Punch July-December 1915: Vol 149

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PUNCH Vol. CXLIX. JULY—DECEMBER, 1915.

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Se LONDON: PUBLISHED AT THE OFFICE, 1o, BOUVERIE STREET, AND SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS, IQI5.

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Puncu, or THE Lonpon CuHarivart, DECEMBER 29, 1915. Bradbury, Agnew & Co., Printers, London and Tonbridge,

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PUNCH, or tHE Lonpon Cuarivari, July 7, i915

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Juty 7, 1915.

PICTURE OFFER To “De Reszke”” Smokers only J. MILLHOFF This “ Rilette” picture, “A Symphony in Smoke,” on art paper 15 ins. by 10 ins,, will pe sent free to any smoker forwarding to MESSRS, ; CO., LTD., (Dept. 7), 86, Piccadilly, London, W., a “ De Reszke” Box lid and 2d. in stamps, mentioning Picture No. 28. Previous pictures on same terms, viz. : a box lid and 2d, for each picture required. are sold by all Tobacconists and Stores, or may be obtained from the above address, Please mention picture number when sending. “De Reszke” Cigarettes

A pretty, piquante, pouting pet Who likes to muse and take her ease ; She loves to smoke a cigarette, To idly dream in hammockette, And sing and swing beneath the trees— A lazy, laughing, lissom pet ! Her charm one never can forget, Her eyes are blue as summer seas, Or azure rings of cigarette : As calm as babe in bassinette, She basks there in the balmy breeze, A dainty, dimpled, darling pet ! at Symphon Y 772 Smoke :

She tries to read a novelette, Her parasol is Japanese, ‘De Reszke’ is her cigarette : She likes a fume without a fret, Her blouse is white, her frock cerise— A saucy, sunny, smiling pet ! She almost goes to sleep, and yet, Though lulled by booming honey-bees, She keeps alight her cigarette. A winsome, clever, cool coquette, Who flouts all Grundian decrees— A graceful, girlish, gleeful pet ! J. AsHpy-STerRy. Ste hes a fume without afret ‘a Pa an ae oe 7a a Se = PYLE LT LLL

Bry baying t= i<)\5 ¢ b} 5 f) 4 ji :) =p b=p bap bp b=p i=

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rettes ay bay b=y t= i=} (8 i=ya- La totst =p b=pa=pinpic

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CHARIVARI.—Juty 7, (1915.

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BY oe Ea *OINT E. NT

mero ance, Ltd (A B Savory & Sons)” Established 1751 | nelle: & Sth ersimith 5 CoM Che King: vee Srsisi- VSTSISTSTe rs rSrererersre PSISIsSIsSTSsrsrsrsrsisisi /-FoR MEN. HESE gifts for men are practical and serviceable indesign, and are especially suitable for service conditions. A large stock of other useful things for men affords full opportunity for choice. A Catalogue will be sent post free on request. Active Service Flasks in Regent Plate, gilt lined, Bayonet Cap. Very serviceab! tle and strictly hygienic Various Sizes... 10/- 11/- 12/- Solid Silver Flasks stocked from 18/6 eager 2 ae screen FO Box Holder, Solid ilver, takes ordinary size Matc Box a ~ 0 Solid Siver Friction Tader Lighter, with two reserve Flints and a supply of tinder .. 7/. Solid Silver Combination Match Box and Motor Map Measurer, Recording nautical ani statute miles, kilometres and versss £2 5 O Solid Silver Cigarette Case. Engine turned. Holds 18 cigarettes, one row. Length 53ins £3 O O Other Silver Cigarette Cases fram 17/6 **The Milita Luminous Watch, {illustrated half size) An ie service wa 30 fully visible at night Others fn ‘£2. 2 0 HE name of the Goldsmiths and Silver- smiths Company on any article is a guarantee that it is the best obtainable, and the price charged the lowest consisterit with the high quality given. - 112, Regent Street, London, W. So cs

rn

PLAYER'S Navy Cut CIGARETTES HAVE A WORLD-WIDE REPUTATION. They are made from fine quality Virginia Tobacco and are sold in two strengths—GOLD LEAF and MEDIUM. GOLD _ LEAF. MEDIUM. 50 for 1/6 50 for 1/14 100 for 3/- 100 for 2/3 In Packets and Tins from all Tobacconists and Stores

Smaller sizes of packing at proportionate prices,

THE BOREL HYDROPLANE One of tho first Hydro-monoplanes adopted by the Government. Driven by an 80 h.p. Gnome engine mounted in front of tho fusilag2 on double bear- ings. Floats sprung at the rear on rubber shock absorbers. Chassis buil: of streamlined steel tubes. Pilot anl passenger in separate cockpits arranged tandem fashion. A small float under the tail which turns with the rudder enables the machine to be steered on the water at low speeds, Ps26 and 4-oz.

Packed only in 2-0z. AIRTIGHT TINS at 1/2 AIRTIGHT TINS at PLAYER'S NAvy CUT DE LUXE Is a DEVELOPMENT of the ORIGINAL PLAYER'S NAVY CUT. Player's Navy Cut De Luxe is the outcome of many years’ experience and is probably the best Pipe Tobacco yet offered to the Public. It is perfectly accurate to describe it as being manufactured from not only the best growths of Virginia, but from the selected leaves of those best growths. FOR THE FRONT AT DUTY FREE PRICES. 2/4. Terms on application to JOHN PLAYER & SONS, Nottingham. Issued by the Impcrial Tobacco Co. (of Great Britain and Ircland), Ltd,

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| iv PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Juty 7, 1915. organs, ensuring functional effici-| In many issues of Punch we have ‘ency. Asa result the acids which! published the testimony of eminent ‘cause gout, rheumatism and simi-| men and leading journals to the lar ailments are removed from the efficacy of the Muller System of Lyra he A line dvawing of a photograph of Boegebjerg's life-size statue of Lieut. Muller. - HEALTH A System of Exercise for Everyone — from Infancy to Old Age. ATIONAL exercise is the first | step towards better health. It is what Nature prescribes to keep the body fit. Lieut. J. P. Muller | (Royal Danish Engineers) has re- | duced exercise to so fine a point of simplicity as almost to give a new meaning to the word. His “System” is exercise without drudgery. It is scientific, easy, delightful and suited to old .and middle-aged persons of either sex, as well as to the young. No appliances of any kind are required. The whole series of ‘movements occupies only a few| | ‘minutes daily, and there is no risk | |of strain. | | The responsiveness of the body to | system. Stoutness is overcome by the | Muller System, because the exer- cises restore the entire physical condition of health. reasons the System corrects ex- cessive thinness. ‘exercise for everyone. Lieut. Muller has in his posses. discipline of the body under the sion letters from people in all parts of the world reporting beneficial results from the practice of his organism to its normal or natural| System. The following list of sub- | A special descriptive brochure, | entitled “ A Statement to Medical Men,” will be sent free to any doc- tor at his request, or the request of any of his patients desiring his ad- vice beforetaking the MullerSystem for curative purposes. The Muller System is advocated and used by Lord Alverstone, Lord Nunburnholme, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Sir R. S. Baden-Powell, Ex-President Roosevelt, Sir Mal- colm Fox, Sir William Crawford, J.P., Viscount Hill, Mr. C. Arthur Pearson, Mrs. Alfred Illingworth, Alderman Broadbent, J.P., Rev. F. B. Meyer, and has also received Medical endorsement so weighty and complete as to leave no loop- hole for doubt as to its soundness. Personal Instruction. Tuition is given personally and privately at the Institute in bright, airy rooms. Separate instruction rooms are set apart for Ladies and Children. For those who are unable personally to visit the Institute arrangements can be made to send Instructors (lady or gentleman) to explain and teach the System in their own homes. Free Consultation. Readers are invited to call at the | For the same jects reported upon is but partially representative of upwards of 20,000 cases communicated to him which have been successfully treated by his methods mostly on the instruc- tion and under the supervision of medical men. Subjects dealt with in Reports. Appetite. Arterio-Sclerosis. Asthma. Biliousness. Bronchitis. Catarrh (Bronchial) Catarrh (Pulmonary) Chest (Narrow). Colds. Constipation. Consumption. Curvature of Spine. Debility. Dyspepsia. Fatigue. Feet (Cold). Figure Improved. Flatulence. Giddiness. Gout. Headache. Health (General). Heart (Weak). Heart (Disease). Heart (Strain). Height Increased. Hyperzemia. Indigestion. Influenza. Insomnia. Lumbago. Lungs (Weak). Melancholia. Middle. Age. Nerves. Neurasthenia. Neuritis. Obesity. Old Age. Palpitation. Rheumatism. Rupture. Skin. Sciatica. Stammering. Suppleness. Throat (Sore). Weakness. Weight Increased. Weight Reduced. It is evident that the Muller Sys- tem is a remedy which does not merely cure here and there just be- cause the conditions happen to be favourable to its operation. The great number and variety of subjects quite preclude that idea. Itis a fun damental natural method which de- velops the inner vitality and builds up the genuine, permanent strength of real abounding health, ejecting the process many specific ailments Muller Institute, 45 Dover Street | which are but the prensa and (opposite Tube Station), Piccadilly, | effects of general ill-health or of 4 |W. (Telephone 416 Regent), for a! .akened organism. free consultation with Lieut. Muller.| “Phe Muller System accords with produces a delightful, exhilarating Postal Instruction. the inevitable law of life which pre: glow; removes and prevents indi-| Special courses by post are con-| scribes activity for every organ and _gestion and constipation; promotes | ducted by Lieut. Muller to enable! muscle if the health of the whole circulation ; tones the nerves and persons in the country and abroad body is to be preserved. That ‘makes the skin clear and healthy. | to learn the exercises thoroughly, essential activity is secured by the The Body-bending and twisting | easily and quickly. Full particulars practice of the Muller System, which free on request. Please mention is capable therefore of exercising Exercises—performed without diffi- culty even by people unused to ex- | Punch, July 7. 'a decisive and beneficial influence | ercise—strengthen the muscles of The instruction of every pupil, whether at on the physical well-being and of " the Institute or by post, is personally super- 3 tigger | the trunk and massage the inner‘ vised by Lieut. Muller himself. prolonging life itself. the exercises is immediate, because | they exercise all the vital organs _and every muscle of the body. The | Series includes self- massage with ‘the hands—a novel feature which

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1inent -o the >m_ of Osses- parts eficial f his f sub- rtially 20,000 which ed by struc- ion of ports, sased. e). eased. uced. r Sys- es not ist be- to be The ibjects a fun- ich de- builds rength ting in Iments 1s and yr of a ls with sh pre- an and whole That by the ywhich EE a MEN OF POWERFUL PERSONALITY RECOGNISE THE VALUE OF HEALTH It is not from what a man swallows, but from what he digests, that blood is made. Pure blood means perfect health. Imperfect digestion and assimilation causes impure blood, bodily weakness and mental apathy. Unsuitable food is a frequent contributory cause of indigestion and consequent stomach and intestinal disorders. Errors of diet can be quickly and safely corrected by the prompt use of ENOS ‘FRUIT SALT’ the natural remedy for preventing and relieving all functional disorders of the body’s filter— the liver—enabling it to separate from the blood those carbonaceous matters which are dangerous to health. Eno’s ‘ Fruit Salt’ contains valuable constituents of ripe fruit in a portable, agreeable, and simple form, and is in every respect as harmless as the juices of the fruits from which it is obtained. Order a bottle TO-DAY from your chemist or stores. SOLD THROUGHOUT THE WORLD. Prepared only by J. C. ENO, Ltd., ‘Fruit Salt’ Works, LONDON, S.E. | For Men in khaki; For Men in blue; | For Men in mufti ; For women too! F PoUNTPENS the pens that are sold under a guarantee of complete satisfaction. They are distinguished for simplicity, strength and entire freedom from com- plicated or wearing parts. The pens are accurately made, and the parts fit to a nicety. Balance and form have been studied to give comfort in writing with large ink capacity. é“c SWAN ” Pens *¢ .made match any _ steel FOx’s F.I. P. PUTTEES pen, in several thicknesses of holders, at prices from 10/6 to New Non Fray Spiral (patentea 1 £20 according to size and decora- } ion—th lity is all th , | AT THE F RON T ~aeane pe pene seiie and to rcising Aluence and of sold by Stationers and Jewellers. Patentees and Sole Manufacturers: | Catalogue free on request— Fox Bros & Co., Ltd. (Dept. L.) Wellington, Somerset, ) 19 & 80, High Holborn, ‘London, w.c. Reduced Agee Sar Dalal Baten Povcoa'? iS wechangs “Sircet “Mismchcsree® ‘vi, Sandard "Suan" Manley & Johnson, 266. West Broadway, New York. U.S.A. Rue Neuve, Brussels; 37, Ave. de l’Opera, Paris. with bands 21/-. . - - Associated House, Mabie, Todd & Co., Inc., New York and Chicago. _ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL—Jury 7,191. Sse *

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vi PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Juty 7, 1915. ma Eo CLEFT SACOITESICAITESH OPE Ee =i a For Active} | a) <S Service |} | | — | {Z ; Vickery’s Fa. ot yy, = } 4 mous Dustproof } | Was a.cure for Hay Fever. BRoNcHITis By Service Weis Wt | INFLUENZA NASALCATARRH@k 18 aN Lemisesdll| estabhished fact, as you may discover 5 : Hands & figures.) ||| 0 send for free Samples of Perfect Timekeeper, Screw-] }} |] | By DUSTPROOF case back and front. BS Silver . . /6 and 726, 2 Dr:J-GPTURRAY:S oo Sul Gold 868s 60 OZONIZED SNUFF w% Another make Ster. iH a4 whch e a 5 (J: C a 1 posteard to ~ae TELF 8 SONS. Iv. = REGENT St Send ss ena of QY7ITP CLAYTON St NEGWCASTLE on TYNE KA —— Active Service Comforts, | reer me | | ; ie Summer & Shooting Season. | | The Healthiest Spot in Scotland, |

| Pianos in Scotland. | In Kh aki | COLLARD, CHALLEN. SQUIRE. H.M.V. GRAMOPHONES, ‘| Paterson Sons & Co. PANMURE HOTEL | EDEL | or mufti— it matters little which—when your garb is

' u umerous branches distributed all ov | bd ° + ees peat eninge a er tt nade to accidentally stained or marked, At the foot of the Grampians. class of work with minimum delay and cost. ’ e 2 Pullars Dry Cleaning process Grand Scenery. Bracing Air. 152, Buchanan St., GLASGOW. Ee : A Delightful Rest and Change. = 27, George St., EDINBURGH. can make it spick and span again. The Hotel is fitted with every Bl| ca 26, George St., PERTH. ¢ Mo: ig 5 a: See nha h 7 . Modern Comfort. High Class neh, See, * Many uniforms, suits, over- Cuisine. Electric Light and |} \ 8 " 4 mae =a : a. } Dunollie Villa, Victoria Rd., OBAN. coats, etc., reach Pullars visibly wey Spe Leena ie

An Ideal Resort for GOLF 18-Hole Course within five minutes’ walk of Hotel. MOTORING; Garage & Pit |

the worse for wear, and go out beautifully renovated and ready M A N U E L for further service. Your Clothes may benefit WEBSTER to the same extent! The cost is small when the splendid Sole Prop ietors _ Listed Hotel R.A.A. & all principal clubs

|| Tennis and Bowling Greens near | Send for Tariff to the MANAGER.

103 West efficacy of Pullars’ treatment | ti a George St., is considered. | | HE STANDARD OF EXCEL ‘ swap eee | 61 ASEOW. rail | | Hf) UNIQUE Pullars’ booklet gives full particulars, A health-giving and delicious driek Hil — | lOicest $enych whisla] (Wholesale & Retait) Write for copy to Dept. K. r | Aoole ceneatned Kom Ge — | ( } 4/3 per An Interesting ti Orchards. sna og | ae | | Ra eda 10. {| = D om. U AR Sidelight || ‘ai — o. a Wine Merchants ca ye ; tores at hom: | eae 5A /- ee LI 4 jg Pullars’ Roll of | ‘ and abroad. Send: | F } te a =—— onour presently sample case and state | Ww yiresteee weree CARRIAGE PAID CLEANERS A DYERS. enntains Gs Gomes i if “Dry” or “Sweet” | || ye NUEL& Wess “COW SS ERTH of one Director i is preferred, or our | | po } sac George Street US? Cash with and no fewer than Hil — i of a ae a or About 4,000 Agents in the United Kingdom. 230 employees. | wae HI an ome actory - ||| JNO. SYMONS & CO. LT. references. | Mi Totnes, DEVON or Ratcliff, LONDON iM Gc Established rearly a ;

Century.

Behind the Firing Line «is. The value of the DUL CITONE for ‘Tommy on the land and Jack upon the sea” has been specially demon- | strated to us in the past few months by the number | which we have despatched to the Continent cnd also to the ships of war. One of the chief reasons for the popularity of the Dulci- tone is its portability—it can be so easily carried about and when folded up stows away in such a small space. THE DULCITONE has keys and touch like an ordinary Piano, but NEVER gets out of tune as its sound producers are tuning-forks instead of strings. Compass 34, 4 and 5 Octaves. Prices - - - from £12 net.

Write for free illustrated catalogue to the sole makers and patentecs : GOLD Boies DIPLOMAS OF HONOUR &c. THOMAS ‘MACHELL & SONS *° Great Western Road. | aig ANDERSON & SHAW LT? | *** GLASGOW °°:

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a —_—__ Se oe ctive ice y's Fa. stproof Wrist with nous figures, Screw- ont. id 726. 8s. 6d. e Ster. so very . 50): ozue of vomforts.

ians. Air. inge. very ~lass and nge. five al. Pit clubs near

Se

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Juty 7, 1915.

visit ST. ANDREWS the Picturesque Old City and Famous Golfing Resort. FOUR GOLF COURSES, PUT- TING GREENS. — Exceptional opportunity for a delightful golfing holiday. Unequalled bathing facil- ities. Charming walks and drives. Excellent accommodation. Everything quite normal. WRITE TO TOWN CLERK FOR FREE ILLUSTRATED GUIDE. } | | | | | | |

BROUGHTY FERRY THE BRIGHTON OF THE NORTH is an Ideal Sec:i le Holiday Resort. Safe Sea Bathing on fine sands; Boating ; High Class Pierrot Entertainments daily ; Public Bowling Greens and Tennis Courts ; Good Motoring centre and within easy reach of many first-class Golf Courses. Guide Book Free. Apply to Town Clerk (Dept. A), DUNDEE.

British Owned and Managed. ST. ANDREWS. Grand Hotel Finest Situation—F rontages Sea and Links. Excellent Cuisine. Wines a special feature. Electric Light and Lift. Garage. Tel. 176. Apply Manageress. ELIE, FIFE. Marine Hotel Patronised by Royalty. “tare 29

Immediately the Links. Open Sea View. Tel. 19. Apply Manageress.

GOLF CLUBS

When buying ask for FORGAN'S CLUBS which have been on the market for 60 years; given every satisfaction and accepted throughout the golfing world as the standard of excellence by reason of their superior finish, perfect spring and balance. Stocked by all High-Class Sporting Goods Dealers throughout the world. If unable to ob- : A tain same write for By Special Appoint- Illustrated Booklet R. Forgan & Son wen! Coif Cin» to the Sole Makers: Makers to the late St. Andrews, SCOTLAND. King Edward VII.

fend for a supply of REAL SCOTCH, and you will be delighted. GRANT'S Scotch Oatmeal, 7lb. tin 2/6. GRANT'S “Old John’’ Oats, 2lb. packet 1/-. | GRANT'S Scotch Oatflour, 1lb. tin 1/-. All Postage paid. Cash with Order. Messrs. Grant have been selling their famous Oat Products since 1813, which for perfect purity an r They have exceptional digestive and nourishing qualities. Grant's Oat- flour is a splendid food for children and invalids. | John Grant & Sons, Ltd., Craig Mills, Dundee, Scotland. flavour are unsurpassed.

AVON ——_— | Write for Catalogue to | 228 & 229 Piccadilly,

| The Leading Authority | in all that pertains to a boot, it’s : modelling, making, and fitting to the wearer's foot, is in- disputably the firm of Manfield & Sons, The name commands universal respect as regards the essentials of fitand wear, ft carries confidence too into the more delicate points of taste and style. A discriminating public has been taught to expect the best that the bootmaker's craft is capable of — at Manfield’s,

M775—25/- MAnFIELD & Sons London, W. Branches in all large towns,

ORIGINALITY

The originality of the CLINCHER TYRE, combined with its excellent quality is the reason of its success. It was the First Detachable Pneu-

matic Tyre invented and every

Beaded Edge Pneumatic Tyre of to-day is constructed to this design. It is made in the largest Rubber Factory in the British Empire where science and skill combine to produce the finest of Tyres.

Cc FIT Motor Tyres.

THE NORTH BRITISH RUBBER CO., LTD., 169, Great Portland Street, LONDON, W. Factories: Castle Mills, EDINBURGH.

DEAFNESS IS A TRIAL THAT CANNOT BE BORNE PATIENTLY. There are many men home from the Front suffering keenly from this affliction, which is easily prevented by the use of HARBUTTS PATENT be - FIBROUS PLASTICINE A small piece made into a plug and placed in each ear effectually cuts up the nerve-shattering concussions while interfering but little with ordinary conversation, the word of command, or the bugle call ; and the price is only 7d.. in a strong tin . » box, post paid ; larger boxes 1/2, post paid. :. have a box. Send one to your friend there. . . small box and 9d. extra on the large.

Every man at the Front ought to Postage abroad 3d. exira for the

| |} body and fastens at right vii

‘* Made like a Soldier’s Kilt.” Jay J ain BE

The Kilt. | || Plaited and stitched ex- | |] actly like a soldier's kilt. The skirt folds round the side. Made to order ‘ in about 200 clan and family tartans, in all wool nd-woven Saxony. Patterns free on application JOHN WIGHT & Co. The Home of Scottish Industries 104-105 PRINCES ST. EDINBURGH.

> THE Cockburn Hotel (First-class Temperance.) Adjoining Waverley Station Full particulars on application.

The Pipe Superexcellent < Vf» iy S35 ~ 3.9 = “4 7? Ay ar MEDIUM I - EX-LARGE y LARGE F6 GIANT 60% AS SMOKED BY THE OFFICERS OF H.M. NAVY ‘ PETER MITCHELL 181 Union Street & 3 Market Street ABERDEEN . Remittance must accompany Order.

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——H| |

Purchases safely packed and sent to any part of the world. We pay carriage within the United Kingdom.

COW’S LOCH RANNOCH HOTEL The Largest and Most Modern First-Class Hotel in the District. Is Beautifully Situated on the Northern Shore of Loch Rannoch, facing South and sheltered from the East and North winds. It commands the Best View of the Loch, Schiehallion, and surrounding district, and is situated within its Own Grounds. Garage. Pit. Petrol. Motor Cars and Suevness on Hire at the Hotel. Boats and Fishing Fre

FRUIT & VEGETABLES FINEST QUALITY supplied at moderate prices ||) to shooting lodges, etc. .. W h e n F r i e n d § 1 Prices on application to

DRAFFEN & JARVIE, LTD, DUNDEE. Se STAG LISHED IN THE YEAR (558) ee | Zs | viii PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Juty 7, 1915. sj = \TREST and RECUPERATE at || | a] UHURERGRERGEEGGGER000000000000000000R000 000 0REREEEES | FoR RENEWED HEALTH & VICOUR | = = Y A HOLIDAY IN | MONTROSE||2 STRATHPEFFER SPA & INVERNESS (Forfarshire) = Read The CAPITAL of the HIGHLANDS, “A QUEEN OF SUMMERTIME” ||| IN THE hl PR ee ee ed UT racing climate. “A QUEEN OF SUMMERTIME” ||| 3 HE HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND 33]| prcitlinate:istncint rossouctene L ; A a Su uperior accommodation. Literature, in. = wned an anage y e ighland Railway Company 3 DALWHINNIE, INVERNESSHIRE. , } . ry. EEE on = Beside the Baths, the Wells and the Gardens. mms | | 1,200 fe. Alt. Bracing Air. Fine Scenery. c a i is Special terms till 14th July: 10/- per da te | | Fishing in Loch Eriche. “Idea! for reeu . Apply: Town Chamberlain. J pe y: P y- = perating. Write for Booklet. ; 4 po Messrs. = pee Rees, Ltd., 95 emer Fan, London, or 65 i ’ pa : 1 C RNOUSTIE = asgow, or the Traffic Manager, Highland Railway, Inverness or Illus- ae A @m trated Guide to Strathpeffer Spa, and other holiday literature—post free. oe x Th Stash ter hostant teens, Sey = P Pa, y = gag dl GARAGE t e and bracing. Perfect sanitation. verything tor Motors. Golfing Sale Bathing. First-class Golf! SONDRA RR RGRERRRRRRRGRRERERERERRRRRRRRERRERRRORRRGREERS || Repairs — Accessories — Hiring t es, Tennis, 2 Riviera Bowling, Be ine fn DAVID MILLAR & SONS : hed b: of the a ng mae gn Pe ag we Po INVERNESS Carriage Builders and Motor Engineers North. & post free from, Town Clerk. A. W. CHAPMAN a co, - 6 Commissioner St., CRIEFF,N.B. | | |= W. CHAPMA astgate Garage | R. S. F. MOTOR GARAGE. A eo appe g & anne MIUTENSIVE, NEW GARAGE WITH Hi TI EXTED z INSPECTION PITS. Repairs, Tyres, Hiring Pitlochry Hydro Hotel, The Latest and most Accurate Machinery. ; Specially Competent and Selected Staff of Petrol, eto. Open and PITLOCHRY, PERTHSHIRE. TH Trained Engineers and Motor Experts. Every cl d P peed for ye meager | U Th ° : P Also at Craigmhor Hotel, Newtonmore “i here scat a or rail. pF mc 4 z e Hotel is comfortable and convenient; S U IT CA S E and Cairngorm Hotel, Aviemore the charge moderate. Accommodation for With 8 Solid Leather Corners London Address: PUTNEY BRIDGE STATION GARAGE, HURLINGHAM,S.W. ome dag RC and RAC. appoint Bo 20inch. .. . 21/6 ments in first class. — 24inch. . « . 25/6 arr eer er re ag, I 28inch. . . . 30/0 : STRATHPEFFER i CARRIAGE PAID. we | , 1B EV s2 Patronised | | wvitvititiam || Be linen-wise Buy Scotch Linens || Spa Hotel 8 Renfield St., 212 Sauchiehall St., = ja oe —’ qventeting , the — L = almon an rou shing. Golf. RE I D & TODD = OR 75 years this house has been selling QUALITY Tennis. Recreation and Ball Rooms. = ‘ Linens, direct from the foremost Scotch Factories IRCLUMYE TERMS trop 20> pe oe Ma GLASGOW. = at first =. These ——_ - vey the test of pe during the War. a L™. — time. any a grandmother of to-da oints with . j = pride eintecdtiean ponent: sea Mention & space her an ceetinse, Dries j = te prin.e. She was “‘linen-wise.” Write for our catalogue illus- [ C LYD ESDALE H OTEL = ‘ trating and describing Household Linens. .Specimen Wedding PITLOCHRY. Leading Hotel in the beautiful = SB Outfits are detailed. Every Bride-elect should have a copy. : T ss as = - ml d. All flax Huckaback Fine Value. All flax Huckaback FIS H ER ~ HOTEL by leading county families. = ry Reis, Henetttbed. Pecans Lnels. oake "Genodiedines pec nay na LANARK, SCOTLAND. = cenedll aonb Flan’ ayicl® having a beautifully soft finish. GOOD MOTOR CENTRE Telephone: 31 Lanark. = AMM ANS bud. Size 22 by 40 inches. 1/11 Life-long wear. Size 24 by 40 on the direct route to the North of Scotland. Telegrams: “Nicoll, Clydesdale, Lanark.” | | © iii «each. 6 for 11/3. inches. 1/7 each. 6 for 8/11. ae See Se ee : s:

Headquarters Automobile Club. Golf bourse. MALCOLM CAMPBELL, Lt d. ‘ NE kg Big + Drop in 18, Gordon Street, GLASGOW. , . nh you will find it ma ey to have a case f of mellow LISONEL Créme de Luxe (VANISHING CREAM) and Crémede Beauté (MASSAGE CREAM) o aan (post free) 1/9 and 2/9. . GREGSON. Ltd., Massage Specialists, Jae Sanchiohall St: GLASGOW. Wate for Booklet. FOOT JOY Tuomrson’s FOOT JOY Corn Plaster Old Saint Mungo Scotch Whisky in your cellar. Simply send cheque or m.o. for 50/- to-night; plain case containing 1 doz, bottles will come carr. paid by return. .

Radio-Active Waters. The TON for GOUT, RHEUMATISM, SCIATICA, etc. All Continental treatments av ailable. Superb Scenery. Motoring, Golf, Theatres, Gardens, Children’s Gymnasia, Guide Free. Secty., Information Dept. D, Buxton, Exterminated by ‘LIVERPOOL!’ VIRUS without danger to other animals oad without smell from — bodies. In tins ready ae with the bait. Virus! for Rats, 26 & 6/-; ‘for Mice, 1/6, OF ALL CHEMISTS. Write for particulars to—

oe

quickly cures CORNS, Bunions and F T Swollen Joints. No pain. ‘‘ Walkiag h ROBER BROWN & co pleasure:” Large sheet 1s. 24., post |) |] E Scotch Whisky Merchants only from E S SONS, LESCHER & WEBB, Ltd., ‘ \& thic Chemish . oan Hanover Street, LIVERPOOL. « 39 Washington Street, GLASGOW sali eee rect, anaes —

Page 13

ae PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Jvutry 7, 1915. ix

EEE Ee soeeeeement iGOUR | AMBLESIDE a S S The principal Centre of att > . — Situate ANDS. the English Lake District, high up 01 ee the Yorkshire Moors, in > associa. SE the heart of one of the bowling. most romantic parts of England, ature, in. E SALUTATION HOTEL Harrogate offers an ideal health re to-day, ond holiday-spot for all who wish to _ nverness recoup from the stress and nerve strain — brought on by War-time anxiety and over- work. Beautiful pleasure gardens. Mag- nificent Kursaal with first-class Music Three fine Golf Links, Excellent motoring gn acaeotinang Write for Hlustrated ; i‘ Official andbook gratis an 1 post ~ e from Broome, “pe pt. be Harrogate. THE QUEEN'S HOTEL rE rey For —_ COUNTRY ! THE WATERHEAD HOTEL (Standing on the margin of Windermere Lake) ; SECRETA RY, are replete with every comfort and

Write for our Booklet to tho dation, recre-

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scenery. convenience, and offer first-class ac- The NORTHERN AIRCRAFT Co Ld or recu- commodation to Families & Tourists. ad ” et. 1 HEADOUARTE 5S OF — TAYLOR’S Four-in-Hand Stage Coaches leaving the Hotels daily for KESWICK, .GE CONISTON, ULLSWATER, ant the | LANGDALES, returning io time tor Se Table d’héte

liring. GOOD GARAGE ACCOMMODATION. For Tariff and Information apply to SONS | THOMAS TAYLOR, Proprietor. THE = 3 a FURNESS | cyeuish tane-tano |! = ae srasmere nglis akes). A : . . ote, THE RED LION HOTEL Rz LIL ; : AY sunlight or Moonlight. F ARR AH’ S . oe RAIL, COACH, AND STEAM YACHT me A Storer “Wh 2D TOURS THROUGH LAKE-LAND HARROGATE Electric light throughout. of A ‘ 2 x : “2 1g, etc. (With certain exceptions, for particulars of which see Tours Programme.) n. Pf 74. 50 Grasmere. agg alii IN orn ATION EVI ay WEEK DAY FROM a ——I |) JULY, AUGUST, SEPTEMBER TOFFEE RTH. |! {| KESWICK-on-Derwentwater, EMBRACING , | | }

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ish and saht’, 5 cndlie Kaien WINDERMERE, CONISTON, GRASMERE, THIRLMERE emma DERWENTWATER, ULLSWATER, WASTWATER, | bs Fait 11 W most up-to-date Hotel in the'Lake {||| ENNERDALE. ete., LAKES, GEORGE ROMNEY'S HOME Made by the House enient P District. (1742-1755), AND FURNESS ABBEY. fF hf tion for of th — Oo arra or ore IPH] footer nt tart JB. WIVELL —_ 75 years R |||] For RESTFUL HOLIDAYS <e | Lovely Scenery and Delightful Steamer Trips, —— } Come to Th t d li i | Royalty ~~ e mos eiicious sa | JULLSWATER .. “ The English Lucerne.” Toffee in the World er day. Hotel List and Guide, Postz age lid. Guide and é ee ae | Nayy I Maps, (cloth) 1s. dd. Time Tables, &c., apply | ain W. Scott, No. 1 Town Hall, PENRITH. eget ae —— j CONISTON FROM BEACON CRAGS. ; HARROGATE ENGLISH LAKES. ba ys, « sae dhe LAKE.—The Furness Railway Company's beauti- In Ideal Situation, overlooking Valley gage ul Steam Yacht ‘' Britannia ”’ (licensed to carry 122 passengers) can Gardens, three minutes from Pump Room. ‘EL TRUBSHAW & CIBSON, be chartered for Parties during the Season, per day or half- ie at rm. rior Private oa acne or Board- | : Estate Agents & Surveyors. papier changes. Quiet. Very Comfortable. Select. Highly | ss canned ap cicenticnd a FURNESS ABBEY HOTEL is the centre for Lake-land.—Beauti- ||| povitncnaca a Select: High i WITH MAP OF DISTRICT FREE. fully situated within the grounds of Furness Abbey. Under the MRS. E. M. HARTLEY. shted Bowness Rd., WINDERMERE. management of Mr. H. I. Stephenson. Telegrams, ‘‘ Hotel,” ““RYECROFT,” 69 VALLEY DRIVE. | icity. Telephone 127. lurness Abbey. Telephone, 59, Barrow-in-Furness. — | TD Apply for Furness Railway Guides, Tours Programmes, etc., to Mr. A. A. Haynes, HARROCATE HOUSE ACENT

Superintendent of the Line, Barrow-in-Furne SS. LES ALFRED ASLETT. July, 1975. Secretary and General Manager. A Ni. THOM PSON, . ‘i ) - — SO ‘ BEST BROWN BREAD 11 Albert St., HARROGATE. Ltd. a nourishin g and Frunished Houses, Rooms, etc. _Lists Gratis. ow. wholesome BREAD [|| TERRY’ S Restaurant, Café, — —

— for family use, de- | ee ees Codeine Establishment licious to eat and || . ’ GARDE N S | + RR lh ST. HELEN’S SQUARE, YORK. (Within 100 yards of the Cathedral, St. Mary’s Abbey, Guildhall, etc.) Lake District do not miss the opportunity of seeing our Nurseries and selecting trees or plants for autumn delivery.

When visting the famous | Luncheons, Dinners, Afternoon Teas, etc.

CHOCOLATES, CAKES & CONFECTIONERY. Our speciality is designing, MAKERS OF THE CELEBRATED *' THISTLE” BRAND remodelling and furnishing CHOCOLATE MIXTURE. TOGO BULLETS AND gardens. TANGERINE ORANGE DROPS, Distance no object.

FR P made in . Ri $, Model Bakery) and ame of nearest JOSEPH TERRY & SONS, LIMITED, YORK. ee Se . er from MontGcomeriz, Lrp. ; Ibrox, Glasgow. : Established in 1767—W hen George the Third was King. LONDON ADDRESS: 72 Victoria St., S.W.

a

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x py PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Juty 7, 1915.

1916 The Most Sensational Motor Car Value ever offered to the British Public N: other car in the world possesses all the features

armed

1916 ‘Overland’ Features ELECTRIC ENGINE STARTER No more laborious cranking. ELECTRIC LIGHTING No bother with gas or oil. MAGNETO IGNITION Full power developed—always, AUTOMATIC OILING Never too much ; never too little. NICKEL AND ALUMINIUM PARTS The least trouble to clean. UNDERSLUNG REAR SPRINGS 2 Elliptic, Easy riding—always. THERMO SYPHON COOLING No trouble—it is automatic, ONE-MAN HOOD No extra help needed SPEEDOMETER ELECTRIC HORN DETACHABLE RIMS AND SPARE All included in the price £198

of the new ‘Overland.’ A bold statement, but true to the letter. It is a car of supreme comfort and absolute efficiency. It has a low streamline body to seat five in comfort. It is made to run silently; the chassis and body areas one; there is no rattling. Every ‘Overland’ goes through rigid inspection and very severe road tests; nothing is left undone to make it absolutely efficient. Yet the price is but £198 complete, ready for the road.

ORDER YOUR ‘OVERLAND’ FROM OUR AGENT IN YOUR TOWN, __ Send for “Illustrated Catalogue.”

We will post it free.

WILLYS-OVERLAND, Ltd. ‘OVERLAND HOUSE’ 151 Great Portland Street LONDON, W.

He TT TTT TTT LALLA LALLA LALLA LLL LL LLL LLL LLP LULL LLLP Come! Polish up! Ars if they’re brown boots polish with Lutetian Cream.

SLU UAHNLLUUNUNOOOUNUOOUNOLOUUEROAUOESOOUASUUSEUAUU ATALANTA

“ Lutetian” does the leather good to start with—feeds it, softens it, prevents splitting — adds vastly to foot comfort. What excuse can a man give nowdays for appear- ing with an unshaved face? Everywhere he goes, he sees other men keeping clean shaven and present- able by three minutes’ use of the Gillette Safety Razor and the Gillette blades. British made. Gillette Standard Sets. One Guinea. ——————Sold_ Everywhere. Write for illustrated and descriptive booklet. Mention this paper. Gillette Safety Razor, Ltd., 40-44 Holborn Viaduct, London, E.C. General Offices and Works: Leicester, England. iGillette sxe NO STROPPING WO HONING “ Lutetian” brings that rich colour and varnish-like gloss that look right! Shave Yourself l= | ” ‘‘ Lutetian” gives a quicker <hine— a longer lasting shine and a cheaper shine than any other polish you can buy. “ Lutetian”’ pays for itself in im- proving your appearance, in saving your time, in lessening ill. 4 your time, in lessening your boot bill Fox *‘ Lutetian” has been ‘out’ for 40 years and is more popular to-day than ever. LUTETIAN CREAM In Light, Dark & Extra Dark—for all Browa Leathers For Black Glace or Patent Boots there is nothing to equal MELTONIAN CREAM.

ee on ito — Meltonian Cream keeps leather soft, preserves and improves it, gives a marvellous lasting lustre. If you have any difficulty in obtaining these prepara- tions send us a card for name of nearest dealer. E. BROWN & SON. Ltd.. 7, Garrick St., London, WC, ieaaemaaaasamaaiaeiamemamamas mamma NN

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| Juny 7, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 1 | | 3 1 s © : ra) | | { | | ) ’ — a | | | | | i ; | DEVON MEN. Ve From Bideford to Appledore the meadows lie aglow | For fearless were the gallant hands that pulled the sweeping With kingecup and buttercup that flout the summer snow ; oar, And crooked-back and silver-head shall mow the grass The strong men, the free men, to-day, The bold men, the seamen, And lasses turn and toss it till it ripen into hay ; The men that sailed from Bideford and ruddy Appledore. For gone are all the careless y id reap the land of ; . aie, Ee Se Cite youn Se vay he tne From Bideford and Appledore in craft of subtle grey The lithe men and long men Are strong hearts and steady hearts to keep the sea The brown men and strong men, « —— , a a a a a. a VT The men that hie from Bideford and ruddy Appledore. CO WES AG Te ee ee ee eee And Summer weaves her colour-threads upon a eed ers From Bideford and Appledore they swept the sea of old loom ; With cross-bow and falconet to tap the Spaniard’s gold ; For ready are the tawny hands that guard the Devon shore, | They sped away with dauntless Draxe to traffic on the The cool men, the bluff men, Main, The keen men, the tough men, To trick the drowsy galleon and loot the treasure train ; The men that hie from Bideford and ruddy Appledore ! VOL. CXLIx, - Es

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2 TRAINED VOLUNTEERS AND THE REGISTER. (To certain responsible people.) Waren from a ten months’ sleep you wake Yo find that we’ve a war on hand, And feel the time has come to take A Register of al] the land; To ask about our names an: ages And who the persons are who pay our Wages; Whether in single bliss we live Or bear the weight of wedlock’s chains ; What leisure hours we have to give, What skill of eye or brawn or brains To put at England’s service, please, If she should ask us on her bended knees ; You ll hear with nicely feigned surprise That you have had, this six months long, Unnoticed by official eyes, An army half-a-million strong Begging for leave to do its bit And getting for its pains the frozen mit. Spurning delights of ease and sport They plead to serve some humble use, To guard a line, to man a fort, Letting our younger warriors loose, And earr the right to have a pitch Allotted to them in the final ditch. And when at last you come and say: “What can you do? We ask for light On any service you can pay,” The answer is: “ You know all right, And all this weary while you knew it ; The trouble was you wouldn’t let us do it.” O. SQUAD DRILL WITH RESPIRATORS. We have much pleasure in favouring our readers with the new instructions, which are shortly to be embodied in the Manual of Anti-Zepptic Training. For drill purposes the important word will be shortened to “ Prators.” GENERAL RULEs. 1. Recruits, before they commence the respirator ex- PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVART, — [Juty 7, 1915. and the little finger at an angle of forty-five degrees from the rest, the back of the hand being upwards and the arm slightly bent, with the elbow against the side. The left hand will hang perpendicularly, thumb against the thigh, fingers together and slanting towards the ground. When each man (woman or child) has got his dressing he will stand at ease. THE Store FROM THE ORDER. Slope Prators—One. Give the respirator a cant upwards with the right hand, catching the muzzle with the left hand, back of the hand to the left, elbow to the rear. Two. Cut away the right hand to the side. To Fix Resprrarors FROM THE SLOPE, Fix Prators— One. Seize the right-hand string of the respirator with the right hand, knuckles to the front; at the same time push the muzzle of the respirator sharply forward and turn the head and eyes to the right, the right-hand man looking to the left. Two. Taking the time from the right-hand man, raise the | muzzle of the respirator to the level of the face, pressing it home on the nose, open the mouth five-eighths of an inch, lips pointing outwards, and take a deep breath. Body and head to be erect. Three. Tie the strings behind the back of the head on a level with the eyes, turning the head and eyes to the front. Four. Cut away both hands to the sides. Note.—On the word Fix, the right-hand man of the unit will take three paces forward, resuming his place in line when the fourth motion is completed. To Unrix Respirators. Unfix Prators—One. Keeping the heels closed, place the head between the knees, muzzle downwards, and grasp the strings of the respirator with the thumb and fore-finger of each hand, keeping the little finger erect. Two. Taking the time from the left-hand man, untie the ercises, are to be taught’ the names of the different parts | strings of the respirator, and with the right hand disengage of the appliance and the care of pads and sponge-bags. the muzzle from the nose. 2. Drill with respirators should be practised occasionally | ppree. in extended order, t.e., up and down stairs and round unlikely corners, to accustom recruits to hold their noses steadily and breathe correctly when separated from their comrades, ; 3. The reeruit, having been thoroughly instructed in the respirator exercises by numbers, as shown in the following sections, will be taught to perform them in quick time, with a pause of one beat between each motion. Fauna my with RESPIRATORS AT THE ORDER. The recruits will fall in in the front hall, should there be one in the house, dressing by and numbering from the right, the mistress or governess (if any) being right marker, and the butler or cook (also if any) marking on the left. Nurses with babies in arms will act as supernumeraries in the rear and will not form fours or carry their infants at | Lord Mayor, who shook him warmly by the hand, and in a few words the trail. Extricate the head from between the knees, cut away the left hand to the side, and return to the order. ZIGZAG. Impending Apologies. I. To Sir Edward Grey. ‘* Published in Lausanne by Payot and Company, the book . . . has | already appeared in French. An English translation has, we under- stand, been prepared for the use of our Foreign Office.” Daily Chronicle. II. To the Cape Mounted Police. ‘* As one observer put it, it was generally a case of ‘ one fool follow- ing another.’ Whenever a body of mounted police was seen marching along a crowd of nondescripts immediately pursued.’’—Cape Times. ‘‘When O'Leary stepped from the train he was received by the cordially welcomed his back to Cork.’’—Glasgow News. Each recruit will hold his respirator between the right | Cork might well be proud of seeing something that Sergeant first finger and thumb, with the two middle. fingers extended | O'Leary V.C. had never shown to the Germans.

Page 17

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Jcty 7, 1915.

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Leoventrn G. (to President of Local Government Board). “ WHAT CAN I DO? READY AND WAITIN Corrs ASKED ME VOLUNTEER SIX MONTHS.” MeMBER OF VOLUNTEER TRAINING A JOB FOR ¥ * 4 LL THEM I'M ONE Al 4 TE I SHALL THAT AT LAST. SOLDIERS WHO’VE 7 4 I’M GLAD THEY’VE All! WAITING FOR BEEN OF HALF-A-MILLION THE LAST

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Page 18

Page 19

Juty 7, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 5 | . oe a ee a 6 ee Tommy. ‘‘ WHY, IN MY BIT TURNS AT THE LOOPHOLES !”’ OF THE i NEED 0 vou | t j { ENLIST Wow ! di ——e Se RRA LINE THE TRENCHES WAS SO NEAR THAT BOTH SIDES USED THE SAME AND TOOK PARAPET CHARIVARIA. War that it is good to know that, as regards their own country, they will not have fought in vain. It is the Tégliche Rundschaw which sends the glad tidings. ‘“ Canadians a3 a whole,” says this paper, “have given such proof of bitter animosity to Germany that they must not be surprised if henceforth every effort is made to prevent the further influx into their land of the virile stream of German manhood.” se x “ENEMY FLUNG BACK IN GALICIA,” announced a newspaper the other day. We trust that no unnecessary violence was used, The Queen of SWEDEN, who was in Karlsruhe at the time of its bombing is said to be returning to Stockholm. There’s really no place like home— for neutrals. “ Shell-making at t School ” has been newspapers. As a matter of fact many public schools have had a Shell class for years and years. Reeser: | | “The feeling against Germany and | everything German is much stronger Tue Canadian troops have fought | here than most English people imagine,” with such magnificent gallantry in the | | writes a Paris correspondent in The “No shopkeeper dares now ‘Mann spricht deutsche’ on must have been a Observer. inscribe his window.” It ‘very bold shopkeeper Who dared do it even before the War. “BIG FALLS IN LEADING COPPERS.” Daily Chronicle. We are relieved to hear that Sir Epwarp HrEnry was not involved. The Daily Mail “saliliiies a photo- graph, taken in a Lancashire town, of| five clergymen making munitions. It hailed as an innovation by several ‘ ' should now be possible to solve the! interesting and much debated question | as to what a clergyman says when he) hits his thumb with a hammer. A Daily Express correspondent who | has been paying a secret visit to Con- | stantinople reports that the German | officers there, in order to be understood | by the Turks, have to speak French. | The dignified inhabitants, unlike their; masters, refuse to talk Bosch. * % Bravo, fair sex! We hear that many ladies in order to appear the more fit for active work intend to give their ages in the National Register form as } less than they actually are. German reports from Lembe arg say that the Russian administration of the town was splendid.* The population were treated well, and the public build- ings, museum and galleries were left in perfect order, the Russians paying all official salaries and other expenses. Not so bad for a people who have never | enjoyed the advantages of Kultur! | At the Court of Common Council, last week, the City Remembrancer was asked where persons working in the |City would be registered, and he |answered that those who slept outside the City would be registered in their own districts, and only those who slept within the confines of the City would be registered in the City. The City Remembrancer himself will presumably not be registered anywhere, for we imagine that Remembrancers have to sit up all day and all night, note-book in hand, remembering things. * | ' No, the name “a the person is | Ginnell, not Ginnelheimer. ae en ee ee ee

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVART. [Jury 7, 1915,

AT THE FRONT. WE have come to the conclusion that the people who arrange the battles have decided that their attitude to us is to he one of attempted frightfulness. Whereas other regiments enjoy all the amenities of peaceful trench life, with, | say, a battle on every third Thursday, we are continually threatened with some fresh and frightful prospect which never materialises. In fact, we are constantly disappointed, Sometimes they turn us out at dead of night and ship us to some. forlorn hit of line, pleasant only in the forget- : ting, and assure us that we shall all be dead in two hours, and that the old country is already proud of us. The beginning of the third hour finds the mess president still pillaging Belgium for something to fry eggs in. Th next | evening sees us re-entraining for : France, billets and security, with nothing more glorious to} carry back than a sleepy sur-| inise that the old country must | hhave reconsidered her decision | just in time. Sometimes again they think | out for us a highly unfortified | attack on @ highly fortified, position. Then the General, or | the General’s General, sends for | company commanders—at least | it gets to them eventually, pos- | sibly by indirect fire—and ex- horts them with cheerful words, such as, “On the afternoon of to-morrow, Friday, the 17th inst., you will spring lightly over © your parapet and take the enemy's first line trenches, second: line trenches, third line trenches, fourth line trenches, machine guns, communications, keeps, small arm ammunition, large arm ummunition, guns, transport, strategic railways, and personnel, You will send the Katsrr to Belgian G.H.Q. and hand over Litre Win.ir to your battalion sergeant-major to birch severely.” We spend the night working up a deuce of a hate, and cutting great chunks out of our barbed wire. Some of the officers even have their rifles cleaned, and when dawn arrives the Bosch is frightened out of his life by the strange music of our men grinding their bayonets on their teeth—an old and little known army custom always ob- served on the morning before an attack. Then at last, as we are finishing a frugal ration of lunch tongue and apricots and cream, touching up our wills, and writing home assurances that everything continues very quiet, a foam- | ing signaller dashes up to the mess hut and falls in a dead faint in the act of delivering the message, ‘Submarme

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Parcy T Reyevense “THERE ’S NO DOIN’ NOTHINK WITH ‘IM SINCE 'E'S SHARES IN THAT THERE War Loan!” ‘and it never varies ;—

U296 sunk this morning, A.A.A. Your! Flanders, not a form for claiming a wttack postponed indefinitely. Ends.’’; rebate in respect of unmarried grand- And then everything continues very children. A 8 f vi. is not really oceu- quiet, and we are left wondering pied. When the young batteries have finished we build it up again with one row of sandbags. It is awful to think what would be the effect on our moral if they one day blew in A 8 f vii. by accident. whether there is a strategical connec- tion between U296 and our attack, or whether Mr. Batrour just wired the news out of pure goodness of heart. After they had played the attack game often enough to impel the two; 2—5 p.w.—Teuto-Britannie aviation senior Captains to tell some of cur lead-| sports. (Observe that the Britannic ing Generals not to be silly, they comes after the Teuto, as is always the moyed us off here as a punishment! case, but the Teuto usually gets away.) for not taking our attacks seriously.) 6—10 p.w.—Réchauffé of cdd shells, “Here” is the seat of the original; usually distributed neatly along roads ; Flanders frightfulness. The Bosch has a few get tired on the way and try to done all his best turns; he gassed us| drop in on us. But they can never the second night in, and he shells our! remember the exact way, so we have support line with enormous missiles for|to go out and bring them in, quite one half of every day. But as we got! broken up. warning of the gas half-an-hour before} Some day no doubt we are bound to it arrived, and as the support line he! get involved in this war they talk so. en jmuch about in the illustrated papers. Some day we shall emerge glorious with full packs, mess-tins, blankets, and other appurtenances of famous attacks (v. contemporaries) and with our names once more on the —well, whatever it is one writes one’s name cn in such cireum- stances. But at the moment it’s weeks and weeks since we did as much as a bayonet charge.

Wanted, a Deus ex Machina. ‘¢ Fixisting firms were not delivering gods up to promise because they had machines which they could not man."’ Yorkshire Evening Dost. a Lei Hy 4 . | GOT

shells is, like the equator, imaginary, we are not yet wiped out, though the brigades and divisions and army corps to left and right are worried a little with the splinters of the shells dropped in our sector. We are now quite settled into our new war; the daily round, the common task is like this, ‘According to information received, the Headquarters of the German Army has pub- lished a statement declaring that Russian prisoners found in possession of dum-duim mullets or other projectiles of a like nature will not be considered as prisoners of war, but will be shot on the spot.’’—Hvening News. But the Germans themselyes do not come into court with clean hands in this fishy matter. Witness the follow- ing, from a description of the attack of one of their submarines on a French grain ship under tow :— ‘ The tug was attacked with a hail of mullets, but it and the grain ship both escaped.”’ Manchester Evening News. It does not actually say that they were German heavies (left rear of Hill 2493) dum-dum mullets, but this fish is returned by theatre train from Brussels, notoriously soft-nosed. orders test mobilization of battery. 1 —_ » an on teak Win and 4 are always short, 3, 5 and 6 Pare . ees “ apparently laid, with devilish ingenuity, |" " : ” . “ . . ba Ad ss e aeps q . < . . to ensure enfilade effect on imaginary His sok departure from the Spartan habits 7 , : : 5 ’ | of eating and drinking and sleeping, learnt on support line. Something will have to] pis carliest campaigns, takes the form of an be done about 2; it is nothing short of occasional cigar after lunch or dinner."’ a public danger, and might well be Daily Chronicle. made the ground cf a conference. Most of us acquired at an even earlier 10—11 a.m.—Three young batteries | period the habits of eating aud drink- blow in A 8 f yi.—this is a trench in ing and sleeping. 0.5 am.—bB 18's bomb-blunderbuss frightens German listening post. 0.30 a.m.—Battery of Little Willies sends us four short and two over, under delusion that we are B18. (We are A 8). 3.30 a.m.—Battery Commander of

Page 21

ull th he ao ng cul he |b- vn mn re ub its on an er k- en ——— a oui; | A l PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI i i AR i EE WHEN YOU WANT A _ REALLY HR A PALATABLE NON-ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE, SPECIFY ROSS'S BELFAST Dry Ginger Ale It is interesting to trace the ; history of this Beverage right down through the ages. The basis of its formula is a delectable Oriental joysome consisting of fruits and spices crushed with sugar-cane. q/ This delicacy was a great favourite in far Eastern Royal Courts thousands of years ago, and there is evidence that it was known, at least in a modified form, to the Greeks in those happy days when a goat and a basket of Attic figs was as yet the prize in contests. q It was certainly imported, in the fulness of perfection, into England during the reign of Queen Elizabeth. q Doubtless, Shakespeare, Spenser, Sidney, ll Jonson, and other great luminaries of that age appreciated it — it touched them with poetic power. On festival occasions it was diffused qj through water, and in this form received many fanciful names, all suggestive of Health, and Song, and the Mystic Moon. q Long afterwards the discovery of the effervescing principle of champagne by van Helmont, and the subsequent work of Priestley, Lavoisier, Black and others, turned men’s thoughts to the production of sparkling non-alcoholic beverages, and, appropriately enough, Ireland, with its lovely skies and pure crystal waters, became the centre of a great industry. W. A. ROSS & SONS LTD, SoLtE MANUFACTORY, q Starting with a vision, the Messrs. Ross, ‘| Belfast, built a factory to protect and preserve their own deep underground Springs of peerless water, and very quickly indeed the name of Ross became famous throughout the world in association with the best non- wcoholic beverage ever devised by man. Delicious fruits, fragrant spices, refined cane sugar, pure natural water, and the sparkling spirit of champagne—all brought together by the progressive skill of three generations of one famil y—produce a beverage which must surely suggest a bunch of the choicest of Time's roses. q Ross’s Ginger Ale undoubtedly adds to the agreeableness of life. q Pour it briskly into a pint glass and notice its delicate bouquet — sweeter than the breath of the brier, the beaded bubbles burst- ing with fragrance at the brim, and the aroma of ginger stealing through all like the rich mellow notes of the ’cello in orchestral music. Its purity and wholesomeness commend it as the best beverage for all those who have something to do in the world, and for the Home Circle when the day is done —it quenches thirst, charms away the feeling of fatigue, gives stamina, and convinces you that the end of the British Empire is not yet—not yet. BELFAST.

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xii PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Jcry 7, 1915. — A Sound Guarantee is worth an Infinity of Talk Most makers will readily exchange faulty tyres— but they have their own ideas of ‘ faultiness.” And itis frequently most difficult to tell whether tyre or motorist is to blame. The guarantee given with MOTOR TYRES completely alters this state of affairs. As the makers, we know what our tyres will do, and that with reasonable care they will double or treble the guaranteed mileage. So we can afford to take all risks, despite the careless driver, and the driver who, because his tyres are guaranteed, takes less than the usual care Square- Tread . - 3,000 miles. Non-skid - - - - 3,590 miles. (Steel or All-Rubber). AGAINST ALL RISKS, EXCEPT FIRE, WRITE FOR GUARANTEE FORM. WOOD-MILNE SOLID TYRES for HEAVY COMMERCIAL VEHICLES. WOOD-MILNE, LTD., PRESTON Wire: “Comfort, Preston.” "Phone: Preston 413. LONDON: Manchester Avenue, E.C. Wire: ‘* Byturning, London." ’Phone: City 4797. BRISTOL, BIRMINGHAM, BELFAST, DUBLIN, GLASGOwW, etc.

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ee ] | | murmured; “but don’t bother about 'and tea, too, if you like. | fish.” | about the New Angling, which enables one to land 24-pounders and ‘come | the Strathrowan Angling Club was to | suburban residence next morning, was | casting on his lawn with one of those | supersensitive, five-guinea rods, which | can be tied in.a true-lover’s knot with- ; out damage to material or moral. | nounced at the end of five | weighing machine, registering decimals | of an | interest in the Club. juny 7, 1915] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 7 ASSISTING NATURE. | * ComE by the 9.30 to-morrow morn- " : . ing,” said the voice of Macvicar, at the \' country end of fifteen miles of tele- phone. “ Small Lochleven flies will do.” “Delighted,” Ianswered. ‘I'll bring plenty of sandwiches and a flask.” “The flask by all means,’”- Macvicar We'll stroll home to lunch, I had a @ grand food. 2}-pounder this morning, Over an aged fly-book I speculated home to lunch.’ The private loch of show me many surprising waysin which Science can assist Nature to maintain a steady supply of 24-pounders, and deliver the goods. Maevicar, when I reached his semi- he an- minutes’ walk. ‘ Strictly limited to twenty-five. We are allowed three guests each per annum, and we put in four thousand | yearling trout every spring.” The Club- house looked big enough for a couple of hundred golfers. There was room in it to handle a fourteen-foot | rod freely. No coaxing of fractious | gossamer casts with chill fingers ever tried the temper of the Strathrowan Angling Clubmen. On a Chippendale sideboard in a bow-window stood a “That’s our Club-house,” ounce. The scale-pan was of oxidised silver. Two books, both bound in morocco, with tooled edges, flanked this apparatus, to record the baskets of Members and Visitors. “Somewhat de lure,” miringly. “ Not bad,” Macvicar agreed. ‘The gift of the President. He takes a great I said ad- “What’s this?” Iasked, pointing to a mahogany cupboard in one corner. “ Afternoon tea,” said Macvicar, doing the honours of the cupboard. “Crown Derby and Georgian silver,” I whispered, awe-stricken. “I say, you know ¥ “The gift of the President’s wife,” | said Maevicar lightly. “She takes a great interest in the Club. Let’s start | now. Augustus is waiting with the | boat.” I had never met a boatman called Augustus, and I never dreamt that there | could be a boatman on a Scotch loch | | with leather leggings to match. | silver buttons bore the Club motto. It | was over the doorway, on the weighing | 'machine, on the covers of the records|in an elegant and lofty cane-chair, ioe ee Py Cee ote =‘) Feit ema ee * — ata : > had SSaES VITPMAD 7 dE me ELLA S07: o Tee T a Se ow ae SS a Sft. MIM A => — — FORCE OF HABIT. Passenger. “THIRD RETURN TO BILLINGSHURST, PLEASE.” War Booking-Clerk (late of Snagg and Stelgrove). “I SUPPOSE YOU WOULDN'T CARE FOR A FIRST RETURN TO BRIGHTON? WE'RE SELLING QUITE A LOT OF THESE JUST NOW. THEY RE CONSIDERED VERY SMART.” wearing not only the name Augustus, ‘asked, getting in with due respect for but also a neat uniform of dark green, | the polished satin-wood thwarts. His! “No, Sir. It was selected by the President, 1 believe.”’ Macvicar seated himself in the bows, kept for Members and Visitors, “ Semper | pivoted like a piano-stool for con- Grandiores.” | venience in casting. Augustus fiddled “* Semper Grandiores,’" I muttered | with an electric switch and a little to Augustus as he stowed my mackin-| wheel amidships. We backed out from tosh in the stern of the boat. the pier and turned towards the head “Yes, Sir,’ he answered; adding of the loch, visible six hundred yards helpfully, “ 1 understand it is the Latin | away and marked by a row of poplars. for ‘ Bigger fish yet.’”’ | “Don’t see many poplars about “Did you invent it, Augustus?” I| here,” I remarked. ”

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8 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Juty 7, 1915. “No,” said Maevicar. “The Club | imported these from Bedfordshire. They bring the Mayfly on the water a week or two sooner.” We purred along an ‘islet, about fifteen yards by ten, gay with daffodils. “Charming,” I said. “Very nice indeed.” “That’s Eilean Shona,’ Maevicar explained. ‘The Vice-President put those in. They are his favourite flower. He does a bit of gardening on the island on Sundays. He did think of a little hot-house, too, but people might have rotted us about it.” “Tt would have had to be a very little one,” I said, “or it might have sunk theisland. Everything here is on a smali scale, except tle Club-house-—-” «And the fish,’ Macvicar corrected. “Look out, you’re into something.” Three yards of line ran out with a pleasant whirr. About thirty seconds later a plump Lochleven trout sailed reluctantly into the landing net. Augustus released it tenderly from the Marchbrown-and-Gold. “T'm afraid it’s just under, Sir,” he said, “ Why, it looks a good half-pounder,” I protested. Augustus laid the fish delicately along an ivory foot-rule let into the edge of a thwart. ‘“ Nine inches, Sir,” he said with the solemnity of a judge prescribing penal servitude. “Pity,” said Maevicar, casting greelily towards the islet and speak- ing over his shoulder. ‘Ten inches is the limit. Not hurt, is it, Augustus ? If it had been badly hooked we could have kept it.” Augustus slipped the fish overside and wiped his hands on a towel bearing the Club monogram and motto. * All right,” I said; “I'll strike the next in the angle of the jaw and be rather harsh with it.” On our first drift down-wind, which ended only when I hooked one of the hanging baskets of Darwin tulips on the Club verandah, we had five trout, all“under ten inches. Those of seven or more were immediately released on “Won't they find it rather dull behind that wire netting? It’s not even barbed wire.” “They grow, anyhow,” Macvicar said. ‘“ Minced liver and wheat tailings, boiled soft, make a wonderful difference in three months’ time.” Between lunch and tea we had a dozen fish, and kept three, including one well over two pounds, which Mac- vicar caught, according to his explana- tion, not in any spirit of bombast, but as evidence of good faith. “We'll fish the Narrows,” he said, after our Crown Derby tea, “from the European side. That’s where the rainbows lie.”’ We slid to the top of the loch and looked into a little creek, about eighty yards by twenty across. * Doesn't look promising,” I said; “there’s not a breath of wind in there.” “We'll soon put that right,” said Maevicar confidently. ‘ We'll try the transuff, Augustus.” Augustus sculled the boat to the bank, stepped out, opened a padlocked box above high-water mark and turned | ARMY CONTRACTS. Alfred had a severe attack of Ariny ; Contract fever the moment the War | started. lof his forty-eight years and a good , business as a Surveyor. When he was first attacked the disease took the form | of mittens. - But when the War Office | his samples into the waste-paper basket ,and went all out on khaki cloth. | ‘The reason his malady took this form was that he had what he called “an /enquiry” for it. | He had every known symptom | of the malady and a few over, in spite | people wrote and told him that the kind | | he sent-them would not mit, he swept |, I have since learnt | | What an enquiry means in this connec- | tion, and I think and the place to | what it connotes. | It means apparently the dropping of a hint by A to B that A has seen C who ‘can place so many hundred acres of this is both the time | explain the term and | cloth, so many thousand quarts of brass | buttons, or so many million hands of horse, or whatever the commodity may | | be which is the subject of enquiry. B then sets out to find D, who when a handle. There was a sudden hiss of | discovered is found to be a person having air released under heavy pressure. Little | the acquaintance (business, and slight catspaws of wind appeared at intervals | at that) of E, who knows F (and some- along the creek. By the time Augustus | times wishes he didn’t). F is in close was back in the boat these puffs of | touch (a fine old hallowed expression in air had grown to a light but steady | the City) with G, who lives in Bradford, their own recognisances to come up again when called upon. The others Augustus slipped through a kind of letter-box in the bottom of the boat. ‘What happens to the little fellows?” | [ asked Macvicar. | “They wait in their private tank till lunch-time . . .” “What do they have for lunch ?” “Our lunch-time,” Macviear ex- plained; “and then Augustus interns them behind the wire-netting there, in Tom Thumb Bay. We don’t want to catch them again till they ve grown a| bit mcre.” breeze. “My aunt!” I said in respectful tones. “Service’s Patent Transufflator,” Maevicar explained. ‘Costs a bit of money, of course. That’s why it’s only fitted for this little creek. Next season we mean to put a pipe down, right along one side of the loch.” The Transufflator yielded us three rainbow trout, all over a pound, within twenty minutes. We drifted down to the Club-house, well pleased with our day. “ Delightful place this,” I said grate- fully. the island, poplars, both decorative and useful, grey roofs against a sky of Italian blue. ‘Those fir-trees on the hillside are exquisite in this evening Pers From the fir wood a voice interrupted me. ‘ Cuck-oo, cuck-oo.” “To say nothing of the wandering | voice,” said Maevicar. ‘ There he is.” The bird flapped slowly across the loch. “Bless my soul,” I said, “so it was a real bird after all?” ““Of course,” said Maevicar. not?” “ Everything ’s so well thought out here,” I said admiringly, “that I felt sure you had a Cuckoo Attachment to Service’s Patent. Transufflator.” “Why “Plenty of sport, daffodils on | or the button-growing district, or Mexico, las the case may be; and G says he has | the cloth or buttons or horses. He is | | probably lying, but this is not generally | ‘established till the end of the game. | A, B, C, D, E and F all want com- | missions if the deal comes off, and G, | the alleged seller of the goods, wants a rather like “ Snap.” engaged it for the deal. samples were submitted to the authori- ties it was discovered that the maker had was all loose and wobbling about. Any- how the deal was off. form and boot polish, and came at last to horses. It was at this stage of the game that I first took a forced interest in his doings. His office is not tidy at any time, and when I ealled on him it was difficult to find a seat, every available ‘piece of furniture being filled up wit! jsamples. His desk was littered with | bottles of all sorts, tins of boracic ‘powder, liquid soap, and packages of various shapes, sizes and aromas. profit, so it’s a sort of round game Alfred by superhuman efforts heard of some khaki cloth that had nothing | particular to do at the moment, so he | But when the | bungled over the recipe and had put in } the ki before the. kha, or else the dye | Following the proper rotation of | crops, Alfred tried rations, lint, chloro- }

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wow ea ee Juty 7, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 9 Aunt (to little girl WN SA 4 4 i who has omitted to say ‘‘ ptease’’). Wd Ne ‘ Wy SON ‘*Say ‘PLEASE, AUNTIE DEAR.’ ’’ Little Girl. ‘‘I THINK YOU MIGHT LEAVE THE ‘ DEAR’ TO ME.”’ Three saddles the book-case, and a pile of army blankets on the only chair I could see besides the one Alfred was using. I eame to anchor at last on a packing- case full of boot polish. “ How many hands go to a herse? ” said Alfred. “It depends on the horse,” I said. from fifteen two “« And one for his nob,” said Alfred. “To about seventeen hands,” I said. “The Russian agents,’ said Alfred, “who are after my horses want to know the age, size and colour, and I’ve had to guess them.” “What height did you guess?” I asked. “Well, I thought the average would be somewhere about twenty-three to twenty-five hands.” “Very useful,” I said. ‘ They'd without soldiers on their backs.” “T must alter my let‘e: then,” said Alfred. ‘“ What age shall I put?” “Oh, if you’re guessing, I should say four to eight years.” ** Look “Mere babes,” said Alfred. “Not counting ponies and cobs, say | > frighten the Germans to death, even | were perched on top of | here, old man, you'd better join me in |this game. We'll make pots of money.” of sharing commissions with half the ‘runners’ in London is not alluring. | Besides,” I added, ** I’m busy with War | Office contracts myself.” “Got any through?” asked Alfred eagerly. “ Yes,” I said, ‘“ several contracts I’m interested in were signed last week.”’ ‘Handled any commission yet ?” he said. “No,” I said decidedly.“ But two or three of the people I’ve been dealing with will get commissions shortly, I | expect. The fact is, I’ve gone in for supplying the War Office with better stuff than you have.” “ What stuff?” said Alfred. “ Recruits,” I said. ‘Our guns must have killed and wounded hundreds of the Turks, as the shells were actually dropping in and around the trenches, many of them being blown to pieces.”’ Daily Dispatch. The tendency of these projectiles to suffer from sudden and violent disinte- ‘gration has frequently been observed. “No, thanks,” I said. “ The off-chance | MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS O'REILLY. I HAVE often of late meditated upon ‘a garden and its immoral influence— as to why the growing of tulips should promote intolerance, er what there was in a dahlia (besides carwigs) to cause irritation. Sir Francis Bacon, as I pointed out to Cecilia, fell under the fatal fascina- tion of gardens and very soon had to be removed from the Bench. S#Hak- SPEARE, on the other hand, was no gardener. To him a rose under any other name would have smelled as sweet, nor would he have lost his self- control even if you had called his tea- roses Madame Karl Druschkis. Old hardened gardeners are bad enough, but the youthful convert is a terror to his friends. Cecilia, before she took up gardening, would not have harmed a worm, but you should see her face nowadays set to storm at the sight of the shyest and most retiring of snails. As I told her, it was this , way that Nero began. | She has tried hard to tempt me from the paths of virtue with a heavy | watering-can. Luckily I remembered

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PUNCH], OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. (Juty 7, 1915. henry Bavieh- “THIS IS MY SON. TO JOIN.” > nes tty, EG HE’s JUST LEFT SCHOOL, YOU KNOW, AND WANTS TO GET A COMMISSION; Pa eae. Po ot - - ae 4 aie . BUT HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT “WELL, IF YOU THINK IT WOULD BE ANY HELP, I DARESAY I COULD GET YOU AN INTRODUCTION TO LorD KITCHENER. YOU SEE, A NEPHEW OF MINE HAS JOINED HIS ARMY.” in time that our tried family physician had warned my father once that undue horticultural indulgence might have fatal results in my case. I had been treating -myself, I well remember, for measles with a small green apple. As I told Cecilia, it is ridiculous to slight the advice of a family doctor. Not an ordinary physician, I said, but a family doctor. Perhaps I should have told her less emotionally, as she went and bought me a quilted red double chest-protector. I managed to get it off my chest on to a stall at a bazaar as a Kurdistan native lady’s bridal head-dress. . It was the success of the sale. The fall of Cecilia began with bulbs. She was anxious to out-bulb the Vicar’s wife, an old hand, full of wise saws and other modern implements. She pored over that pedantic brochure, Hints to Amateurs. On Bulbs. By One. The result was the breaking of Fogarty's back. As he said, “The back’s broke on me, planting thim bulbs!” Cecilia did the digging, and, as far as I could see, select my left eye to die in. I have thing else. Fogarty was locum tenens'! known them come miles to do it. for the professional gardener, who had| Cecilia was in the middle of her third gone fishing. He didn’t say so when|cast with the table napkin, and I was he returned. He put his handkerchief | just remarking that I’d rather keep the to his eyes and said, ‘“‘She had been’ eye with the fly, if she didn’t mind, than always very kind to me, and I had to | the fly without the eye, when Bridgeen see the last of her!” ‘tore in and cried, “If you please, The three of them planted bulbs Ma'am, will you come out and look at everywhere. No place was sacred. I) your bulbs? They are all up. And kept indoors, a3 I have a bald spot. _| every blessed one is a Spanish onion ! Bridgeen stood between Cecilia and And wasn’t I saying to meself at the Fogarty, and he broke his back passing time that them bulbs had the smell of the bulbs to Bridgeen, who handed | stew about them?” them to Cecilia, who planted them| When the Vicar’s wife came in solemnly according to the ritual of triumph to lorgnette our poor bulbs, Hints to Amateurs, which lay open I found Cecilia exhibiting them with beside her on the grass. pride. She explained with modest self- Tnis to me now seems years and depreciation that in war-time every years ago, as the bulbs have all come! patriot grows vegetables in place of up since. It was Bridgeen who con- | flowers. veyed the information to Cecilia. We were at breakfast when the blow fell. I remember I was at peace with all mankind, looking meditatively across the beautiful country, when a fly came straight through the window into my | Of its impudence we cannot pretend to left eye. I don’t know why flies always | judge, but it is certainly “ stupefying.” | ‘*Bryan’s second statement, semfwy and amfwy andardlainanana published this morn- ing, is a piece of stupefying impudence.”’ Vancouver Daily Province.

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Juty 7, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL mre eang | es a Wo. eet AM NY | “ A: A -~ Ay) " Gas \ hy l eT, Wirt, THE GOLDSTEINS RENT FOR THE | PROTECTION OF BATHERS AGAINST SUBMARINE ATTACKS. Seeregeeeesieeemeees SUMMER MONTHS A CASTLE ON THE SEA COAST. A BRILLIANT GUEST (DEPICTED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FOREGROUND) SUGGESTS THAT THE ANCESTRAL ARMOUR WHICH GOES WITH THE PLACE MIGHT BE UTILISED FOR THE THE HOUSE-PARTY IS QUICK TO ADOPT THIS HAPPY SUGGESTION.

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, PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL (Jury 7, 1915, Emacs Papen nce x ’ Volunteer Recruit. “I’M FED UP WITH THIS TRENCH, DIGGIN’, SiR. WHEN DOES THE LOOTIN’ BEGIN?” yes wry a - “Hanps up! You’RE MY PRISONER!” “ YouR PRISONER? How caN I BE WHEN I’M STANDIN’ ON YOUR COMMANDANT?” ee ee

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI—Jury 7, 1915. siti Born 1820— Still going strong. | | | | | | , ' | | I | \ | j ‘nh — : C.O.: “That’s ‘Johnnie Walker’ turned to good account, eh?” Jounnie Waker: “ Yes, the lorry reminds them cf Home—and Home is always worth fighting for.” JOHN WALKER & SONS, Lrp., Scotch Wuisky DISTILLERS, KILMARNOCK.

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_xiv PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI—Jory ; 1915, — — Support Your Friends at the Front ‘SUBLIME PORT. > BRAND’S MEAT LOZENGES WORLD RENOWNED FOR THEIR SUSTAINING PROPERTIES. NO MORE ACCEPTABLE GIFT CAN BE MADE TO OFFICERS AND MEN. In Tin Boxes, 1/, 1/6 and 2/9 of Chemists and Stores, or direct from BRAND & Co., Ltd., Mayfair Works, Vauxhall, LONDON, S.W. 296 PER DOZEN NY \s HRWILLIAMS:@ \ 6.UME STREET, IONDONEC, _* li By Special Appointment. HamiltoneInches 88, Princes Street, Edinburgh. Goldsmiths, :: Silversmiths, Watchmakers and Clockmakers. The famous win ‘Queen Mary’ heart pendant. WV EAR « Triple-proofed Dexter to keep out the heaviest downpour and fiercest to . ensure health to satisfy your desire for faultless tailoring. and comfort for texture and : The height of economy, too. it is an especially ¥ In cairngorm / / suitable material for and amethyst. 42/~ to 63/~ the country house With jewelled Supplied by one or more of the and cottage. | best shops every district. Pa —_ Crown Hf Sphinx” Casement Flax, ” in. wide, 1/4 per yard. From 45/- upwards. EXT es ge “* Sphinx” Casement Cotton, 5 WEATHERPROOFS Reproductions of Scottish Jewellery and Ancient Drinking Vessels a_ speciality. Telegrams: ‘Inches, Edinburgh.” Write for Brochure and Patterns to WALLACE, Scorr & Co. Ltd., CATHCART, Glasgow Civil, Military & Naval Failors lil A TT RR LIGHT WEIGHT KIT FOR THE SUMMER CAMPAIGN. FXPRESSLY for the Summer Campaign the House of Pope & Bradley has produced a new khaki material which is porous and of the lightest possible weight and thinnest texture. The great difficulty hitherto has been to produce a very thin cloth which will s'and the excessive strain of wear on Active Service. This problem has been overcome and the new material, which is unobtainable elsewhere, is guaranteed to last equally as long as the heaviest weight whipcord. An outfit of this material will be found invaluable for hot weather wear in Flanders, the Dardanelles, Eastern Medi‘erranean and on Home Service. Service Jackets Saas Raa dea ae 2330 } Cord Breeches (Buckskin Strapped) £212 2 All Accessories in Camp and Service Equipment supplied at Store Prices. Full Kit List on application. TWO ESTABLISHMENTS ONLY 14 OLD BOND STREET, W. @ 11:15 SOUTHAMPTON ROW WC oe On account of its luxurious comfort, remarkable dura- bility and moderate cost, the “ Oxford Varsity” is the ideal Lounge Chair for the home, the club and hospitals. Price according to length of seat. 23” 22/6, 27” 26/6, 39” 29/6, 33” 32/6, 3635/6. Patterns of the coverings post free. Booklovers are invited to write for particulars of the “Oxford "’ Sectional Bookcase (which is obtainable only from William Baker & Co.), and are cautioned not to be misled by imitations which are more expensive. of in- ferior workmanship and quite differently constructed. “SPHINX FABRIC curtains & —holds two secrets, | beauty of colour and nence of colour. It is called ‘‘ Sphinx” Casement Flax, and | Write for * Sphinx” booklet of patterns and suggestions. HEAL'S Tottenham Court Rd., W. 7 os fi perma- | 52in. wide, 1/44 per yard. |

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oer ie —_—~ i teeneaial Ssvo,Y6uUCU™SNS CU pe Jury 7, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL | TERRIBLE THIRST. LEASTWAYS I’VE ’AD ONE EVER SINCE.” Boatman (narrating incident of air-raid on his town). ‘AND THEY SAY AS 'OW THEY PUT SOMETHING IN THE BOMBS TO START A SprcraL CONSTABLES SHOULD CONSIDER THEMSELVES “‘ON DUTY” | THE LAW. IN ALL PLACES WHERE THEY OBSERVE ANY INFRINGEMENT OF

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14 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CIIARIVARL | Nigga (} - 4 a Waar ste 1 tee Win) a Q Seay ~> Sh ~ 2 ‘ “ eS =) Y A ZEPPELIN PICNIC. ‘iy a ons " Uday anit iS in me My ! « y\ Yrs yy \ (CT Ne. ‘. e ov?

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Juty 7, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. val I) rr | my I | H | ne Hf ih { ) aa iy A CHALLENGE. Seniry. ““WHO GOES THERE?” Bashful Maiden (recognising cavalier of a previous evening on the pier). “FR——, I MEAN ACQUAINTANCE.”

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16 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. (Jury 7, 1915, SYA YA PP POCA LA POLE GP CGE pg rte piyspgyy Si eile YA AKIO FOS Golfer (as aircraft drops bomb on links). “THEre, CADDIE, YOU HAVE THE CHARACTER OF THE GERMAN IN A NUTSHELL—PUTS ME CFF MY SHOT, AND ISN’T SPORTSMAN ENOUGH TO REPLACE THE DIVOTS!”

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Juty 7, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 7 17 Mt, Nae JN Na NY if AN m= ACES: BY Yi WY \\ S be iN iy ji // £ / ”\ ae ‘Qa // eqeen ee —— | W SY I // YY) j yy / \s ff Wad ¥, Te ER ia Yh. WE G3 f MY f Y '/4 // Ge f PP Yi / / Energetic Platoon-Commander. “Don’t PANT.” DWN Ws Sergeant (to plutocrat). “Now tHex, NuMBER THREE, LOOK uP! ALL THE CIGAR ENDS AVE BEEN PICKED UP LONG Aco!”

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAR VARI (Juty 7, 1915. A HINT TO THE RAILWAY COMPANIES. LET THEM DECIDE THAT THINGS ARE NOT AS USUAL THIS YEAR AND ADVERTISE THINGS AS THEY ARE. SPEND Your HOLIDAYS on THE’ FAMOUS LEEKTON JINKS * "NEW ‘BUNKERS “NEW HAZARDS is: THE SQUARE ‘YARD "> "PHAN IN-ANY OTHER . SPOT IN ENGLAND.

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[. IVAR AR CH LONDON + 4 4 OR THI UNCH, P Juty 7, 1915.) A HINT TO THE RAILWAY COMPANIES “§ iSPLAYS D Welk ban LINN 4 >», We 4 Sha (Op ORS ry Set S — =, us Sas ite

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Yen] Som or) — re as P| iS ~ = = ar ————_— . . sY pr" y Ya e.S KS Up . a lool & 8 N re 12) 8 z 3 ms a a Loa} BH (=) = me 4 = @ f—. ° 5 = 8 5 <q < a — — w 5 e 5 rs a 5 ‘ = \ H

WHY TRAVEL BY RAIL? WAR-TIME HOLIDAYS.

SIE = ee a ae Bi I & AWAY WITH BONES AND BANJO. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON AND WHY LODGINGS? 24

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Io

7, 1915. PuNcH, oR THE LonDON CHARIVARI, JULY

— f ‘‘I’p NO IDEA IT WAS 8O EASY, MY DEAR. “eee I ONLY HAVE A BOY TO WASH HER DOWN ’ Z\ NOW AND THEN.’

X \ Chika BALA ZA | t f / y pr. tT 4A a4 \ \ - I. f ZY Z ‘- YT ~ y S44 J\ - / 7 ; \ GRANDPA SAYS IT ISN’T EXACTLY THE WA s \, — + . TIME OF HIS LIFE, BUT HE’LL DO HIS retain ZA eS BIT IF THEY ’LL LET HIM SMOKE. ““4e @ Ly WS BEE = 1 SS a ns | Oe —— — 24 ZN . CE Ae. YG) , => —=———

/ ~ N TE | ae | ‘‘No, Master GEORGE, THAT ea COMMUNICATION TRENCH WON'T P J DO NOHOW.”’ LAA 77° (a “ THE FAMILY Z| THE THINGS TE 4 e IYI: Lg All GY MN 2 ; ZB ze , , PYG

™ \

ht yun EZ Woe il > b \ a= . F ine | a i rw %

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Se \SY, MY DEAR. : ia i = H HER DOWN Tuer PROFESSOR IS CERTAIN vas THAT AN ANTI-AIRCRAFT GUN 5) & COULD BE MADE ON THE LINES OF HIS FAVOURITE WEAPON. THE VETERAN SIR POMPEY DOES ENTRENCHING PRACTICE UNDER EXPERT ADVICE, AND IS AS- SURED THAT ‘‘ IT WILL COME IN MAIN o HANDY FOR THE CELERY.”’ at P xy Ke 9 U0) {~~ ie ae ~ — =— —_ My, q Zoo) nl ELE LS aT av Ne THE FAMILY CONSULT THE AUTHORITY ON THE THINGS THAT MATTER. ( , a ©... an /7 ‘4 wv DawBeER, R.A., INVENTS AN Uy EFFECTIVE SHIELD. a E WAR SPIRIT.

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"MM, 4 4 LIFT, o —

Page 42

Page 43

bo or

Jury 7, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

WAR-TIME HOLIDAYS.

— “

a We = Over. &

} iS ws A) BA) —" Lh | A\ \ NY SA \\\y)4// Ke = AN \\ N \ \ ‘ | AN \y KANN ’s ‘ \S

AND WHY NOT RUN A PLEASURE-SUBMARINE ?

vo WER — IM WYN int | eal — on ie Wess \ Wh wor ) / ; Po a \\\ ~ \ \ ish - Vaan : ‘ | 1. Swill we ‘ ee —— ee —< Ad awe = —_

Page 44

PUNCH, OR THE [Juxx 7, LONDON We W i, Wy SS \ ) \ \\\ \ \ My . LX Ss ui A THE ARMOURED DECK-CHAIR (1d. EXTRA), 1915.

Page 45

oe ee ae: © sere ~ - [sens 7, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 27 | WAR-TIME HOLIDAYS. “Had Yt / y -@en Ht | 8 /2'z — >: (gsas ae A HINT TO BEACH PHOTOGRAPHERS. 7 6S gc ~ SX ~ Pinar = —_—- atin. ; 3 _ THE MILITARY TOUCH. BusKERS’ EARLY MORNING PARADE,

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. (Jury 7, 1915. FRIGHTFULNESS. (There is a possibility that a mild form of ‘‘ Frightfulness ’’ may enter into our everyday life as one of the consequences of the War.] } te >. ‘ 4 Pe — t EA : o 4 Zk q , — K ~ 4 4 FS P .*¢ , * SEES IIT | 1 F A ES 404 | > { 7 LEY UY Mi Ys, | BA «- % f, V/, 7 \ a fi G 4 Me 4 . he d ‘ Z Z ° Ww me ti %, ’ “a. * y . iy, - és YW Z Y j BL Z iz ; } . J a ( \ 1h ae oo ee eae . 1. , Fy ae >» A 22 | Ye \Ag mY ell uc @ iJ 7,4. =| if y ==} at ( fs A CUSTOMER OBJECTS TO A FEW EXCESSIVE CHARGES IN HER GROCER’S BILL.

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et PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Juty 7, 1915. XV Z \\ \ \\ \\ \\\ \\\\ LAM... —"—“ © ES > : ae | en Ae} x4 % ee ; : aon { i @ (aa. SS Hfrosuci sy)" - jp AS Our Country needs us ~~ and these are what we need. - HORLICK > MALTED MILK TABLETS It is our privilege and duty to see that our fighting men are provided with all they ask for and need, and letters home frequently tell how grateful officers and men are for having received a supply of these delicious Food Tablets, and they eagerly ask for more. A few dissolved in the mouth give and maintain strength and vigour, prevent fatigue and relieve thirst, and thus enable the soldier or sailor to be at his best when his best is called for. We will send post free to ANY address a flask of these delicious and sustaining food tablets and a neat vest pocket case on receipt of 1/6. If on active service be particular to give regimental number, rank, name, squadron or company, battalion, battery, regiment (or other unit), staff appoint- ment or department. State whether serving with British Expeditionary Force or Mediterranean Expeditionary Force; or, if not with either, give name of place at which unit is stationed. In the case of a sailor give the name of his ship. Of all Chemists and Stores, in convenient pocket flasks, 1/= each. Larger bottles, 1/6, 2/6 and 1 1/- —_— ‘Za Trial size sent post free for 3d. in stamps. HORLICK’S MALTED MILK CO., SLOUGH, BUCKS.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Juty 7, 1915. DEAL MILK ’ Gresh / is the purest and best milk that it is possible to get. Town Milk is never really fresh, because it takes so long to reach you, and all the time germs are multi- plying in it. If you want the best and purest milk, buy “ Ideal ’—quite free from germs. Try “Ideal”’—just as it is, fresh from the can — with your stewed fruits, tarts and puddings. Diluted with water, it is better and more reliable than dairy milk both for table use and-for baking purposes. Large tins 6d. of all Grocers. Write for a copy of the interesting booklet “ Two Milkmaids and an Ideal *? —sent post free on application to— ANGLO-SWISS CONDENSED MILK CO., €-8 Eastcheap, LONDON. Contractors to the British Army and Navy. il) i il uh "l ei Mabel :—* Whatever are you doing, Gerald?” Gerald :—“ Well, we’re going down to the seaside, and I’m doing up my old boat with CHERRY BLOSSOM BOOT POLISH ‘cos it’s durable and waterproof !” lliams geen, Holder Top A pee ) ShavingStick When your shaving stick is nearly gone is the time when you will most appreciate the holder device in which the stick is fastened—but it is a great convenience at all times. And more than this, you have CS the wonderful creamy, abun- 4 dant lather that has made Williams’ Shaving Soap so famous for three-quarters of a century—that thick, soothing lather which does not smart or dry on the face. FOR THE FRONT. Williams’ Holder.Top Shaving Stick is most conveni- ent for the man on service. Neat, compact, in nickel case which won’t rust. Holder Top stands up any- where and enables the last available fraction of soap to be used. FIVE FORMS OF THE SAME GOOD QUALITY. Williams’ Shaving Stick, hinged cover, nickelled box. Williams’ Holder-top Shaving Stick. Williams’ Shaving Powder, hinged cover, nickelled box. Williams’ Shaving Cream (in tubes). Williams’ Shaving Stick, leatherette box. A single sample of either of the above articles (with the exception of the last-mentioned) sent for 2d. in stamps. Address: THE J. B. WILLIAMS COMPANY, 71, Southampton Row, London, W.C. Main Office and Factories: Glastonbury, Conn., U.S.A. Williams’ Shaving Preparations can be obtained from Chemists and Hairdressers in all parts of the world. WILLIAMS’ SHAVING “FOIL STICK 2 AT? Pa in the nickelled hinged-cover box. PERFORATION The same soap but without the is holder-top device; the Shaving WILLIAM Stick that you have always known and that you can find everywhere. SHAVING Put up in the convenient nickelled fi A hinged-cover box.

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LONDON CHARIVARI, 4 4 PUNCH, OR THE Juty 7, 1915.] FRIGHTFULNESS. > a —- ‘\ (ea ore 25) a iS \ ¢ \ \ \N \ t ANN « Cane es SSSI a \. N NOT ALTOGETHER TO HIS TASTE. A BOARDER POINTS OUT TO HIS LANDLADY THAT HIS BREAKFAST EGG IS Ul SSS / De | Ss « i A Wak A VISITOR SIGNIFIES HIS DISAPPROVAL OF AN ITEM IN THE PIERROTS’ PROGRAMME. | | “em Ox ck is when > the the

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30 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Juty 7, 1915. NATIONAL SERVICE yy at yt LY” le Ze XK Lz, a: 2G “ZF WE ASKED A NICE-LOOKING SENTRY IF HE HAD ANY SHELLS WE COULD FILL FOR HIM. BUT A HORRID SERGEANT RUSHED UP AND TOLD US WE MUSTN’T SPEAK TO A SENTRY. THE CREATURE! WE ONLY WANTED TO BE USEFUL. ON OUR WAY BACK WE DISTINCTLY SAW SIGNALLING GCING ON BEHIND A COTTAGE. en WE HAD ALMOST DESPAIRED OF BEING REALLY USEFUL, WHEN WE HEARD SUSPICIOUS TINKLINGS, OBVIOUSLY A MESSAGE LY MORSE CODE, IN THE HOLIDAYS. WE SAW A WHOLE LOT OF CARRIER PIGEONS FLYING ABOUT. So WE TOOK ALL THE TROUBLE TO CLIMB UP AND WARN THE COASTGUARD. HE SAID THEY WERE SEAGULLS, AND WASN'T AT ALL NICE ABOUT IT. A Ai tp x ~ | Va Ziff y Z i Yh) AN EF Wy SS Wy 047 ARO THERE COULD BE NO MISTAKE THIS TIME, SO WE CALLED A CONSTABLE AND WENT TO INVESTIGATE——! * * - * WE ARE GOING PADDLING TO-MORROW. ee

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' y / / == — —=e If ae PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Juty 7, 1915. yy} | | ! LA FRANCE A zallant French Allies. Contributions made in honour of “France’s Day” 4 and should be HOMMAGE (July 7th is to be dedicated by Great Britain to her will be devoted to the E.C., » Mansion House, addressed to the Ri French Red Cross, ght Hon. the Lorp Mayor It is hoped that a very large sum may be raised as an expression 3.] and marked “London Committee of the French Red Cross.” of our profound admiration and affection for our brave comrade

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—— | scorched by it. | constitutionally placid Jury 7, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 33 ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. (EXTRACTED FROM THE Drary oF Toby, M.P.) House of Commons, Monday, June now kindling the country and swelling MARKHAM More than manner and speech sharply ruffled. At Question time had tussle with Prime MInIsTrer on subject of famous statement at Neweastle that neither our Allies nor ourselves have been hampered by in- sufiicient supply of munitions. Marx- HAM wanted to know who told him so. Even ARTHUR Premier declined to be drawn. MarkHAm again insistent on question | of equipment of recruits. “Is it nota fact,’ he asked UNDER SECRETARY For War, “that recruits have been kept waiting for eight months for their equipment ?” “It altogether depends upon what the hon. Member means by equip- ment,” TENNANT deftly answered. Up a third time, now on behalf of the Government threatened with dis- location of business arrangements. Second Reading of Munitions Bill under debate for six hours. At eleven o'clock debate would automatically close and Bill urgently needed must stand over. PERTINACIOUS PRINGLE, joining hands with ImpLaAcABLE SNOWDEN, attacked compulsory clauses which serve as basis of Bill. Rising just after ten o'clock, Prinaie prattled on amid growing im- patience on part of scanty audience till hand of clock pointed to five minutes to eleven. At best, did PrineLe straightway sit down, this would leave tive minutes for Minister in charge of Bill to wind up debate. If he occupied remaining five min- utes the day would be lost. It was here MaARKIIAM came to front again. Amid murmur of angry interruption his voice was heard with sharp command, “Give GEORGE a chance.” PRINGLE showed disposition to argue the matter. House filling up again would have no more of it; so he sat down. MunistTeEr 7 oF Munitions had __ his minutes, and, SPEAKER promptly putting the Question on stroke of hour, Bill passed the stage. ArntHuur LyNncn, sometime G Colonel of Irish Brigade during Boer War, not the man to be left out when things like this going on. Had placed on Paper three questions addressed to freee er an ate _ ‘production of aeroplanes. 98th.—Glow of warlike feeling, just, the ranks of fresh armies, shone in| House to-night with scathing heat. | slightly | once his| Minister OF Munitions dealing with On UNDER SECRETARY FoR War rising to make reply Lyncn leaped to his feet. “No,” he shouted, ‘I wish to have a live man to put live questions to.” TENNANT not only live, but in his Studies in the manner of IvAN MESTROVIC, the Croatian sculptor. I.—Lorp Rosert CecIn, who opened the exhibition cf MrstRovic’s work at the Victoria and Albert Museum. replies often lively. Lyncu, thirsting in Fe-Fo-Fum manner for the blood of a Welshman—Ltoyp GEorGE to wit—declined to put the question, and TENNANT perforce resumed his seat. A few minutes later ex-Colonel Lyncu complained that every time he rose to ask a question he was interrupted by 1I.—A typical British Army Champion. Mr. H. J. TENNANT. unmannerly remarks from seated near him. “If I cannot get protection I shall deal with the hon. Member myself. I ain quite capable of doing it,” he added, nodding confidentially to the culprit. Thereafter silence reigned in that quarter of the House. | | | | ! Business done.—Munitions of War Bill read a second time. Tuesday.—As Wautrer Lona@ said when moving vote for the Department, twenty-nine years have elapsed since his first connection with Local Government Board. That was in 1886, when he was appointed Parliamentary Secretary. After serving a term of five years as President of the Board of Agriculture he went back to the Local Government | Board, this time as President. His pericd of oflice at the former Board made memorable by reason of .his stout, prolonged, finally successful fight with rabies. Dog-owners of all degrees were up in arms against his strict regulations. He with appropriate | doggedness held on, and delivered, per- manently as it happily appears, the nation from this plague. When at opening of Session of 1905 GEORGE WynpduAM was offered up by his old friend and chief as the sacrificial lamb in the matter of Ministerial dally- ing with Home Rule hotly denounced by Ulster, Wattrer Lone, the handy man of the Party, the Ministerial Marine ready to go anywhere and do anything, was appointed to fill the vacancy created in the office of Irish Secretary. By odd chance he came up against Sir Anrony MAcDONNELL, now Lord M. His attempts to employ Board of Agriculture tactics for purpose of muzzling the stubborn Under- Secretary were noted at the time in this faithful record. Coming back to his old post and to a seat on the Treasury Bench he finds that quaintly renewed prosperity makes him acquainted with strange bed- fellows. Faithful to his creed and his colours, he has not been what is known as a strong Party man. Differing from political opponents, he has never de- scended to personalities, a habit that appreciably strengthened his position in debate. Still, when he swore he would hold no truck with Luoyp GrorGE and his political heresies, henever thought he would live to sit in Cabinet Youncil with him, and from Treasury Bench generously cheer remarks offered by former foe in his new administrative office. However, there he is, and there Member

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[Juny 7, 1915,

34 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. —" Sy =e (ain ee 2 . Tae ~ oS

Officer. BLY & acti 2 7, <al 4 ~ rw + pes Ye ? /

“You root! ComE BACK AT ONCE!” Tommy. ‘Nort ME, Str! THERE'S A WASP IN THE TRENCH.”

they are. Being gentlemen all, they get along very well together working for the security of the nation in time of peril. The loud and general cheer welcoming the Presipent oF Loca GOVERNMENT Boarp when he made his first appearance testified to his genuine merit. As Sark says, there is | no shrewder, more infallible judge of a | good fellow—or, for the matter of that, a bad ‘un—than the House of Commons. This afternoon, in speech limited to ten minutes, new PRESIDENT oF LocaL GOVERNMENT Boarp brought in Bill providing for compilation of a National Register. Difficult task to expound in scanty time particulars of important measure. Not new to WALTER Lona. Prince ARTHUR, sitting lower down on Treasury Bench, loyal colleague of a Liberal Premier with whom in other days he had many a scrap across the Table, remembers how, sixteen years ago, WALTER Lona brought in a Tithes Bill under Ten-minutes’ Rule, and how AsquitH and his friends denounced what they described as the unprincipled straining of a provision expressly de- vised for sole purpose of hastening on their course measures absolutely non-controversial. Business done.—National Register Bill passed First Reading, opposed only by Herr GinnE 1, still at large. Wednesday. — Ronatp M‘NEILu’s

catholicity of view and chivalry of| temperament illustrated afresh in ques- tion put just now to Home Secretary. Appears there is a group of persons, calling themselves a Peace Committee, engaged in distributing pamphlets of a character harmful to national interests in relation to the War. What the Member for St. Augustine’s wanted to know was “ Whether the Home SEcre- | TARY proposes to take any measures to | provide against the danger of their| being lynched?” Never since the utterance of famous | entreaty, “Don’t nail his ears to the pump,” was the fine feeling of philan- thropy more pointedly expressed. Home Secretary gravely comforted Hon. Member with assurance that “such violence would call for severest repression, whilst a great responsi- bility would attach to anyone who might be supposed to suggest that it| was excusable.” Business done.—CHANCELLOR OF Ex- | CHEQUER introduced Bill enabling! trustees to become subscribers to War | Loan. Other Bills advanced.

‘‘The Germans last night delivered an| attack to the northward of Ypres and succeeded | in gaining a football in the French trenches.” | East London Daily Despatch (S. Africa). Yet they have not noticeably improved in playing the game. - AS ADVISED. WHEN Zeppelins are in the air Above my humble dwelling, For what they threat I shall not care, For I have means of quelling, Or at the least of dodging, what- Soever comes of shell or shot. ’Tis but a little exercise Pleasantly acrobatic ; For safety in the cellar lies, And also in the attic ; And what should danger-dodgers do But circulate between the two ? With water I shall let my bath At least half full be standing ; And gravel from the garden path Will decorate the landing ; For he at burning bombs may laugh

Who treats them well with half and half. | I'll stay indoors—rush wildly out ; Admit the air—exclude it ; Keep silent— like a Stentor shout ; Pick up the bomb—elude it ; Do nothing—act—show fear and pluck ; | Be quite prepared—and trust to luck.

‘*COLONIAL AND CONTINENTAL CHURCH Socrety.—Its Brave Chaplains are still in Brussels, Lille, Croix, and Dunkirk. Its Chaplains in Boulogne, Rouen, Paris, Xc., devote themselves unremittingly to the British soldiers, sick and wounded.” Advt. in ‘* Church of Ireland Gazette.” Why this invidious distinction ?

’ S fi il ( p

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0 ih \4 half. | 1ck ; ck. | RCH 1 in Its itish Dear Mr. Paisterel Frade lop Should smokers find any difficulty in obtaining |) Carolina CHERUTOS, please write to: MY Poy Dashwood House, London, E.C, Selling Ageat for Henry Clay & Bock Co., Ltd. La Corona. J. S. Murias. Cabanas-y-Carvajal. Villar-y-Villar. Henry Clay. La Carolina. Pedro Murias. Flor de Cuba. Manuel Garcia. La Cubanola. Bock-y-Ca. HAVANA in the year 1915. Cigar Smoker, 5 for 1/6 per'tt. May I introduce myself. . Sold by all Tobacconists. Carolina CHERUTOS My name is Carolina Cheruto. I am an Havana Cigar and was first found by Columbus over 400 years ago when he discovered Cuba. They have been making cigars in Havana ever since. They have improved the quality of the leaf, and they have altered their shapes and sizes as fancy took then. But they have never improved upon the original shape, and the consequence is I am re-discovered. Frankly I am a by-product. The great Carolina Factory has enough tobacco left over from the Manufacture of its Bouquets Finos, its Perfectos, its Celestiales and its Coronas, to make me in millions. So I am just as good a smoke, just the sane tobacco, as my more expensive brothers. But 5 like me only cost 1/6 which is the price of one of my bigger brothers, so I save you money. Your Tobacconist will tell you all about me, but not half as much as you will learn for yourself when you smoke me. I am, yours to enjoy, CAROLINA CHERUTO 5 for 1/6 P.S. I am as big as this

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XViii PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Juty 7, 1915. YOU CAN’T GET WET IN The Guinea alamo |) A Feather Weight Waterproof d tae - ; Civilian or Military Service Pattern. t “You can put it in your s |! The Perfect Food 3 pocket when the sun shines.” _/ CS >» Weighs only 21 ozs. | The Guinea ‘‘ Mattamac’’ is made froma specially woven feather- weight matta fabric of intense strength, and is guaranteed ab- solutely waterproof. In appearance it is in- distinguishable from the ordinary weather- proof, but it is carried as easily as a news. paper, or will go into an ordinary pocket, | ( ' L ‘

Go CCCCCCCCCCC CCU

ea eS a ng

LLINSON BREAD is waique as the health maintaining diet for it retains those essentials of the wheat expressly designed by Nature as a natural and all-sufficient corrective, and provides the maximum of nutriment at a minimum cost. Its flavour is the flavour of fresh gleaned wheat stone ground and cleaned by a patented process that renders it perfectly digestible under all conditions. ae Practically Untearable. Not Transparent. E In a “‘ Mattamac” you can't get wet. Thoroughly well cut and made. Storm collar and adjustable wind cuffs. Smart, roomy, free—for every outdoor | purpose. Lasts years, any climate. In fawn, olive, § khaki, grey or tan. Also for Ladies, Military Service Pattern: H | Infantry 21/-, Cavalry 27/6. SENT ON APPROVAL FOR SEVEN DAYS. Send chest measurement, also height, with 21s., and coat will be sent (post free in Great Britain) on seven days’ approval, and your guinea refunded if not approved. Patterns free. Ask for Booklet G, j Stirling House, | Sample 2-lb. loaf and address of nearest Allinson Baker sent on receipt of 4d. stamps for postage. NATURAL FOOD CO. LTD., 210 CamBripGE Roap, LONDON, E.C. : CLL Z CSOWU

AKEXEYEXYREXYYEYFORERO AW YE STSEERS TOT 45, Conduit Street, Bond Street, LONDON, W., & 29 Old Christchurch Rd., Bournemouth :

UNADULTERATED [sread WHOLEMEAI

483

, Jann ——

FRENCH The care with which you choose the material for a suit, anda tailor to make it, RED CROSS SOCIETY should be extended to keeping the suit in ; | The London enon tM, QUEEN ALEXANDRA, SS condition after it is made. Occasional | | . Prsiente? [a VICOMTESSE DE LA PANOUSE ; cleaning and pressing in the “ Achille | | i ——_— <“<—<_«_ Serre Way” keeps suits at their | | URGENT NEED OF MONEY best. And it only costs 3/9 per suit! | and the following, among other, SUPPLIES: SHEETS, BLANKETS, | TOWELS, Vv S, PANTS, HANDKERCHIEFS, MEDI- CA iNGS | . SOCKS, 4 L STORES, SURGICAL DRESSINGS. There is also a great and é e | urgent need oo MOTOR AMBULANCES and X-Ray Automobiles. td ) Gifts of money or kind may be sent to the Hon. Secretary, 9 Knightsbridge, eo S.W. ou pn toy be ery able ” aoe Oem, © oes, rs yeah, es Cross, and may also be sent to the French Ambassador, rt Gate, S.W., » e “6 AL } ed "Croix Rouge,” Hon. Auditors, Price, Waterhouse & Co.; Bankers, fice: Hackney Wick, London,(“East 3710" 4 lines) i a eaten Bate PELE A WILRING Hox See ceeanatinn datrp anne | SMA TTTTTTTTTT / WALKING STICKS

Branches and Agencies Everywhere.

C110

TO H.M. THE KING OF ENGLAND.

VERY STRONG STICKS — LIGHT WEIGHT—FOR THE LAME, WITH INOIA-RUBBER SHOE FERULES. 24/- per Doz.

DRESS YOUR BOYS WITH O) WEARS e Wells READY-FOR-DELIVERY GARMENTS. They are excellently Well Cut and Tailored, and will retain their Shape and Good Appearance to the last. COMPLETE OUTFITS FOR HOME OR SCHOOL WEAR. ALL AT MCDERATE PRICES. | ) IS0-196, REGENT STREET, LONDON, W- | | Aalto ——- ———

SWAINE & ADENEY By Appointment to H,M, The King, 185, PICCADILLY, LONDON, W.

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LS. > froma ta fabric teed ab- 2 it is in- veather- a news- pocket, | oroughly djustable / Outdoor vn, olive, § adies, IR h 21s., itain) on unded if ookle G, Fi treet, mouth SUUbURA NOON — — jand towards the bomb-proof shelter {| on a slag-heap in our lines. | exercise due precaution and to adopt OFFICIAL Tre C.O. wiped away from his fore- | head a few small pools of perspiration, | in which adventurous blue-bottles were | dabbling their tentacles. “ Listen to| this,” he said. “The G.O.C. will not | permit the continued use of slang terms in reports and correspondence, such | as ‘dug-out’ for bomb-proof shelter, | ‘sniper’ for sharpshooter, ‘pip-squeak’ for ight high-velocity gun. What is the Army coming to?” As none of the mess dared hazard a forecast, the C.O. continued: “ Well, it’s an order, and orders have to be obeyed, and this battalion is to be in the vanguard of obedience, and if I find any junior subaltern’’—here he glared at the “O.C. signals " —-‘ dis- obeying orders, then——.”’ At this point the Machine Gun Officer walked in. “The Bosches,” he said, “have been potting at my dug-out the whole blessed afternoon.” The C.O. straightened himself. out. “You mean to say ‘The Germans have been directing their artillery fire upon which you are accustomed to occupy.’ ”’ The M.G.O. collapsed and the M.O. prescribed diluted soda-water. We are a loyal battalion, and since the order was read out we have all endeavoured to obey it, though it took days to teach Corporal Bloggs to alter his famous ‘ Now then, do yer bit” to “You are requested to complete your portion.” ~ Other divisions who had not received the order were at first inclined to laugh, but have come to respect us and: to listen with bated breath to our remarks when the trenches are being changed such as, “It is advisable for you to an attitude of semi-flexion when travers- ing this section of subterranean passage on account of errant projectiles from the weapon of a sharpshooter probably domiciled in the conspicuous turret | adjacent to yonder village.” | A few nights ago our Adjutant was almost rendered hors-de-ccombat by a report of a small attack by Germans He insists | that the term “German” is slang and | So refers to them as “ militant bodies of | composite Teutonic origin.” As I was doing a little artificial respiration to | restore him I glanced at his report and | saw—‘. . . from that period a con-} tinuous fusillade of projectiles from light | high-velocity pieces of ordnance was observed to impinge upon the hetero- } geneous accumulation of déblris and | rejecta in close proximity to our posi- | tion; it therefore became necessary to reduce the concentration of our forces NCH, OR THE LON DON CHARIVARL First Tramp. ‘You skemM VERY ‘APPY ABAHT IT, Second Tramp (reading Mr. Asquith's Guildhall Speech). Wor's up?” “Err’s MB BIN GOIN’ WIVOUT LUXURIES ALL THIS TIME, AN' I’VE ONLY JUS’ FOUND OUT THAT IVE BIN’ 'ELPIN' THE COUNTRY TO WIN THIS wan.” in the vicinity. orders to open out.”” “ Open out” was erased and the substituted phrase ran as fc jllows: space between individual members of the section.” There seems to be no limit to the horrors of war. ‘*The new building presents a pleasing appearance, standing on the southern slope of the cliff, and it is easily distinguishable from the railway by its bungalow roof and spacious veramdah.” Hampstead and St. John's Wood Advertiser. Is if wise, in these Zeppelin days, to give away the architect’s secret like this ? I accordingly issued| ‘‘ But manwuvring under and also above a Zeppelin must be conducted with extreme caution, In flying upwards at the speed of 3,000 feet per second, a terrifying vortex is “increase the intervening produced beneath the airship, and, if the |aeroplane should be engulfed, its own de- | struction is certain."—Land and Water. | But do Zeppelins fly upwards, or in ‘any other direction, at this speed, which works out at something over | 2,000 miles an hour? More Commercial Modesty. From a draper’s circular :— ‘* We have recently secured the services of a | Head Dressmaker, who until she came to us | had been engaged in the highest class of work in the West End and Provinces.”

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [JuLy 7, 1915. THE HUMAN SIDE. [‘‘ Owing to his shortness in stature, many people think that Mr. Lloyd George is a small man and lacking in physical power. This, however, is quite a mistake. The truth is that Mr. Lloyd George, who weighs thirteen-and-a-half stone, is a very sturdy person.”—‘* Cabinet Ministers: Their Human Side,” * Strand Magazine.’”} I Love to read about the good and great, Limned in some enterprising magazine, Not in the trappings and the pomp of State, But as they figure in some homely scene— As ‘‘ standing by his kitchen-garden gate,” Or “ playing with his little daughter Jean ’’- Exhibiting, in short, that “human side” Whereby to plainer folk they are allied. I like to know, for instance, that Lord Crewr Delights in playing on the pianola ; Or that he has a favourite cockatoo Which answers to the gracious name of Lola ; That Carson rarely touches Irish stew, And feeds his Persian cat on Gorgonzola, And, though his literary views are sane, Considers Totstor greater than Hatt Carne. It helps me, too, to learn that WaLTerR Lone Prefers jam sandwiches to bread-and-buttey ; That Dr. Macnamara plays ping-pong; That Srmon likes an aluminium putter ; That Mr. Batrour, when his game goes wrong, No sort of oath is ever heard to utter, But always keeps undauntedly serene Save when his caddie hiccups on the green. ; oth aS I thrill to read how Conan Doy ex in hats Requires a size one larger than Marcont; That Dr. CLirrorD sometimes wears black spats And likes milk puddings made with macaroni ; That PapEREwskI is afraid of bats ; That Mrs. Barciay drives a Shetland pony ; That Herbert SaMvueEt has shrimps for supper, But never reads the works of Martin Tupren. It comforts me to know that China tea, And not Ceylon, Assam, or even Senna, Ts regularly quaffed by BeErBonm TREE As well as Mr. Reainatp McKenna; That Mr. Brrrevy smokes a B.B.D. Whene’er he rusticates at Rozapenna, But when at Overstrand prefers cheroots, And always wears on Sunday button boots. Details like these, which writers in The Strand Provide ad lib., I welcome with effusion ; But I resent, upon the other hand, Assertions tending to our disillusion, Or showing that the leaders of our land May end in lame and impotent conclusion, As when the startling statement goes the rounds That GrorGE weighs thirteen stone plus seven pounds. Can we believe it—that our Cambrian sprite, Quintessence of ethereal velocity, Should have expanded in a single night To such a miracle of adiposity ? Such allegations cast a horrid blight On all romance and turn it to jocosity. It cannot be; yet if it should prove true The Censor never should have let it through. And O ye curious scribes, who in your zeal To feed the printing press with fact and fable, Invade the statesman at his frugal meal And catalogue the dishes at his table ; Whatever other secrets you reveal, Henceforth let no one feel himself unable To render faithful service to the State Without your publishing his fighting weigh‘. THE VOLUNTEERING SPIRIT. (Being scraps of conversation from a gathering of literary : nen, artists, etc.) “THERE ’s nothing like a good long route-march for pulling you together. We marched fourteen miles last Sunday and the men didn’t turn a hair.” * What’s the right pronunciation of that word? I thought it was pronounced rowt-mareh, not root-march,” “There were forty of us. Imagine it, forty more or less middle-aged gentlemen and one sergeant-major. He gave us a most frightful doing. If one of us scratched his nose You can’t improve it’; or ‘Ho, very nice, very nice. You | call that giving the word of command, do you? I call it} whispering to a canary in a cage’; or ‘ Look at your watch again, do. Hold it up to your ear and find out if it’s ticking right.’” “ Terrible fellows, these sergeant-majors.” “Yes, but that’s the sort of thing you want—makes you | smart and attentive.” “It’s always done at the trail in Rifle regiments.” “I didn’t know yours was a Rifle regiment. What's the difference ?” * Well, you see, we do it at the trail, and the others do it at the slope.” “Ah.” “You ve got to get into close column of platoons first.” * Are you sure?” “Yes, and then the word of command is, ‘ Line outwards. |form fours; outwards. One platoon (or two platoons) to the right. Remainder, Quick march,’ ”’ “ Yes, but how do you get back to close column ?” “Easy enough. ‘On No.1 form close column of platoons. Remainder form fours; inwards. Quick mareh.’” ’ “That would do it, but it’s not in the drill-book.” «Have you managed to get your rifles yet?” “Yes; Sniders, most of them, about a hundred yards long and weighing a ton. However, we’ve got bayanets.” “The instructor was splendidly cold-blooded about it. ‘Drive it into him sharp,” he said, ‘and draw it out quick. Otherwise he might tumble over atop of you and break your bayonet. If he does tumble over stamp on his body. That ‘ll help you to get it out.’” “What were you practising at?” “A sack stuffed with straw.” “| wish they ’d make up their minds to use’us in some definite way. All the men are as keen as mustard, We got about two hundred of them into camp at Whitsuntide, and they did jolly well.” ‘Have you seen the work of that new b!ack-and-wirite man they ‘re talking about ?” “No; too busy with drills.” “So am I.” it was ‘Leave your face alone—leave it alone, I tell you. |

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915, le, era ry h for > last ; the lo it ons. long t it. lick. reak ody. ome ‘ide, trite Pew 7, 1915,] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON OUR LAST LINE BUT ONE. | Dear Mr. Puncx,—When you think of our soldiers, you generally have in | mind the men who are in the trenches in Flanders, or are going out to give | the final push to the German Empire lin the Summer. But there are others ; whom you never hear people talk about. Take ourselves, for example, Here we have heen since August, guard ing the defended port of Mudhaven. I refrain from further details for fear of giving information to the enemy ; and, anyhow. you can buy picture post- cards of all the forts at any stationer’s | shop in the town for Id. each (or 2d. coloured). But I may safely say that | it is the last place the Germans would ‘ be likely to attack. | But you mustn't imagine that we | have no excitement. Captain Driver's | engagement with a tin can off Pier: ‘Head Fort thrilled us for weeks. He ‘engaged it with his heavy guns and subsidiary armament, and when it drifted so close in that they couldn't | train their guns on it they threw | stones at it. The enthusiasm of the! men was splendid. You couldn’t stop | | them, and when the can was picked up : next morning it was found to be riddled with holes, besides having a big dent init. This last was beyond doubt due toa well-directed shot from Capt. Driver himself, who was cover-point in an Oxford XI. famous for its fielding, and serves to show the close connection between the playing fields of peace and success in war. The other forts were naturally jealous, and two nights later, | just to show what it could do, Mud | Fort opened fire on a school of porpoises, who were forced to retire with, it is believed, heavy losses. So we feel that the pirate. submarine will have to dis- guise itself pretty well to get by us. | All the regulars have long since left for the Front. Our O.C. is a gallant , Veteran with a string of medals stretch- jing far back into Victorian times. Indeed, among the men, who are mainly drawn from the rural districts of Mud- shire, where the chronological aspect of history is evidently ill understood, he is widely supposed to have been present at the Battle of Waterloo, an impression due partly to his appear- ance and partly to his habit of referring to that battle when he addresses re- cruits. The other officers are mainly dug-outs who left the Service on account | of age or some other infirmity, such as impaired digestions, defective visions, diseased livers, or merely a general disinclination to work. The rest of us, lawyers, engineers, | schoolmasters and the like, are trying | to follow the intricacies of military | ) 1| od - | Ze ~~ — | > | o~ — | | x ' Sp | Ra ES | Qs | rs | wy: | NN \ Bay f" NWR Wile Do) al eet: \ Laat [-N i iP FS adds ws WN LEST WE FORGET ; THOSE PAILS OF SAND ON EVERY LANDING. etiquette. We have learned that you } ° . | over, or perhaps they will stop sending Otherwise we shall be must never argue with a senior officer, ;us our pay. even if, as may happen, his opinion is in | found at some future date tottering up apparent conflict with the Drill Book. |to our crumbling emplacements, lean- But the habits of our civil occupations |ing against our antiquated ordnance, are difficult to break through. The Colonel is in the nature of things inured to flattery and subservience of every kind, but even he, seasoned old warrior as he is, was electrified when Jameson, who is a police-court solicitor, addressed him in the orderly-room as “ Your worship.” Sometimes we hope that we may yet get a chance to play some more exalted part in this epoch-making time, but mostly we expect to stay where we are till the end of the War. Then—for news comes slowly to these parts—I imagine someone at the War Office will remember to write and tell us it is all searching the sea with spectacled eyes, Waiting, still waiting, for the attack that never comes. Your obedient Servant, Mupsuire R.G.A. (T.) Cause and Effect. * DISORDER IN PRUSSIAN DIET. SHAMEFUL SPECULATION IN Foop.” Glasgow Herald. ‘‘DweLiinc Houses To BE LET. Nice Baby Carriage, in good condition.”’ Liverpool Echo. ; Just the thing for a small family about' to move.

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| three years’ agreement the house agent, | a man of hysteric temperament, assured ; me, with a sob in his voice, that I was entering paradise. / inclined to agree with | certainly a most comfortable house),

| ing himself quite erect, with

| route, 1 | which gave him at a distance 38 PUNCH,

OR THE _LONDON CHARIVARI. (rx 7, 1915.

THE WATCHER AT THE WINDOW. WHEN I took “The Laurels” on a For a time I was him (it was till one day my wife and I decided that in future we would breakfast in the front room which overlooks the road. Carelessly, light-heartedly we made the change, little knowing what misery it would entail. To my mind there are few sadder sights in life than that of a bulky man

running to catch a train. This was what Wilkins, the stout, / elderly person who lived! three houses up the opposite side of the road, used to do every morning. At nine! o'clock, never a second sooner | or later, hé banged his gar-! my | den gate and, passing breakfast-room window en ran alf the way to the, station, a matter of about: half-a-mile, to catch the 9.6. ; He ran very slowly, hold- «w curious skimming effect the appearance of going on. wheels. There was no need for him to run at all, since another train left at 9.11; in} fact, this was the train, report | said, for which as often as! not he had to wait four-and- | a-half minutes. Yet I never | saw him approach the station | in any other manner. Wil- | kins, they to!d me (I did not know him | personally, nor had I any desire: to);| was employed at the War Office, and | sometimes*I- wondered whether this | might not explain the mystery. The | War Office ‘holds many secrets un-| known to the outside \public. Perhaps; the officials there were sworn never to | walk to their morning trains. How- | ever that might be, it was certain, | at any rate,.that..Wilkins, though a married man, did not make a practice | of running” home: from the station in| the evening... Only once did I observe | him do so. On. that occasion it was raining, and he had apparently for-' gotten his wnbrella. At first Wilkins amused me. He was: also useful in a way, because we were able to boil our eggs by him. My wife had an ingenious contrivance with a spirit lamp for performing this opera- tion at the breakfast table, and from, where I sat I could see through a side-, window a long way down the road,

Working-man. ‘ An' GIVE "EM POISON r GAS | f i assed, shots ero avon reigg alipr ogee <r j 1re C 1 g, | #Non- smoking ellow- ssenqer. “Ly ESS TIAN THAT, I’ M SURE.” yh ig ha fe ee es Still no Wilkins. ‘This is — right to the corner re it healt | again unless I put it off till 9.30, which sharply round to the station. When is a later hour than I care for. Wilkins passed our front window we! At last, feeling that I could stand put the eggs in; when he disappeared | the strain no longer, I decided that the behind the corner we took them out. |o ras to sublet “The They were always done to a turn, Laurels’ and rent a house in another Soon, however, I ceased to be amused. 'quarter. It took me three months to As morning after morning I watched! do this, three months during which I him fade strenuously into the offing I|lost flesh so rapidly under the strain began to feel anxious about him. Ij/of watching for the cab containing began to wonder whether he had caught | Wilkins that my wife grew ser iously the 9.6 or had missed it. I hegan. to|alarmed and called in the doctor, who. see him making a wild dash for his | advised a voyage to Madeira. But | carriage, f falling under the train and | would not give in. I refused to leave heing picked up a mangled mass; or|my post before the new tenant had just managing to secure a seat and | been secured.: At last we found him, sinking down hot, damp and breath-| I was down early on the morning of less in his 18-inch collar among his our departure,’ and spent some little | while in wandering round the room, stopping occasionally to gaze through the front window at the ‘house a little way.up* the road in which Wilkins was, perhaps for the last time, eat’ng his break- fast. “It would be a curious coincidence, I reflected, if he were killed this morning, Still, life-was full of coinci- dences ; stranger things had happened. * “At two minutes to nine my wife entered the room. “ Have you ‘got the eggs I asked in a low voice. “ Yes,’ she answered. “ Get them ready,” I said, seating myself at the table. Nine o'clock struck, and [ waited nervously for the bang of Wilkins’ gate. It did

es 424 ee, POISON GAS BUSINESS! THIS 'ERF I'p 1'D CHOKE THE BLESSED LOT ON ‘EM IN

| extraordinary!” I exclaimed. I jumped up and hurried again to the front win- dow. Yes, Wilkins’ house looked much as usual. -The blinds were all up. At seven minutes past nine we decided that he must be ill, and boiled the eggs by the clock on the mantel- viece. Breakfast over (my first satisfactory one for months), I went out to make inquiries about Wilkins. I learnt from fellow- passengers. Both pictures, were distasteful, but it was the former which igradually grew: to possess a dreadful fascination for me. I found it impos- sible to make any real headway with my breakfast till I had allowed suffi- cient time for him to be killed, collected and driven’ home in the station sab. From 9.12 to. 9.30 my eyes became glued to the*corner in the road round which the vehicle would, I knew, one day sooner or later appear with all that | the greengrocer that after forty-two was left»of Wilkins. My wife sug-| years’ service at the War Office he had gested that we should breakfast again | retired the previous day on a pension, in the room which faced the garden at}and was shortly leaving for a little the back of the house, but I could not} placa which he had taken in the tear myself away from my view of the country. road. I felt that when the day came | I must know the warst as soon aS! «The Kaiser has taken supreme command possible. After a while the suspense | j, Galicia, says the Copenhagen correspondent became so trying that I began to wish | of the ‘Daily Telegraph.’ The German head- each time I sat down to the table that quarters are in the principality of Pless, m we could get the business over and | Siberia.” —Lirerpeol Daily Post. done with. Till Wilkins was killed I should never really enjoy my breakfast — |

We hope this is not a mere misprint, | but a case of “intelligent camels ‘| —

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‘hich tand t the The other is to ch J train ning vusly who, ut I leave had im, ig of little d the nally front little hich r the reak- rious 1, if ning, inci- had vutes 1 the ” rc? _> . said, le. and - the t did ssed, utes. ‘is is nped win- oked e all o we oiled ntel- story nake from -bwo . had sion, little the mand ndent head- ss, in PUNCTI, Choleric General (whose staff have been keeping a safe distance). FOR LIKE A DASHED STRING OF SAUSAGES ?”’ OR THE LONDON CHARIVART. — / ! ’ aire ly 1 i [pip rah Aish 7 Lise 54. | bt italia — ne TS LT i ** Now THEN, GENTLEMEN, WHAT ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME ABOUT OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. (By Mr. Punch’s Staff of Learned Clerks.) Ir seems a pet formula with Mr. WiitraM J. Locke to} take a number of pleasant, conventionally well-bred persons, | and dump into the midst of them a primitive and preferably | feminine savage. You may recall a previous instance of| his success with this. In Jaffery (Lanr) he varies the ingredients, but repeats the success. Jaffery was a big} man with a beard, a war-correspondent, upon whose hands | a deceased colleague had left a young widow just plucked | from the mountain fastnesses of her native Albania. So} Jaffery, guided by Mr. Locke, brought Liosha—such was} her terrific name—home to the happy Berkshire abode of| Hilary, who tells the tale. Of course there was the dickens | the end that Mr. Locke has written no more genial and entertaining story than this. In Rank and Riches (Staxtey Pauw), Mr. ArcuipaLp MARSHALL provides his readers (1 hope they are as largely numerous as his skill deserves) with another of his delightful and placid surveys of English country life. He has the authentic feeling for the countryside, its lanes and trees and gardens, its squires, its parsons, its houses—in a word, for its atmosphere, and he deserbes it and its inhabitants with a loving and a careful hand. The story opens with the downfall of the Marquis of Meadshive_and the sale of his great house and its contents to the new rich man from the regions of high finance, Mr. Armitage Brown. Thence flow many complications and not a few collisions . . | . *,* to pay. There were others also; especially when Liosha,| between varying temperaments and traditions. The new in that natural irritation that we all feel at the non-arrival! man does not fit very comfortably into his new life, though of letters, charged the country postman with purloining his son and his daughter do their best to make things more yrint, ion.” | — them, and wound up by flinging him into the ditch and his letters after him. That is the kind of widow Liosha was. But Mr. Locker does not rely wholly upon her for his intrigue. Hilary and Jaffery had a third friend, a pleasant ineffective person named Adrian, who, to the astonishment of the world and his immediate circle, suddenly blossoms forth as the author of the Book of the Year. For my part, I sus- pected Adrian from the first. He had a trick of turning pale and snapping his wine-glass when people congratulated him upon his masterpiece; conduct which I, who have met many novelists, felt to be unusual. Moreover, I started with the advantage of having read T’he Giant’s Robe. Any- how, I spotted Adrian’s secret in once. What exactly he had done, and how Jaffery tried to mend matters, is for you to find out. I am pretty sure you will agree with me at | easy for him. Yet Mr. Brown is in more senses than one a man of metal, and entirely refuses to succumb to the impertinences of the bibulous Marquis. In the interview between the two and in other scenes Mr. MARSHALL gives proof of his excellent turn for dialogue. He does not smash up the weaker character at one blow, but gives him plenty of strong arguments which have to be met and fairly defeated. Thus the issue is left in doubt up to the last, ‘and when the right man wins the reader is all the more pleased. It is a great joy to meet once again some of the characters of the Clinton novels. They are older, but are otherwise their own agreeable selves. There is a good deal of pleasant love-making in this book, but the breaking out ‘of the War, besides making a considerable inroad on Mr. Brown's millions, causes various semi-engagements. to

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| other path of which she 40 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Juny 7, 1915, be left in suspense. I can only say that if the Marquis of| mental. The leading character is a village worthy, one Meadshive eventually applies for Katie Brown I shall for- | Mrs. Kidston, ex-nurse at the Hall, whose present abode, bid the banns, for Katze is charming, and the Marquis|The Tollhouse, gives its name to the book. This Mrs, cannot safely be left within half-a-furlong of a bottle of Kidston is an excellent person. In the year before the whisky. | War it had been her proud privilege to visit London and Soa ‘see the state procession at the opening of Parliament. Yor quite a long time I hoped that Miss Isanen C. CLARKE; There she was further witness of the breakdown of the was enjoying, doubtless at my expense, a laugh which} German Ambassador's state coach, an incident subsequently eventually in her merey she would invite me to share. | exalted by her to the dignity of an “omen.” The worst of Then, particularly if 1 could have secured a vicarious! The Tollhouse, as of all War-tales published to-day, is that, revenge by working the jest off on you, I should have felt!as the main plot is concerned with the -punishment of she was within her rights and all would have ended well. Germany, one has to break off with the villain still at But unfortunately in Whose Name is Legion (HutTcHrinson) | large. There are, however, subsidiary happenings, whose the laugh never turns up, for as the plot develops there| nuptial termination pleasantly ends an attractive, if rather becomes ever more relentlessly apparent a serious purpose | undistinguished, little book, which may be of some value of a quite unusually alarming character. Even if one as a record of our contemporary life, in the happier days { cannot altogether acquit the authoress of applying her | when it shall have ceased to be contemporary. study in demonology to an end of sensation (though after all she had to do something to keep things moving) the fact remains that she has set, out to light a flaring’ beacon, a warning away, “eg from Spiritualism and a! == call towards Rome, there’ being, it would seem, no, = has ever heard. Whatever | the merits of her opinions, | $ there they are beyond mis- take ; and that is no matter ~ for legitimate grumbling. | All the same 1 doubt whether, even if you ac- cept her positions, you will read to the end without a: considerable degree of irri- | tation. One would have thought that in the long’ intervals of small - talk. between the lurid patches there might be ample opportunity for neatly) - tidying-up the odd threads | of narrative, but the truth | is that the writer’s treat- | — ment of her subject is so crude and slipshod that, as a story, it really does not hang together at all; and so the self-complacency of her assumptions goes unredeemed. Possession by evil spirits is, to put it mildly, a theme to be approached with discretion, and I cannot say that Miss CiARKE has shown much competence for so delicate a task. Her book is neither very readable nor yery wholesome. The Tollhouse (SmitH, EvpER) is a War story, inasmuch as it treats of English life since last August; but, being entirely simple and unambitious, it succeeds where others of more ambitious scope have failed. Miss Evenyn Sr. Leer has written of an English village society of the older and still feudal style, dominated by the squire, and with the others, from parson downwards, respectively in their proper stations. She shows how these placid folk, preparing for the mild gaieties of a rustic August—cricket matches, Primrose League gatherings and the like—were overtaken by the bewildering upheaval of their ordered existence ; and she traces the course of their changed lives through the months that followed. I have said that the book is pleasantly simple. At its best there is a touch of Cranford about the style of it. But in places I will not Mr. Brown-OrkPINGTON TAKES PRECAUTIONS IN VIEW OF A POSSIBLE ZEPPELIN RAID. AN EVENING SCENE IN THE POULTRY-RUN. { JT eannot believe that Messrs. Hurcuinson AnpD Co. would give anything but an honest and unbiassed opinion of any beok which appeared under their im- print ; so, when they say of The Gillingham Rubies that it is “brightened by innumerable touches of Mr. EpGar Jepson’s in- comparable humour,” I can only suppose that they share with the friends of Mr. Peter Magnus the delightful quality of being easily ‘amused ; for, speaking for ‘myself, I found that Mr. | Jerson’s humour did very little by way of brighten- ing a story which certainly needed all the brightening it could get. I am dis- appointed in Mr. Jepson. | There was a time, after | the appearance of that ; . are jovial tale of his where the villains spent their spare moments performing human sacrifices in the back garden of a suburban heuse, when I fancied that he was about to give the world a new sort of sensation novel. But the promise of that story has never been maintained, and The Gillingham Rubies is rather poor stuff. I have an idea that Mr. Jerson is taking too little trouble over these part humorous, part sensational novels of his. It is true that they are not particularly exalted literature, but that is no reason why he should not pay a reasonable amount of attention to style and character- drawing. It looks as if Mr. Jepson did not hold a high enough opinion of this book to read twice what he had written, and I am bound to say that, if that is the case, I can sympathise with him. I should not care to have to read The Gillingham Rubies twice myself. But it is nice to think of Messrs. Hutcuryson anp Co. chuckling over it. From an article on ‘The Way to End the War”: ‘*There would be no need to wait until we had reached an aerial strength of, say, ten or twenty thousand machines. With two or three thousand, which could be turned out in as many months, our new aerial army could get busy.”—Daily Dispatch. Even so, it seems that we must wait for a century or two before the War in the Air can start in earnest. deny that the captious may find it a little sugary and senti-

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he xix ee AS ALWAYS, A BARGAIN IS A BARGAIN AT MARSHALL & SNELGROVE'S SUMMER SALE July 5th—24th WE have kept our workers busy for the past six months _ Making distinctive apparel. In our desire to continue keeping them occupied, we are offering these articles at bargain prices during the sale. To clear our goods now is more important than the making of profits, ECE ml WRITE FOR “THE BOOK OF THE BARGAINS” TO MARSHALL & SNELGROVE, Ltd. VERE STREET & OXFORD STREET LONCTON, W. Perfect Ease { at all des A ZA AERTEX CELLULAR is cheaper, healthier and more comfortable than wool. It is durable, ‘easily washed, and does not shrink. It is entirely of British manufacturee AERTEX CELLULAR consists of small cells containing air—the best non- conductor of heat. The body thus clothed maintains its normal temperature, being surrounded by a gradual changing layer of air without direct contact A selection from list of depots where BR purposes, civilians are recommended to wear Cotton AERTEX CELLULAR clothing BURGH —JENNE HARROGATE-—W. G. ALLEN & SON, 6, Prosy&ct Crscnt. DS—HYAM & CO., Ltd., 42, Briggate. IVERPOOL—WATSON PRICKARD, 16, Nth. John St. LONDON—ROBERT SCOTT, 8, Poultry, Cheapside, E.C. | s ALDE OLIVER BROS., 417, Oxford Street, W. CAMBRIDGE ALDERSHOT 1. WHITE & CO., Ltd., Union Street CHELTENHA ASH FORD—G. H. HUNTER, Ltd., 64, High Street. COVENTRY— BAT: H—CHOOK & SONS, 21, High Street. DUBLIN-_F.G BED, FORD—J). & A. BEAGLEY, 5, High Street. EDINE oH LFAST—LOWRY & OFFICER, 12, Donegall Street. GLASGOW—A BRA AM_ JOHN RISDON & CO., Lad ‘ « high St. | BAS — OWN, JFF & CO., Ltd., Market Street. SRIGHTON—RORT. NEEDHAM & SONS, Ltd. ] L This label An Ideal Suit of Summer Underwear, for 5/- WOOL being largely required this year for MILITARY with the outer atmosphere, hot or cold weather making no difference. Illustrated price list of full range of AERTEX CELLULAR Goods for Men, Women and Chil- dren, with list of 1,500 depots where these goods may be obtained, sent post free on application to The CELLULAR CLOTHING Co., Ltd., FORE STREET, LONDON, E.C. Day Shirt, from 3/6 AERTEX CELLULAR goods may be obtained : TOL—ARTHUR QUANT, Corn St. & Clare St. H MANCHESTER—CRASTON & SON, 85, Oldham Street. NEWCASTLE, STAFFS.—HENKY WHITE. NOTTINGHAM—A. Hi. GOODLIFFE, 26, Clumber Street, OXFORD—W. E. FAYERS, 12, Queen Street. PLYMOUTH—PERKIN BROS., 13, Bedford Street. PRESTON—R. LAWSON & SONS, 130, Fishergate ROCHESTER —J.T. OGDEN, 166, High Street. SHEFFIELD—K. HANBIDGE, Norfolk House, SUNDERLAND~—H. BINNS, SON & OO., 38, Fawcett St. YORK—ANDERSON & SONS, 33, Coney Street. W. EADEN LILLEY & CoO., Ltd. M—CAVENDISH HOUSE Co., Ltd. HAYWARD & SON, 16, Broadgate. . COLDW ELL, 81, Grafton Street, —JENNER'’S, Princes Street. ' RNEIL & YUILL, 20, Gordon Street. | “a —

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x* PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Juny 7, 1915. Vigorous Health It is the duty of every man and woman in these times of stress to get and keep “fit,”’ mental as well as physical alert- ness depend uponit. A few minutes’ exercise daily willensure the stimulation of metabolism — those vital processes upon which real health and vigour de- pend; and the harmonious working of all the bodily functions, together with thorough recuperation of muscle and nerve tissue. But the exercise must be adapted to your particular wants. It is | § not difficult to realise that no cut-and- dried system can meet the requirements of one andallalike. Before commencing aby course of exercise you should read Do You Desire Health ? By T. STANDWELL (The jeading British Physical Culture Consultant). For many years Chief Prescriber and Director of Exercises at the World’s Largest Physical Culture Curative Institute. A postcard will bring it to you FREE. Address: T.W.STANDWELL, 30, Inverna Court, Kensington High Street, LONDON, W. euchi.n, P:&J.-HAGGART es rers to Mose T.M. The King and Queen, ESI) ABERFELDY, SCOTLAND. ieee Real Handwoven Scotch ‘ Tweeds, our own manufac. ture. Any length supplied at Mill prices. Immense stock of Harris and Shetland Tweeds, Clan Tartans, Travelling Rugs, etc Patterns, styles, estimates and self-measure- ment forms Post Free to any address Norwells Perth: Brogues Divect from Scotch Maker to Wearer. Whatever the Sport or Pastime you indulge in when on holiday —if you are Norwell- shod you will enjoy your holiday infinitely more. Norwell’s Perth Brogues give your feet and ankles that comfort and firmness that add to the enjoyment of your holidays. oe » Style No.6—for Men—isa cleverly made shoe for,the man who must be out of doors every day. Can be had with or without hanginz-over taws tongues. Made of the best procurable materials through- out; always soft and flexible, and never loses its perfect shape. Post free in Britain. jew Summer 25/6 Catalogue. Poreign Orders receive shecial attention. Postage is extra. Norwell guarantees absolute satisfaction or @€crfully returnsevery pennyof your money D. NORWELL & SON, Sfecialists in Good Footwear, PERTH - - - - SCOTLAND (Established over 100 years.) @ Write for Royal JN home. VVVVVV VV VY Vv TOV VV VV VF VVVVVVVYV ~ Doulton nothing is one’s individuality more clearly seen than in the intimate surroundings of the In the Chinaware fcr instance. To the discriminating, a ROYAL DOULTON SERVICE means much. of quality and refinement. ments are an unspoken compliment to the guest and always a personal pleasure to the owner. If your China Dealer has not what you require, write to the Royal Doulton Potteries, Burslem, and they will send through him a special selection for YOU. ‘ It carries the hallmark Choice table appoint- a Ln, dl. Ll dL Li Mr, Lan Lar dar Height of Table,] 2-ft. d-ins. “ COLLINGWOOD” GARDEN SET Price £10 10s. Keep-clean cover 15s. Top, closed, S-St. 4-ins. sq. Teakwood Garden Furniture Character and convenience are combined in this “Collingwood” Set. .. It is, perhaps, the most useful the “Fable. WEST-END EXHIBITION of Garden Seats, and all other ex- amples of Hughes, Bolckow Teak- wood Furniture can be inspected at the Dover Street Showrooms. Your visit will-be welcome. _and decorative piece of Garden Furniture that Britain’s old Battleships make. se The four Chairs, when not in use, fit snugly around A waterproof cover fits over the top “and half-way down. This keeps the Table-top and Chair-seats clean and dry—ready, for use always. Hughes, Bolckow Craftsmen have put their best work into this Set. Every joint iells a story of proud thoroughness. And each cubic inch of its substance is everlasting Teakwood—selected Teakwood from Britain's old Battleships. as well as Utility and Beauty into your Garden, It takes History ILLUSTD. ART BOOKLETS of Mementoes & Indoor & Outdoor Furniture made from the Timbers of H.M.S. Collingwood, Barfleur, Southampton, Wellesley (late Bos- cawen) & Renown, posted on request HUGHES, BOLCKOW & CO., LTD. -10 Dover Street, Piccadilly, W. Shipbreaking Yard: Blyth, Northumberland, For Gentlemen. Waltham Watches Of all reliable Watchmakers and Jewellers. WALTHAM WRISTLETS IN SILVER CASES. SE vcctecesss £810 0 No. 165 ..... Riverside ......... 614 3 eee Lady Waltham.... 418 9 No. 160..... FREE.—Watch Booklet and Wristlet Watch Pamphiet post free from THE WALTHAM WATCII CO. (Dept. 41), 125 HIGH HOLBORN, LONDON, W.C. Accuracy Marvellous accuracy of time keeping has made Walthams the most famous watches in the world. The key-note of Waltham construc- tion is accuracy, not for one year or two, but for a lifetime. ze There is no better or more useful gift for soldier or sailor than a Waltham Wristlet Watch. Look for the name. For Ladies ' coccces £314 0 | Maximus..........£8 3 cocccce 214 3 : Riverside.,........ 618 0 eeccece 290 i tmscdienssdde Saab Ae Sapphire .....-+++ 3S Appetite is often due to internal conges tion. Modern social conditions, especially sedentary occupations. ve a tendency to warpthe natur: functions of the human organism, TAMAR INDIEN GRILLON taken at regular intervals will counteract this tendency, pro- moting a healthy appetite and a keener vitality. It is equally effi- cacious for Hemorrhoids, Bile, Constipation, Gastric and In- testinal troubles & Headache. Sold by all Chemists and Druggists, 26 per box. favourite Sock , Supporter From ail Outfitters, or Sphere Suspender Co., LEICESTER. Sphere a are Best moderate-priced Stock in London. * The Practical Book of Furniture” (th Edition) FREE. Wm. SPRICCS & Co., Ltd., FURNITURE for Cash 238-241, TOTTENHAM COURT ROAD, W. DELICIOUS COFFEE RED WHITE For Breakfast & after Dinner. SPROCK’S ‘Never require grinding.’ Made and Ground in Sheffield, Eng) Black Handles, 5/6 each ; Ivory Han- dies, 78. 6d. each. Sprock’s Razor Strops, Pocket and Table Cutlery. From all Cutlers & Hairdressers Wholesale: Parton,Son&Co,Ld 2 BLUE

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—.} #] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Juty 7. 1915. xxi «=. ||ROBIN HOOD HESE exclusive features of the Goodyear Tyre ex- plain the enormous output of 10,000 Tyres a day. Sor ‘ % | Oe BE ESTON The Hall Mark of Motor Insurance. | RA D | ATO R S The Pall Mall Gazette, | 1. The All-Weather Tread, ’ aes 7 see Forces dust or mud through June 18th, 1915, says: Will heat your house « is dagenl quews Uh ie “This company has built cheaper than any \ treads grip the hard road sub- as Se stance, giving perfect immunity other method. be ee from skidding, ROBIN HOOD BOILER. ising in the business, and |}] wWexT WINTER'S FUEL will be VERY COSTLY. has a list of over seven | up a large connection in motor insurance by special- The rubber of the tread is riveted right through the Fabric 2. Rivet-Fabric Breaker Strip . : : ' hundred repairers through- |f| (Read Copy of Letter received through a Keating Engineer.) Breaker Strip on to the body of out the kingdom who are : CIRENCESTER. the Tyre — which eliminates ; GENTLEMEN, : : all risk of tread separation. authorised to carry out re- I am pleased to tell you that No. 5 “F’? Robin Hood ae - e | Boiler which is heating my house is entirely satisfactory. pairs on the spot w ithout | The Boiler heats 14 different apartments, including a small 3. On-Air Beg Cure. ality or tr Greenhouse, n 1/- per day for . sage formality or trouble to the Soult house, af s total cost of less ths . ’ The Goodyear is final cured on assured.” I may add that the Boiler is most convenient for the an inflated bag which gives the _ servant to stoke up the last thing at night, and I am same shape and pressure it will surprised that more people do not adopt this method of receive in actual use — which Full particulars from heating their houses, as the saving in expense and labour saves 50°/, of blow-outs due to is so apparent. : wrinkles in the inner fabric. The WhiteCross Insurance Yours faithfully, Association, Ltd., Those are the 5, Moorgate Street, London, E.C. THE BEESTON FOUNDRY Co. Ltd. reasons why the BEESTON, NOTTS. oop be oes» i i: cae Wp Gs, pes GBR is the fortitied Tyre. / : S rex | | The GOODYEAR TYRE & RUBBER CO. Y Me, y (Great Britain) Ltd., Sspommmmmms | || > | ae Po Canal ow, Kwa, Ldn, WE ‘ a 4 , 4 255, Deansgate, Manchester. SEFICERS* oe RAIN PROOF. MIXTURE |- V1 for | 2for || | 2 yor Bln = Gentlemen who prefer the Services of ahouse possess- ing military traditions, should write for details of ° | our £30 KIT sralso for a gratis copy of ARETT Tips for Subs.,” a little | book every young Officer would do well to read—and a specimen of “ Omne Tem- pus” Khaki, guaranteed Rainproof without Rubber (VIRGINIA) | 20 for OF | IN DECORATED POCKET CASES ad | | Officers’ g each rs, D $e: — | |Giterd | OXFORD Cincys | $5467 ee |Wuocare Hiug | Hy. +664: LONDON. sc Phe te! cm 2? SW Ming. = , Mp Why. oct = >’. A My -. Why b2>~ Marae att Z Pes ||P | eeemree || HV ||

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_ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON _CHARIVARI.—Jvty 7, 1915.

——_— —_

Salad Days! When_ young green things get soused in oil and vinegar, with a touch of pepper, and, of course, l | | |

OFFICERS’ SERVICE KITS ALFRED WEBB MILES & COMPANY are executing a very large number of orders for the above from Officers in all branches of His Majesty’s Army, and are constantly re- ceiving letters expressing complete satisfaction. N.B.—Camp Equipment supplied. Write for full Price List and Patterns.

Cerebos Salt

ALFRED WEBB MILES & CO. 12, 10, 8 & 6, BROOK ST., HANOVER SQ., LONDON, W. Telegrams: “Webb Miles, London.” (Established 1841.) Telephone: Mayfair 988.

SAVE COAL and serve the Country

a This important advice has just been CAPITAL - £2,250. 0. 0 AND é 4 U — published by the ena og produces and concerns every one Of us, Dut 1 is equally ienpeuedne to know how to INCOME : £259. 10. 43 ———| poem obtain the same amount of heat pee a oe aan 11} per cent. seems incompatible with safety, yet it = fy % advantages of the famous) HUE is not, On the contrary, the income is guaranteed ee * has been proved to give his health be under normal, better terms even than ANE : the same heat from a these will be offered. And there is the -definite . E . Set ech guarantee that the income will be forthcoming as 4 . = absolutely safe, is used in thousands of private houses, and by the leading Railway Companies, Hotels and In- stitutions. The illustration shows its simplicity of construction ; it is easily fixed, and there is no need to dismantle the existing grate or mantelpiece. The HUE FIRE is not a luxury—it is as much a necessity as the fireplace itself. long as life lasts. That assurance is comforting. It relieves the mind from all anxiety as to financial comfort in old age. The larger income, 11} per cent. instead of, say, 4 per cent. or 5 per cent., provides greater comforts, meets the higher cost of living, meets the heavier taxes, and leaves perhaps a surplus for one

But do not be misled by so-called to give practical expression to generous instincts. : ‘* adaptable "’ fires, which are nothing ‘sc ; ” _— ida aaa Te aa i The , Sun _ hom Rates are better than = “HUE” is cast on every genuine ose of any other first-class company. All kinds ae yo stove. Price 15/=, and obtainable from your local decorator, or we will send you name of tradesman in your locality who has had practical experi- ence of its merits. POST FREE beautifully illustrated booklet giving photographs and details of the various designs and sizes. YOUNG & MARTEN, LTD. (Dep. P), Stratford, LONDON, E.

of Annuities are dealt in—Immediate, Joint, De- ferred, and Annuities with guaranteed return of Capital. Assets £ 13,000,000, under strict Govern- ment supervision. Write for particulars to J. F. Junkin (Manager), Sun Life of Canada, 44, Canada House, Norfolk- street, London, W.C.

DOG RENNEL= | TENNIS F ¥ KAIING FENCING VICTORIA WORKS, WOLVERHAM London Offices and Showrooms: 139 & 141 CANNON ST,, E6 Catalogue Free.

CROWN Glow Dial

The ONLY Cheap Watch that will not fool you. ‘THE cost of Ingersolls is nearly all in their movements—all other makers of Cheap Watches reverse this policy, putting worth- less movements into showy cases. They make Watches to SELL—not to keep time. The name is on the dial’ of every genuin> All Ingersoll Quality Watches are now sup- Luminous Dials at 2/6 extra for Glow Points and Hands, and 5/- extra for glow plied with Illustrated Catalogue free on request. ROBT. H. INGERSOLL & BRO., 69 Audrey House, London, E.C,

keep such edges without chipping. ngersoll. Firestone users. figures and hands.

Firestone TYRES — The Firestone lettered tread makes possible a maximum thickness of rubber, without 10ss of flexibility. There is no side-wall trouble with Firestones. The Non-Skid Tread grips any kind of road, never slipping or skidding, not by suction devices which waste power, but by its ever-sharp edges. Only super-excellent rubber cot Feel Safe !—Be Safe !—Always. Your dealer can supply you with Firestone Tyres. Ask him. Join the army of satisfied Firestone Tyres are made in the world’s biggest exclusive Tyre and Rim Works. Write fot Firestone's Book, “ What's What in Tyres "—free from :— FIRESTONE TYRE & RUBBER Co., Ltd., “*, 3b’ 7 Solids and Pneumatics

a

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—— ————— KITS ANY rders ies of y re. ction. CO. ION, W. ir 988, rooms: ST., Eo ——__ nd ics hout loss y suction ber could Vive la France ! Why not CLARET The “Lancet” says: “A sound CLARET may almost be placed in the temperance category by reason of its low alcoholic strength, and we are not disposed to think that in drawing attention to the good value in choice CLARETS now available to the public any possible injury to the cause of temperate living, which all reasonable persons have at heart, can arise. Consult CLARET Specialists SAMPLE CASE | (6 varieties—18/- to | | 52/- per dozen) for | 15/- carriage paid | —_— | JOHN HARVEY & SONS | BRISTOL. Ltd. Cool in Hot Weather O have col feet in hot weather one must wear the right sort of shoe, such as this Lotus 769. It is cut from brown calf—a rich, dark shade of brown, quiet and cool-'ooking—tanned by a special vegetable process which leaves the pores opener than does the usual chrome tanning, so keeps the shoes naturally ventilated. Then, too, the soles—indeed all Lotus soles—are treated in a special way so as to extract from them all the chemicals used in tanning, which, particularly in hot weather, make the shoes uncomfortably clammy and the feet tired and sore. So, though the sun glares down and the pavements blister, a man may walk cool and comfortable in Lotus—particularly in No. 769. | Letters | Lotus Ltd, | Stafford | | Manufacturers of Lotus and | Delta Shoes Lotus 21/- On sale 3 sizes and half-sizes from 5 everywhere, in Columbus’ good liver But for his buoyant optimism (active liver) he would have stopped before he started. To-day human nature and the human system are precisely what they were in his day. All the doubting, disapproving, gloomy, Pessimistic people are those whose livers are weakened and overbur- dened; and whose blood there- fore is loaded with wastes and toxins, affecting their thoughts and impulses. People who for years have per- secuted and weakened their liver with drastic pills or draughts are reluctant to believe that kindness can do it any good. | of Cockle’s Pills. Yet kindness is the whole secret By making its task easier they give the weakened and injured liver a chance to re- gain its normal strength and act- | ivity. Result: Emancipation from | the gloom-poisons, from lassitude | and half-health. You cannot send anyone else to make this discovery for you. You must make it yourself. A New World of finer pleasure-in- living awaits your discovery when you have encompassed the tiny Globes called Cockle’s Pills Sold by Chemists throughout the World, 1/1} and 2/9. JAMES COCKLE & Co., 4, Great Ormond Street, London, W.C. (ot eos) Gladden his heart by the gift of the world’s best Fountain Pen. Watérman’s Ideal FountainPen — The ‘‘SAFETY” Type is recommended for Scldiers, Sailors, Doctors, Red Cross Nurses, Ladies, Travellers, Sportsmen. It cannot leak, however carried. Nibs to suit all hands. (Exchanged gratis if not right.) Every pen guaranteed. 10/6 and upwards for Regular and Sel{- filling Types. 12/6 and upwards for Safety and Pump- filling Types. Of Stationers and Jewellers every- where. AVOID SPECIOUS IMITATIONS! Booklet free from L.G.SLOAN, Che Pen Corner, KINGSWAY, LONDON, W.C.

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20 \ ees Bldgs. 29 Church St. Liverpool. @ \ TUNVUOATUOUYGQOOOUUQNOEOOUUUOOOOEOUUULOAGEEOLAOSOGEOUOUONEEOUAAADDUTAAOUEAO ATTEN STITT TTT TLL LL PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Juty 7, 1915. ° Make your Wrist Watch break-proof ! Every wrist-watch wearer—soldier or sportsman—needs the Army Protector which converts avy wrist watch into } a miniature hunter guarding the glass and case from breakage, protecting the wearer from the danger of splint- ers, and preventing dangerous reflections from the glass. WRIST Gives absolute WATCH protection to Watch. Well made in various styles and sizes to fit any wrist watch. Op2ns witha SN single movement—unobtrusive, and light in weight. Send one to your friend at the front. Nickel and Khaki Finish 16 Leather Covered ... 26 Solid Silver from 66. e%] Also in Solid Gold. Sold by Jewellers, Silversmiths, Cutlers, etc. In case of difficulty in obtaining write to SALES MANAGER - JULY LINEN SALE 4 UR July Sale presents | an opportunity of filling up household linen re- quirements at prices that can- not last much longer owing to scarcity of flax. It will pay to write for our Sale Linen List, as many of the items quoted cannot be repeated afterwards. COLLARS Castle quality Collars in newest single and double shapes, all faced with fine Irish linen woven in our Belfast factories, reduced to 5/9 per dozen. Royal quality, 7/9 per dozen. Postage, 3d. extra. SHIRTS Coloured Tunic Shirts, soft fronts, rounded cuffs with two buttons in front, made of Oxford and Zephyr Cloths in neat blue, black, helio and green stripes on white back-ground, each 3/1]. Also in fine Zephyr and best quality Oxford Cloths, each 56. HANDKERCHIEFS No. M 10.—Gentlemen's pure Linen Hemstitched Handkerchiefs, about i8sins., with sin. hem. Per dozen, 5/3. Sale List sent post free. Robinson & Cleaver L* 46U DoneGaLt Piace, BELFAST. The Military Size Onoto Pen fills itself, never leaks and exactly fits the uniform pocket. THOMAS DE LA By Appoiatatent, 15 & 15a REGENT STREET, LONDON, wW. Specialists in ae onapeal Highland Outfits. d. Zs Service Jacket (collar badges extra) $ 3 6 Khaki Slacks . . . from | 5 ; = farm (lined camel hair Apron (all round) - 096 leece) =i ee or “wa Hose Tops (Ist quality) 079 oa Great Coat (lined ‘camel . do. (2ndquality) 0 5 6 hair fleece ah iee soe 5 6 Khaki do. do. (Ist quality) 0 4 9 Regimental Kilts. . £5 15s.6d.&6 6 0 Garters. ......... 019 Regimental Slacks . . . . . . 2 5 0 Natural Camel Hair Sleeping Bag 2 2 0 Sporran, Claymore, Sgian Dhu, Bonnet Brooch, Safety Pin, etc. } SERVICE ORDERS EXECUTED ON THE SHORTEST NOTICE, ESTIMATES GIVEN FOR ANY REGIMENT. | are the only Standard 10/6 Fountain Pens All British Made by a British Company with British Capital and Labour. RUE & CO, LTD. Heartburn and Acidity | Causing Sleepless Nights Sufferers from Heartburn, Flatulence Acidity, etc., which are so often the caus of sleepless nights, are invited to send for a Free Sample of Dr. Jenner's Absorbent Lozenges, which Messrs. Savory & Moore make from Dr. Jenner's original formula and recommended as a valuable remedy for these complaints. The lozenges are pleasant to take and quite harmless. | The testimony of those who use them, of which the following letter is an ex- ample, affords the most convincing proo! of their value. Burnaby Road, Bournemouth “T am very glad I sent for a trial of Dr Jenner's Absorbent Lozenges, for I foun them so beneficial that I immediately secure: a large box, and now, after a somewhat er tended use of them, I can truthfully say they have done and are doing me more good than anything else I have tried for Heartburn and general Acidity. They have saved me from a good many sleepless nights. 1 feel % grateful that you are at liberty to use this testimonial if youchoose. _E. Firparo.’ Boxes 1/1}, 2/9 and 4/6, of all Chemists. A FREE TRIAL BOX will be forwarded to all who write, enclosing 1d. for postage, and mentioning Punch, t Savory and Moore, Ltd., Chemists to The King, 1434, “ Normanhurst,”"’ New Bond a London, W OUR HEALTH IS AN ASSET of which you may increase the value by reading Dr. H. Valen- tine Knaggs’ book : ‘‘ Indigestion: ItsCauseand Cure.” 1/- postage 3d. ¢ C. W. DANIEL, LTD., 3P TUDOR ST., EC. Send penny stamp for free copy of the one health magazine with a sense of humour. 000000 ua will some nice person . S€NA along a box of 4 SRlours COAL TAR Soap—— ao ae = _ a re “ TOP NOTCH sid of Scotch. KNOWN AND APPRECIATED ALL OVER THE WORLD. THE DISTILLERS CoMPANY Le EDINBURGH. Capital em enslaved over r £3,000,000._| ——— a P iH 4 | f i t | = Are | » | Pur | and & Sup } mot pur: scal con (Sar Wit & Sc | Ec

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Xxv | —a _ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI—Jvty 7, 1915. ‘ a, 7 n FOR NEARLY A CENTURY the Medical Profession have approved this as the best 3 and safest remedy for Acidity of the Stomach, Heart- burn, Headache, Gout and Indigestion. Dinneford’s Magnesia is also an aperient of unequalled value for infants, children, those of delicate constitution, and for the distressing sickness of pending motherhood. THE MOST EFFECTIVE APERIENT FOR REGULAR USE BY PEOPLE OF ALL AGES. In consequence of numerous imitations, purchasers should INSIST on seeing the name “‘ DINNEFORD'S" on every bottle. Only by so doing can they be sure of obtaining this most excellent remedy. Dinneford’s Magnesia mixed with Spring Water forms a pleasant, cooling and most beneficial drink in Hot Seasons and Climates, and also during Fever. (UL ar a Wz INVALID CHAIRS to wheel up or down stairs—and many other ingenious devices for the com- fort and relief of the wounded—can cidity | {| SS Nights; use them pee be obtained from JOHN WARD Lt. > Cause s , 99 ° ° ° o send for aN . A “John Ward” Chair is the ideal Absorbent VAs) * gift for a Red Cross Hospital. Ay Moore | Fey Write for No. 3 Book of Models. Peace Prices. ul formuls le remedy WF, JOHN WARD LTD., Op enges are 4 . MAKERS TO THEIR MAJESTIES, OR ee eo ers ENE Wy Ae harmless, | ws A 246B Tottenham Court Rd. London, W. INVALIDS BREAD is an ex- sated | a There is no need nowto ban- / ish bread from the diet of any Road, CUTICURA |/ LA) h invalid. The very highest rial of Dr I tph VitH Wa standard of digestibility and r I foun COMPLEXIONS rE ae LH y AN { i) | nutritive value is found in the ves hae Sai mf Ve ; crisp dainty baton loaves of yy he if! ify Ii KS Fi Wh) y) Energen Gluten Bread ‘bur an Are Usually Fresh and Clear, | iy ISS LSM i The most delicate system > from | | j} Png \ I ; : . . a. ae lee. Oe \\ gg’ plats sppeoves it Mt henpe PPARD.” fresh indefinitely. Certified emists. = by the Institute of Hygiene. | The Soap to cleanse and | Sold by stores and chemists % josin || PUtify, the Ointment to soothe in sealed boxes of 12 loaves 3/6 Punch, ‘and heal. Thus these fragrant Write for sample loaf. Sioa, § Super -creamy emollients pro- THE THERAPEUTIC FOODS CO. Led ASSET ise the Valen- a ian * r Experts in developing. No waiting; work ston : | Sample Each Free by Post returned — day. Any size m for - | i exposures, - for 6. Prints « each. | age 3d. i} _ j Cameras bought for _cash or exchanged. | 3T., E.C. | the one humour. eee ee purity and beauty of the skin, scalp, hair and hands under all }| conditions. & and maintain the natural | g With 32-p. book. Address F. Newbery & Sons, 27 Charterhouse Sq., London, Ta — | PAR | E.C.,Eng. Sold throughout the world. + Heithon Kitchen fires tp Y Wy VU J db: J, —— 4, Bedford Chambers, Covent Garden, W.C_ Amateur Photographers Send your Films to MARTIN. List Free. MARTIN, Chemist, SOUTHAMPTON, KE Instant Hot Water Just te ULTON & in LO) = ES ENGLISH OX TONGUES POTTED MEATS & FISH PASTES (In Tins and Glasses) For Breakfast, Luncheon or Supper Sold everywhere. If any difficulty in obtaining, write POULTON & NOEL, Ld., London, N, j/turn taps, that’s the Parkin- son way. No dirt or trouble. ‘Economical and dependable. = \§| Send for Booklet A of latest automatic systems om 129, HicGh Hotsorn, Lonpon, E.C.

Page 70

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Juty 7, 1915.

Oxford VARSITY: The Ideal Lounge for the Wounded Special Prices to Hospitals and Officers’ Messes. PRICES according to lensth of seat. 23-in. 27-in. 30-in, 33-in. 36-In- 23/- 27/- 30/- 33/- 36). Send for paiterns of coverings and illustrated booklet to (Dept. D) MINTY, 44 High St. Oxford { ee } AE 5 Style No. 4. The Better Way of Marking Linen CASH’S NAMES WOVEN ON FINE CAMBRIC TAPE IN FAST TURKEY RED COTTON. Write for complete list of the many styles in which these Names can be woven to— J. & J. CASH, Ltd., Coventry, % or to American Branch: 35, Chestnut Street, S. Norwalk, Conn.; Canadian Branch: 301, St. James Street, Montreal; Australian Branch: 246/250, Flinders Lane, Melbourne.

— Please mention

OVER 12°. This is the return yielded by a Canada Life Annuity to a man of 67, Other ages in proportion. Best value — greatest security. Prospectus post free from CANADA LIFE ASSURANCE CO., 7 King St., Cheapside, London, E.C.

P.C.B. 16

FREDK LIPSCOMBE & CO. Water Filtration Engineers.

GERM-PROOF. BRITISH.

49 Queen Victoria St., London, E.C.

Estab. 1794. "Phone: City 2833.

Dri-ped Sole Leather keeps your feet fitand well-shod under the worst conditions. Dri-ped on Service Boots is ideal for the long march over rocky ground or the long days in muddy trenches,

It outlasts at least two ordinary leather soles—is absolutely water- proof—and -its greater lightness and flexibility give extraordinary comfort.

For cleaning Silver Electro Plate &c Goddard’s Plate Powder Sold everywhere. 6% If 26 & 46 inches. every few See the Trade Mark ities ms like this in ale ea 5 Bes ts es Lt RES" P

Dri-pedis supplied on re-soled or new Service Boots by Repairers and Dealers everywhere. See the Diamond trade mark as shown above, in purple every few inches, Get list of Dri- ped Dealers frec, with interesting Booklet, by writing to William Walker & Sons, Ltd., ‘Dri-ped’ Ad- vertising Dept. County Bligs. Cannon St.

New Boots or for e-soling, Manchester.

HOT-WATER Instant IGHT or DAY Ap ae be EWARTS GEYSERS | 546 EUSTON R? LONDON NW.

N° 1 Shaving Cream ANTIQUES Purehased for Cash_or alued FoR EXORS.INSURANCE &c. SPINK & Son,L? 17&18, PICCADILLY, LONDON, W. “EST? 1772.

NOVIO THIN, SOFT, STRONG AND SILKY. SOLD EVERYWHERE.

You are SAFE in dealing with ( (): Peas on

655 Branches in Town and Country. 800 QUALIFIED DISPENSERS. NEARLY 10.000 EMPLOYEES. Issued by Boots Pure Drug Co., a

“* They come as a boon and a blessing to men The Pickwick, the Owland the Waverley Pen” WAVERLEY THE WORLD-FAVOURITE NIB

SMOOTH & DURABLE . BEWARE OF IMITATIONS MACNIVEN & CAMERON, LTD. EDINBURGH LONDON GLASGOW BIRMINGHAM

Why Suffer Baldness! Suspend the premature ravages of Ti Chills and Neuralgia prevented.

YA | A perfectly designed and undetectable covering oF é | Toupé, exactly representing the hair as it e, is the natural remedy. b | Send for Illustrated Booklet, or call and see for yourself. C. BOND & SON, Specialists forGentlemen’sToupés&CompleteWiss 61, New Bond St., LONDON, W.

CONNOISSEURS ALL THE WORLD OVER PREFER DD SCOTCH WHISKY PETER DAWSON, Ltd. Distillers, 82-845, GREAT CLYDE ST. GLASGOW.

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- PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Juty 7, 1915. Builds Bonnie Babies Recause Glaxo is pure, uncontaminated - milk, free from disease germs, with all its natural sweetness and purity perma- nently retained at the source of supply, ( , ee and by the special Glaxo Process made ty easily digestible even to a young or very weak baby, baby should have Glaxo if mother’s milk is unavailable. Simply and instantly prepared by merely mixing with boiling water. Ask your doctor! Write for free copy of the Glaxo Baby Book. Trial tin 3d. GLAXO, 46n King’s Road, St. Pancras, N.W. Proprietors JOSEPH NATHAN & Co. Ltd. Wellington, New Zealand, Glaxo is entirely British and London. > made & British owned. yANY:; your Doctor!

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Joty 7, 1915, PE DIPDPIVUNIK Re ON IMO TAO GO| 7 “Te y. | 4 : q d t “ a | 4 : 2 Q Nt 6) b} I. 4 t y ) x ] e i e | 4 ie C 1 ae e) , e | E g oF gj | ae on i! q F 7 t ‘ iy é | | 3 : b For the Boys at the Front t Q , , Just put a cake or two of K 4 | | 4 a 3 | I ears Oa 3 h @ > + , \ % in the next parcel of presents you are sending Git greatly enhances the Joy of the Wash and the Shave. g f Large cakes supplied in boxes of 3 Tablets convenient , *| for enclosing in parcels; it takes up very little room. 1 tie SLOP OTE PAPAS GGG MO AVY YE Agnew & Co., Limited, 19 Bouverie Street, E.C., and p riars, in the City of London—WEDNESDAY, July 7, 1 ub ished weekly by him i the Office at Bouverie Street, Printed by Herbert Heather, at the Printing Offices of Messrs. Bradt i 915. radburv, a in the Precinct of Whitef

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treet, Juny 14, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 41 CHARIVARIA. WE are requested to state that Lord FisHER’s new post—Chairman of the Board of Inventions—in no way tallies with that filled by the Managing Director of Wourr’s News Bureau in Germany. ee We are glad to see that Dr. F. C. remarks about Sir Epwarp Grey. Sir Epwarp will now return to the Foreign Office without a slur on his character. Mr. Pxuitie SNOWDEN moved an amendment to the National : Registration Bill, describing the measure as “an unwarrant- able interference with the personal liberty of the people.” We sincerely trust that this legislator has got a binding undertaking from the Kaiser that, if his Huns come over, there will be no unwarrant- able interference of the sort | referred to. ing to the Gazzetta del Popolo, ; recently climbed into a church i belfry to watch the positions of ; the combatants at the Front, and remarked, ‘‘ The House of | Savoy likes a good front seat in the Theatre of War.” Tastes vary. The House of Hohen- zollern prefers the gallery. | The King of ITaty, accord- | Writing in’ the Berliner | Tageblatt Major Moraut says “ee that great difficulty is being ; experienced by the Germans. in getting an adequate water supply in Northern Cham- pagne. A propos of this an | indignant wine expert writes HABIT O BANKIT First would think of watering Champagne.” At times we are frankly puzzled to know what to make of the Germans. We used to think that they lacked humour, and yet read this — from the Neueste Nachrichten :—* Our foes ask themselves continuously, How can we best get at Germany’s vital parts ? What are her most vulnerable points ? | The answer is, her humanity—her trustful honesty.” : ConyBEARE has withdrawn his nasty , OILSKINS OR MA NEW SEABOOTS.” ‘ PRACTICALLY NAETHIN’ TAE LOSE BUT YER LIFE.” to us:— “Only barbarians ae | A contemporary, in drawing atten-; The way in which some papers are tion to the disappearance of the top-| always having their knife into our hat in London, prophesies its reappear- | sportsmen is really a little unfair. For ance after the War. We must say that example, here’s The Grimsby News, in we think it very wrong of an influential | an article on Canon Quirk, winding up journal thus to hold out an inducement} with the remark, “It is questionable for prolonging the War. | whether he knows what it is to quarrel ag | with anyone. He is a keen sportsman A little while ago, we are told, the nevertheless.” .. , Kaiser asked his favourite journalist | . what he thought about Italy, and; Dr. Fisner, medical superintendent GANGHOFER answered, “‘ Your Majesty, lof Shoreditch Infirmary, stated last it is best for Austria and for us to} week that measles is the most danger- ” . | . . . . Y make Italy a clean house.” To this; ous epidemic in this country. Surely ‘the Katser said, “You are right,|the time has now arrived to give this So the Austrian and‘ disease a more impressive name. big * * Ganghofer.” The German officer, Gun- THER PLuscHow, who escaped ‘from Donnington Hall last week, can be _ identified, we — Jom told, by a Chinese dragon which is tattooed on his left arm. It is thought, therefore, that it is unlikely that he is Br going about disguised as a little girl in short sleeves. * * * The War's first birthday will take place shortly, but it is not proposed to have any public celebration—not even in Ger- many. — nt * We are sorry to hear that our troops in Egypt are feeling the heat. A sharpshooter with a gift for vivid description writes home :—“ At the present time Egypt has two principal sources of irrigation: (1) The River Nile; (2) Me.” Trawler Skipper,(to friend who is due to sail by next ARE YE TAKIN’ ANY PRECAUTIONS AGAINST THESE SUBMARINES, JOCK?” Second Skipper. “ Ay! Death in the Cup. ‘The Germap forces surrendered absolutely unconditionally yester- day. General Botha presented an ultimatum to the Commander, | which expired at tea-time yester- $$ —.- ——-~———! day.”—Reuter. German Ambassadors were withdrawn | We presume that the Germans, by force from Italy. * ok of habit, had poisoned its drink. ALTHOUGH I’VE AYE BEEN IN THE ’ CARRYIN’ MY BITS O’ BAWBEES WI’ ME, I WENT AN’ THEM THIS MORNIN’, AN’ I’M NO TAKIN’ MA BEST Skipper. “Ou, you'RE A’ RICHT, THEN. YE'LL HAE Mr. Jonn Coutrer’s exhibition at | Altruism. the Leicester Galleries does not contain | « 10s, Reward for little White Dog, lost from a single problem picture. The reason | 5, Lake Road.—If not returned please call for ""—Portsmouth Evening News. A curious result of the War, it is ee ae » inanne of this is, we understand, a patriotic | the licence. one, which does him credit. The dis- tinguished painter wishes the nation to devote its entire energies to the War, and not to fritter them away in an attempt to solve his conundrums. As the result of a letter from Sir pointed out, is the fact that our | Paanenet Treves the anti-fly cam- actresses are now being photographed | paign is being prosecuted with renewed with their mouths shut. One would vigour, though some (including the have thought that at such a time all| flies) are still of the opinion that we British subjects ought to show their} should be better advised to wage one teeth. ese ‘* After eleven months of war, there is not a German port outside of Europe, except in the Baltic and North Sea.”’ Newcastle Evening Chronicle. It was always expected that the War would alter the map of Europe. ‘‘ Switzerland is prohibiting the export of soft and second quality hard cheese next autumn and winter, and first quality cheese (Gruyere, etc.) will only be allowed to leave the country under control.’’—Evening News. Cavalry escorts will be provided for the war at a time. more active varieties. VOL, CXLIx,

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42 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Jury 14, 1915, WANTED: A CENSOR OF THE HOUSE. You little folk—just voices, nothing more— Who love to figure on the Chamber fioor, Wallow in sentiments of Teuton tint And see your prattle reproduced in print ; Here in these islands, on your native sward, We know you (not in person, thank the Lord), And on the advertising space you fill Can put its proper value, which is nil. But yonder, in your friend the enemy’s land, Where nobody begins to understand— Where Truth’s imbibed from very ancient founts And still they think a politician counts— Where those who judge us have no measuring-span Whereby to tell a midget from a man— Out there the Press reports your childish chatter | As though it fell from mouths that really matter, | And Berlin says: “They grope without a guide | Now that the expert, A, has come our side;” Or “ Britain’s Empire crumbles at a touch— Her leading statesman, B, has said as much.” And Hans who never. heard your names till now Suck it all in and wear a radiant brow, Crying, “Turn on the gas! Our Gott begins His tardy punishment of England’s sins!” Records of shining courage, such as spur Limp ‘hearts to action, frequently incur The india-rubber of the Press Bureau Lest they afford a wrinkle to the foe; But you, who give us words in lieu of deeds, Content to blather while your country bleeds— Who with an envious malice ply your mission Of carping at a patriot Coalition, Of hounding with the old sectarian hate The men whose only party is the State— No Censor has the pluck, it seems, to tackle The copious spout of your putrescent cackle ; At large it spreads for enemy eyes to view And, viewing, picture England torn in two. Had I my way for just a little spell, I would expunge your words and you as well, Who by your alien tricks have fairly earned The Anglo-Bosch’s right to be interned. 0. S. RUNNING THE WAR. [After the bland method of Mr. Annotp BENNETT every week in “ The Daily News.” T appear to have been sharply brought to book in sundry high places for an observation which I made in this column last Friday, namely, that I anticipated that the | War would be over in about three weeks. Exception was | taken in the same quarter to my contention that it wasn’t | so much a war as an international job. I can only say that, as my readers are surely well aware by this time, I | know all about it, and more than that I mean to go on! writing about it. A man can’t always be writing novels— | that is the truth about an author. If I must once again produce ‘my credentials I may add that I approach the | problem with that expert and well-grounded knowledge of European warfare which is the fruit of a life-long study of the social conditions of the Five Towns. We) have had too much of the fatuous din of experts. This is| Our war. | Some of my many friends call me an Optimist, but I can | only ask them to look at the matter squarely, or rather to | allow me to put it before them in its true light. There are, as we now know—some of us—three important and imminent developments which are calculated to end the international job suddenly at any moment. The first is known to every one; the second is still the secret of the higher command (and myself); the third is known only to me. But there they are. A Tory lady of my acquaintance, -—yes, a Tory lady—recently used these words to me: “ If we don’t win this War we shall lose it, and that means that we shall be defeated, and Germany will be victorious.” I assured her that I would rather be sneered at as an Optimist than hold such reactionary views as these. The Government have more than once had from me (as my readers know) words of warm encouragement and approbation. I repeat that they are an incomparable body of Ministers who have consistently shown the greatest genius in handling this War—that is, this international job. At the same time they are continually perpetrating criminal blunders, and that is where I come in. It is imperative that I should keep setting them right. I have | (as I have repeatedly remarked) a very large correspondence nowadays abcut social matters. And I am always at it. You wouldn’t believe. Only last Tuesday I visited a girls’ school in Sevenoaks, where a proposal had been mooted to teach the elder pupils to make respirators; and not long ago a special friend of mine, who is a leading Trade Unionist, personally conducted me over an engineering shop in Bolton. So I have the whole thing at my fingers’ ends. And I emphatically warn the Government that some things need altering. The country is united and will stand as one man behind the Cabinet in any step which they decide to take. And yet my own private opinion is that there are certain steps (of which I strongly disapprove) which, if taken, would split the country: from top to bottom. I say advisedly that there are forces at work. Instances can be given in my own neighbourhood. I find it better to give these personal instances which come under one’s own eye simply because they are of such extraordinary general interest. Last week an elderly lady connected with the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Help Society called and interviewed my cook, whose husband is in the A.S.C. (Let me say at once that the §. & S. H. Society is doing magnificent work of a far-reaching nature. I have ascer- tained that fact for myself. I made a special point of dropping in not long ago to have a talk with the local secretary. I impressed him very favourably). My cook was subjected to the closest cross-examination as to whether in the absence of her husband she was well fed and cared for in my house. Now that wants altering. Take again the case of Bob Higgs. He is a great friend of mine. I know him well. He is an agricultural-labourer. He tells me he was twenty-three on the 18th of May last. I should say that he is unmarried and has red hair and always fills his pipe with his left hand; 5ft. 83ins., the eldest (living) of a family of five. He had a dispute with his employer about wages and made up his mind to enlist. (I need hardly say that the employer was quite in the wrong; employers always are, though I hasten to add that they have one and all shown magnificent patriotism in the present crisis). Four times Higgs tried to pass the doctor, and every time he failed. So he is forced to stay at home. That wants altering, though candidly I don’t quite see how it is to be altered, as Bob Higgs has only one eye. Meanwhile there is an international job to finish and we must get on with it. The German line in the West 1s still unbroken, and they are pushing forward in the East. That wants altering.

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> are, and | the ‘st is ' the ly to ince, ; or eans us.” 5 an > (as and ‘able utest onal ting [t is have ence t it. rirls’ d to long rade ring my nent iind And teps ould edly ae ome uch ady lled 5.C. ing cer- ; of ocal ook to fed end rer. ast. and the ith list. the add ism ass to y I has we ; is ist. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Juty 14, 1915. | | — | SS a, mae SSN =f ANS SS \ NS Z ZZ _f77 4/47. eas er: —>, VL, LLP] FPP o, % —- UL hbp-pt tt SY APLLTILEE 4 Treo wy LE PLLTT ABE i LALA) EYEE TDL “| EE MY EEE, +] om. Oe ae we ee a a pot | LL $ PTTL TBE GALS ZZ Tl ml 7y al al } THE ENEMY, M.P. Mr. Puncn. “THESE SELF- ADVERTISING PRO-GERMANS MAKE ME WANT IS A CENSORSHIP OF PARLIAMENTARY REPORTS.” ———————___—_ =e : SICK. SN cS \ \Nres we ON! ONY AS SS re WHAT WE

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Jury 14, 1915. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 45 ita) hi ‘tl ne a || Anne y val hh - a ‘\ 27 —_— W \f WAR-TIME ECONOMIES. ‘*Eat two ounces less meat a day.’’—Daily Press. Conscientious Youth. ‘FATHER, YOU’VE GIVEN ME AN EIGHTH OF AN OUNCE TOO MUCH.” | ° " j z a ‘. |growing volume until the sound was; ‘“Garn,” said his left-hand neighbour, BREAKDOWNS AND REPAIRS. isomething beyond all knowledge—j|“ you ought ter be in a pramberlater, THE rain was being swept across|certainly beyond the knowledge of! you ought. Wot avocation might you the dyke-lined flats by a stiff easterly | Peter Simmonds. His small body|’ave been pursuing before you come breeze. Everything was cold, wet and | seemed to grow smaller and his eyes| out ’ere?” glutinous with mud. The loose planks | started out of his head like those of| ‘Shuvver,” replied Peter, scenting at the bottom of the trench squished |a captured rabbit. Presently, with a|sympathy. “I “drove a ‘General’ and sucked to the movement of im-|rush of air that, almost threw him | Barnes and Liverpool Street, that was patient feet. 'down, a large projectile passed just | my lay.” Peter Simmonds surveyed the scene | over him. | “An’ what brought you to this yer gloomily. One of a new draft, he was “Gawd! wot’s that?” he shouted, | state of military hinefficiency ?” unaccustomed to the local conditions |clawing at the man stationed on his| ‘ Well, yer see,” Peter hesitated and , and felt completely out of touch with | left. |sought for the truth, “I ’ad a bit of a his new profession; also he desired) ‘Common shell,’ was the reply.|skid at "Yde Park Corner and knocks speech, “Clearin’ away wire hintanglements|over a privit kerridge, knocks an old “ Bit off, I call it.” He turned to his | preparatory to the advance.” gent aht of it too—Karl o’ Something, companion, a lugubrious old timer who! Peter wilted still further at the word |’e was. The old blighter said I was chewed tobacco steadily and vouchsafed | “ advance.” | racing one of them Blue ’Ammersmiths, no reply. “When the hintanglements is cleared | and that puts the kybosh on my job of He tried again. ‘“Cawn’t stand this | away, as requisite, the Captain blows|motorin’ , . . Wasn’t ‘arf a skid, I blinkin’ rain. Wot the’ell are we waitin’ |’is little whistle and the Company | tell yer.” ‘ere for?” !advances hat the double—at least, them Peter’s reflections were interrupted The other man eyed him scornfully. | as ain’t ‘it does.” | by a renewal of the shell fire. A subal- “ Royal Artilleree, o’ course,” he replied;|_ This man’s loquacity was almost as/|tern came down the trench and spoke “dyer think we’re waitin’ for the|bad as the phlegmatic attitude of the|to the men. He spoke to Peter, but champagne ter come erlong ?” | other. | Peter didn’t héar; his mind was already As if to vindicate this statement,’ The shell fire slackened a little. | occupied. shrapnel began to explode over the, ‘Look ’ere,” cried Peter to no one; After what seemed an interminable German trenches some 400 yards in in particular, “I ain’t well, I ain’t. Ij} period there was a shrill blast of a advance. At first occasionally, and ought ter be in ’orspital, that’s where} whistle, followed a second later by then, when the range was secured, in I ought ter be.” j another from the opposite point of the

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46 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARE [JuLty 14, 1915. compass. Before the second whistle had ceased to sound, Peter’s genteel and intelligent friend had scrambled to the top of the trench ; the uncommuni- cative man-of-action on his right was even more alert. He was already on his feet and advancing out of Peter’s vision. Vaguely Peter felt that some- thing ought to be done. He clawed at the slimy bank in front of him, clutched a clump of twitch grass on the brow of the trench, and pulled him- selfup. Then his terrified brain ;——_ slackened from its objective, his fingers loosened themselves, and his inert, half-conscious body slid back into the trench. For some time he lay in the muddy water mentally dazed. Somewhere he could hear sounds; the crack of rifles, the incessant tap-tap-tap of machine guns, and the cecasional smack of a bullet into the soft earth above his head, At last he realised that the water that wag soaking him was extremely cold. He sat up, and, staggering to his feet, began to move along the trench. Around him was an indescrib- able nerve-racking clamour, but he: had the trench to himself, anyhow. One thing fixed itself irhis mind; whatever happened he was not going to leave the trench. He was quite resolved | on that point. Eventually he | came to a cross section which | abutted on to, and commanded, a road. This was the limit of | his perambulation. Here he decided to wait. His patience | was inexhaustible; besides, he was ill, very ill. He had barely settled down when the drone of a motor struck upon his ear. Gradually it became more dis- tinct; evidently it was approach- BOUND TO BE UNTIL ing him by the road. Peter} sampves. peered out cautiously. Yes, there it was—a ’bus undoubted- obvious reluctance through a sea of mud. Peter, fascinated, watched its pro- gress; watched'it struggle to within twenty yards of him and then break down. The driver jumped cff and _ tore open the bonnet. Two A.S.C. men joined him, and together they juggled feverishly with the mechanism. Noth- ing happened. Peter looked on with growing con- tempt. ‘“ Bloomin’ gardeners,” he muttered and became less cautious. Five uneventful minutes passed. Peter could stand it no _ longer. JUST HAVE A LOOK AT THIS LOT CF SUMMFR SUITING TOUCHED, AND WE CAN DO YOU ANY OF THESE AT BEFORE- THE-WAR PRICES, TEN PER FOR CASH INSTANT DELIVERY. 7 ’ : : How’s THAT FOR A DRESSY LOUNGE?” ‘‘ Dress.—Armlets only to be worn. ly—a motor-’bus, moving with |————__ Dropping his rifle he clambered on) quarter nut there?” he enquired briefly. to the road, and proceeded to wade The driver fetched it obediently. towards the ‘bus. A bullet touched the corner of the “Wot’s er matter?” he enquired. | up-flung bonnet and sang away into “Matter,” snarled the driver, “’ow space. Peter didn’t even look up. do I know ? Ain’t I trying to find out?; “Nah then!” he cried, “start Think I want to stay ’ere with ’alf a’ ’er up.” ton of ammernishion?” A stray bullet. The engine coughed, backfired and finally rattled into life. _tore through the mud at their feet. “One of them through the cases and! Peter, unchallenged, climbed into the up we goes,” cheerfully remarked one) driver's seat. of the A.S.C. men. “Up yer git!” he cried, “all sereno! —__ ,Where might yer want this ; * blawsted ammernishon took ? ’Ammersmith Broadway? Barnes? Mortlake? . . . Oh! ~ |*advanced firing line.’ Righto! \’Old tight.” _ They proceeded onwards at a speed which would have satis- fied a Surrey policeman. Half a mile brought them into what Peter described as “an ’ell of a beano.”’ | Here they halted to unload. |For the next half-hour a small pale man with gleaming eyes , /and a great deal of mud and grease on him might have been seen, knee-deep in mud, hauling recklessly at ammunition cases and cursing with tremendous gusto. | It was Private Peter Sim- 'monds come unexpectedly to his own. For the Dog Days. | Extract from Company , Orders :— | ‘* Pangbourne. | Dress.— Men are reminded that | correct walking-out dress is khaki | puttees and canes. No other dress is | to be worn except on parades.” CORNERED. “Now, Mr. ToMLINsON, YOUR TAILORING BUSINESS -IS | A gection leader of the Hert- TO MOVE SOON. WHEN THE RUSH COMES YOU WANT PREPARED. Now, SiR, WE CAN’T LEAVE THIS SFOT WE ARE RELIEVED. SO, WHILE WE ARE WAITING, ‘fordshire Special Constabulary |is even more solicitous for the ‘comfort of his men, for in an- THIS IS A LINE IN WHICH OUR FIRM CAN’T BE ' nouncing a special Sunday in- _spection he says :— _ Peter sidled round to get a better | ‘*normous masses of troops are getting view. | into position and assembling at Gargantuan Suddenly he gave a shout. The} the stores and ammunition needed for a driver dropped a spanner and _ then | general engagement.”"—Natal Advertiser. ‘swore as he groped in the mud. “What| This is the most interesting item of yer making that noise abart? startlin’) mews we have had since the capture of | people!” Point d’appui by the French. exclaimed Peter) ————— — “Gor blimey!” with emphasis, “if it ain’t 527—old | ** At 2.8) a.m. H.M. ships, together with the tows and the destroyers, proceeded to ‘Ay in’ iz? Ww ar al n’ Liz! ry er eightee +o. : Grunts Li Live lon ’ eighteen | Within some four miles of the coast, H.M.S. months, I did. Got me the sack, she Queen (flying Real-Admiral Thursby’s flag) did. ’Kre, let me come,” he shouldered | directing on a point about a mile north of his way in masterfully, “I’m acquainted | Gaba Pepe.”’—Daily Chronicle. with ’er, I am.” No doubt the Imitation - Admiral He began to overhaul the engine|Thursby_ displayed his flag elsewhere with expert fingers. “Got a three-|to mislead the enemy.

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Juty 14, 1915.] NEW LICHT ON NATIONAL FINANCE. | Now that War week-ends have had | to take the place of holidays I have} | come to expect Sinclair and the) | Reverend .Henry on the first Friday of |every month, but on this occasion | Sinclair was a day late. It happened to be his police week. Henry greeted him warmly. | “I am particularly glad to see you, | Sinclair,” he said. “We want to consult you,” said I, | “about finance. Henry and 1 have} | been. waiting for you to put us right. | We have had a touching faith in you, | | Sinclair. . We have always assumed | that: you were sure to know.” “Well, what’s the trouble?” de- manded ‘Sinclair. “It has now become clear,’’ Henry began to. expound, “that the national need -of the moment is_ individual economy. Of course we are keen to play up, but we are a little uncertain what steps to take.” “Why, use old golf balls,” said Sin- clair. | “ Twonder,” said the Reverend Henry, | ) turning to me, “if he is really going to | be much.use to us?” | “T doubt it,” said I. “But let mo! try.” | “Go ahead,” said Sinclair. “The question is,” I began, “ after | having got rid of the more glaring luxuries, how we can best conserve our national rescurces.”’ “Well, give up golf altogether.” Nevertheless I went oncalmly. “ By | what means,” I asked, “can we best | | stand by the Government in financing the War?” “TI should countermand the new mowing-machine and _ travel third - class,” said Sinclair. “There are two ways in which we can help. By buying the War Loan and by reduction of imports.”’ That made Sinclair sit up at last. | “Ah,” he said. ‘“ Imports ?” “Yes,” said I sternly. “It’s like this. If you buy a penny box of English matches. your penny goes to the chap who -made the matches, It stays in the country and helps to fight Germany. | Byt if you buy a piece of india-rubber With your penny it goes to some out- sider in the tropics (who grew the rubber) and is lost.” | “ That, of course, is perfectly simple,” the Reverend Henry broke in. ‘The real difficulty is with regard to the War Loan.” “Ah, yes,” said Sinclair. “I see now. You want to know whether you ought to preeeed by way of voucher or applicaticn.” e “I don’t feel as if you were going | D | i - a Wegpeits THE OLD FORMULA. Wife. *‘ Loox, GEORGE—MY NEW RESPIRATOR.”’ George (preoccupied). ‘OH! By Jove—yers! SviTs YoU DEVILISH WELL, MY DEAR.” to give us much light, Sinclair,” said) of War Loan. So we are no further Henry. ‘ The point is, the loan ought} on.” to be bought out of cash savings.” | “But he might not be the sort of “ Well, I’m not in this,” said Sinclair.| chap that would want to,” suggested “T haven't got any cash savings—far | Sinclair. from it.” “We can’t afford to build on that,” “That's just our difficulty,” said I.| said I. “Henry, for instance, has no cash] ‘Lhere was a long thoughtful pause. savings, but he has some investments. | Then Sinclair came out strong at last. Alkalis. I don’t think he knows what| ‘There is only one way out of it,” they are, but they are reputed to be|he said. ‘ We shall have to sell our worth some £600. He got-them from | stuff, Henry, to that beggar in the his aunt. Henry proposes to sell his | tropics who grows the rubber.” Alkalis and invest in War Loan.” “ Excellent,” said Sinclair, “Imight| «Those who have volunteered explanations even sell my Nitrates.” fof the real pronunciation of their names} “But don’t you see the flaw, Sin- | include Dean Inge, Lord Strachie, the Baroness clair?” said I. “Theco Alkalis not | Ory, Six. Chiowsa Monoy, and Mr. W. being cash savings, i Henry sells them that his name is pronounced just like the word some one has got to buy them.” ‘Waugham’ in ‘It is a Waugham day.’ "’ “And the fellow who buys them,” Daily Mail. Henry put in, “has to pay six hundred| We regret to learn that the eminent pounds for them (I shouldn't let them | dramatist pronounces his name to go for less) and is thereby prevented| rhyme with Warm. This will throw from buying—as he otherwise would|the Scotch completely off the track. have done—six hundred pounds’ worth | They will be calling him Maughrrrm. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | a hil

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48 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Juty 14, 1915. THE WATCH DOGS. XXII. My pear CHArtEs,—No sooner had I posted that letter to you about leave being cancelled than news was received that leave was restored. Half-an-hour later I was to be seen galloping for the nearest rail-head in the mess - cart, moving with all possible speed from the area in which minds are changed so suddenly ; in a few hours I was on the boat, catching my first delighted glimpse of that trim white island of ours, and agreeing with a weather- beaten Major, who had no doubt done his bit of grousing also in his time, that “it was worth going to a little trouble and expense to keep that intact.” On our return to the War, we found that developments unfavourable to our- selves had taken place in our absence. When men refer to the curse of drink, they usually exempt cider, but our un- doing was due to nothing else. Let us begin at the beginning. You will recollect that, arriving in France at the end of February and having rushed from place to place, trying to poke our nose into this battle, we eventually took over our private stretch of trench at the end of March. One’s conception of “the trenches” was then merely a dotted line; when we got to them we found this was just about correct. We knew we were in them, because we were so informed on the best authority, but there was little to show for it except here and there a large hole with an adequate water ration at the bottom of it, now and then a sandbag affording cover for the feet and ankles, and an oceas:onal piece of fascine, protecting one from the gaze of the curious if not from the bullet of the spitefully inclined. It only re- mained for us, we were humorously told, to improve.” This we set about to do, applying such principles of build- ing without materials as we could re- member from Robinson Crusoe and Barrie's Admirable Crichton; utilis- ing the services of our men, who, given picks and shovels, could turn the Earth inside out in a week, and having for inspiration the missiles of our interfer- ing friends the Germans, If you ever want to make bricks without straw (or with straw, for that matter), tell your labourers what you want and then set someone on to shoot at them from a distance of about ninety yards; you’ll soon have all the bricks you want. Eventually there appeared a breast- work lane which, allowing for the absence of lifts and the shortage of electric light, I may at least describe as eligible. Some great man of the engineering department inspected us and praised us. To the officers, who are brain-workers merely and gullible, this was a pleasure and an incentive, but with the men, who shift the soil and are unused to praise, it aroused suspicion. Had they been allowed to have their way, they would have done no more and left it at that; but our enthusiasm, being superior in that respect to their energy, was infinite. Safety being assured, comfort was attempted ; rows of model dwellings for the men, semi- detached villas for the officers and bold designs in variegated sandbags to catch the public eye, appeared on all sides. An enterprising Sergeant-Major’s bat-. man mobilized a large tub and took in washing, while I for my part got out the plans for a County Court, for the adjudication of disputes between out- going and incoming tenants consequent upon the system of battalion reliefs. It became the habit of all kind old gentlemen in red hats in or about the neighkourhcod to come along our line, in its less disturbed moments, and make extravagant remarks, whereat the men smiled cynically. I feel at times that if all officers were sent home and the whole affair was left to the men the War would be finished in twenty- four unbusinesslike but determined hours. At othertimes I incline to except the Platoon-Commanders. This is un- doubtedly a Platoon-Commander’s war. I am a Platoon-Commander myself. It was when our servants, having already the energy of the men, added to this our enthusiasm, that our ruin befell. The early régime of the single one-course meal a day, consisting of the mere ration, soon gave way to an elaborate menu; our servants even went to the Icngth of discovering a potato-bury in the support trenches and supplying us with pommes-de-terre nouvelles long before the p.t.n. season should properly begin. We took to sitting on real chairs, eating off real tables ; our captain, on special occasions, drank from a real tumbler. Once that desperate but loyal villain, Green, narrowly missed running into the arms of a military policeman as he escaped from those of an infuriated lady of seventy, whose cottage garden he had despoiled of its fairest roses. Don’t, however, underrate this cook of ours; he may have the looks and some of the gifts of a professional burglar, but he has also gentler arts. He has since fed, by invitation, off the generosity of that brave lady, and so, I am told, have we. We lacked only a cellar. The wine of the country is as disappointing as its coffee ; our fellows bethought them of cider, purchased a barrel, and, re- gardless of the pain and shame involved, trundled “same” in a perambulator to the trenches. The first cool draught was being drawn when the nicest and oldest nice old gentleman of all, in quite the reddest hat, blew in... No, there were no cross words or frowns even. In fact the tumbler was produced and Distinction drank our health. Later we were addressed, publicly, as follows:— The improve- ments you have made are excellent.” (There was no specific reference to the wine-list), ‘* We are sorry to part with you, even for a period while you carry on your good work elsewhere. The return to hard, or deficient, conditions will merely give you new scope; the dangers will inspire you to even greater success. If you find your new place a hot one, you will, we are sure, leave it as comfortable. . We lock forward to | seeing you, all of you” (this with a brave smile), “back again shortly.” That, Charles, is what comes to you for discovering perambulators in the least likely spots and adapting them to Bacchic purposes. Old Adam himself had no harsher words for apples in general than we had when we arrived at our new area and found that it consisted of a bare field, for the moment occupied by a thunderstorm. Have you ever coped with the problem of spending a night in a flooded meadow, endeavouring to find consolation in the fact that it is, at any rate, not so bad as it will be in a couple of hours’ time? There is nothing to do about it; you must just lie down and go to sleep. If you stay outside your valise you will catch a death of cold; if you get inside your valise a lot of companionable rain will get in with you. There is no solution ; you sit on your kit trying to make up your mind what to do; later you try to make up your mind as to what you are making up your mind about. The men, as usual, met the situation with irrelevant songs, and the next morning or the next one after that you wake up to find there are no such things as rain or colds. I like this view of the situation now, because the sun happens to be shining; at the time, however, I seem to remember that an air of disapproval prevailed. I have just been up to look at our new trench. My Company is in luck; of the two trenches it 1s to occupy to- morrow, one has ceased to exist to-day. This appears to be a habit, for when I suggest to the present occupier that it should be rebuilt, he begs to inform me that the trench has been rebuilt .. - twice daily for the last month or so. It looks as if I shall have something to tell you next time I write. Yours ever, Henry.

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d, to | ht id te or ur | he th ry he ns be ter 2 a » it to | uve at, for ast to self in ved it ent em ow, the las ne? you ep. will side rain no x to ater ; to hind the and ifter 2 no like use the aber iled. new : of to- day. en I at it 1 me O. hing nY. a _— Jury 14, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 49 = vi eee ° a. tac THE DANGERS OF PEACE WORK. Joan (to father, who has lost his head in dealing with refractory purchase). ‘‘Dap! Dap! SHauu I cur iz, on cALL Ma?” ' There were hats and caps and collars ; there were ancient } Ps . . , ‘ OUR JUMBLE SALE. | evening suits ; (To M. H.) ‘There were old perambulators and accordeons and flutes ; 7: = ° ad be . _ ; ieCVve > ¢ sty o ie Ne As the prospect of providing our efficient village nurse There were antiquated bicycles and stylographic pens With a reasonable salary had gone from bad to worse, And seltzogenes and curling-tongs, and cats and cocks and ‘Twas no wonder the Committee should incontinently hail hens. Mrs. Jones’s apt suggestion of a giant Jumble Sale. I saw an aged farmer’s wife, a most forbidding crone, In this world of mingled motives single-hearted folk are rare, (Carry off the works of Brownine and a battered gramo- As Mrs. Jones herself would be the foremost to declare, _ phone, | : . And, though she truly meant to lend her energetic aid, While “ station-master’s daughter for the sum of two- On the wardrobe of her husband she had planned a special | and-three ae raid. | Bought a pair of motor goggles and a pound of China tea. The date was fixed by Mrs. Jones, who wisely put it down | There was only one exhibit where the takings in the till - . A ‘ Iyace > “4 alhitw iJ - For a day on which her husband had arranged a trip to town | Presented the deplorable totality of nil; To attend the annual meeting of the Hatless Heretics It was in the boot department, where, in serried ranks And couldn't possibly get home till nearly half-past six. |, 2trayed, ' : ‘ , . _.. |The historic Jones collection was impressively displayed. Mr. Jones was very happy with his daughters and his wife, | ; ; eae . ‘ : And he led in his peculiar way a wholly blameless life ; |The prices weren't prohibitive: the highest figure there, He had played of late a leading part in beating up recruits, AS well as I remember, stood at 3s. 6d. the pair; But he had a perfect passion for accumulating boots. So it must have been the fearsome shapes the makers had designed He « =] ger] », as sé " j ‘ ile ) . ni » ° . e had boots described as “rational”; boots made of That had an adverse influence upon the rural mind. badger skin, ; Saal :,- | Nearly everything of value by the afternoon was sold And boots called “anatomical,” the toes of which curved in; | *@@TY yening . y She aivern rpdice™ He had boots to cure the various ills that torture human | 4"d the takings made a goodly pile of silver, “ bronze” and feet gold, In fact, he’d every kind of boot that wasn’t smart or neat So the Rector then gave notice that the undisposed-of stock * n . ‘ * ; Would be sold by public auction at half-past six o'clock. Well, the Sale went off quite swimmingly ; the people came Not long before the auction Mrs. Jones had come away, in crowds 'So you ’ll easily imagine how she felt the following day From every social stratum, the dandies and the dowds ; | On receiving by the carrier a monumental sack And Mrs. Jones’s happy thought, the free refreshment stall, | Containing all her husband’s boots—for Jones had bought Was patronised perhaps the most extensively of all. | them back.

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50 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. (Jury 14, 1915, Ys | 111 lle o ‘ 4 ' — AT A PROVINCIAL TERRITORIAL DINNER. Waitress to Chairman (the Mayor of the town). “THE CAPraIN THANKS YOU, SIz, FOR THE HONOUR, BUT HE SAYS HE'S TOO BAD A SPEAKER TO RESPOND TO THE TOAST.” Chairman, “OH, TELL HIM WE’RE ALL BAD SPEAKERS.” Waitress. “I've TOLD HIM THAT, SR.” {running perambulator drawn by along} So the Major fastened the guns to OUR VOLUNTEER CORPS. rope—they are still in the haystack|a strategic gatepost with a safety-pin. By A VILLAGER. stage. I intrude this trivial subject of |Then he spread us out along an adja- Our fine old warrior, Major Chrustie, | Sloshley only because we went out to|cent hedge and ditch, and ordered us of Tiffin Lodge, raised it, and is its fight them last Saturday afternoon.|to lie down and try to look as if we commandant. He is patriotic in heart, |The Major of course led us, and a brave | weren’t there. soul and cellar, and to hear him de-| show we made when we “debauched” | There we lay for what seemed a nounce the Huns saves fuel in cold| (I believe that is the correct military | week, rifles firmly grasped, straining at weather. He found an able secretary | term) on to the road to Wild Heath,! the leash. No word was uttered, except and recruiter in Green, our auctioneer, | where the battle was to take place when the nettles became intolerable, who, being an expert in pinching and | under the eye of a real Colonel of Terri-;and then only one. All this time appraising cattle, is just the man for |torials. His fife and bugle band kindly | Sloshley never came near, the pol- gauging human physique. He soon! played us part of the way; after that,|troons! At the long last, however, the roped in the early spring and late | those of us who could whistle whistled, | Colonel galloped back and shook our autumn of Larkfield manhood, a big | and to this stirring accompaniment we | Major heartily by the hand. platoon strong. He even got me,| completed the four-mile journey to the| ‘I congratulate you on your victory,” though my game leg won't go far side- | Heath like so many Alpine Chasseurs, | he said. ways, and I can never hope to form /all of us having, by advice, soaped our | “What victory Sir?” exclaimed the fours properly (on which I understand | socks and boraxed our toes for three) puzzled Major; “ we have never stirred victory in the field so much depends). | days beforehand. or seen a soul,”’ We have had a hard training, includ-| At the Heath we were met by the “Oh, that’s all right,” was the reply, ing a special sermon from our Vicar, | Colonel. “the battle was won by the superior and are already widely known as the| ‘This your infantry?” he inquired disposition of your machine-guns. Your Larktield Dare-Devils. of our Major. | opponents had placed theirs where they Now our contemptible | “Yes, Sir.” could only fire on themselves !”’ Sloshley, has a Volunteer Corps too, “Where are your machine guns?” So, exulting, we turned our faces and but it is nothing to ours. We have| “On this piece of paper, Sir.” 'marched back towards Larkfield, home tunics — they haven't; we march) “ Very good; post them in what you, and beauty. Only one man fell out smartly—they flop about anyhow; we| think is the most strategic position, (into a passing cart), having used the have been promoted to aim at the! and your troops too.”’ | wrong soap for his socks.

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rr .\ Se SAN SV SAN | | | Witt1am Senior. “THERE WILL BE NO WINTER CAMPAIGN. IN OCTOBER.” Wittiam Junior. “POOR OLD FATHER! HE SAYS THAT EVERY YEAR.” (In 1914 the Kaiser promised his troops that they should be ____ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Juty 14, 1915. as wes. Stes 4 Cine WW Z q xy Sag \ \FX re ; x BIN, Oy Wence RE) 9 We" ws = —~S S ‘SS > ah ) ys ’ s = \ - oe ‘ \ 4] % ‘ WSS \\ \ . AS \ XW NS : SS ~ WwW \ PRIDE BEFORE THE “FALL.” THE WAR WILL BE ‘‘back in the dear old Fatherland before the fall of the leaves.'”] OVER

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Juty 14, 191d.] quick eye penetrated the disguise. “T like not when a ’oman has a great peard,” he said. “I spy a great peard under her muffler.” The Welsh parson was not to be taken in by attempted fraud. Neither is Sir Tomas WHITTAKER. Under the muffler of National Registration Bill, described by WaLTER Lona (in moving Second Reading) as simply designed to clear the reproach that we have no record of the human resources of the country, he spied the peard of Conscription. Accordingly moved amendment which, if carried, would have effect of throwing out the Bill. In animated speech, cheered by PrinGe, ’Oe, OutTHwaltTE, K1nG and other States- men, he described the measure as designed to “hold a candle to the devil.” The MemBER FoR Sark, prag- matically practical, pointed out that such service would in normal cir- cumstances be unnecessary, and if tendered must prove ineffectual. Understood to be iight enough in surely melt. to reason. vance.” If instead of mingled he meter marking eighty-four in the shade. Hayes FisHer, taking kindly to the Treasury Bench from which he has long been exiled, dis- covered in WHITTAKER’S speech a violent and vi- tuperative attack upon the Prime Minister. Debate and division notable for leavening of minority with appreciable proportion of ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. (EXTRACTED FROM THE Diary oF Tosy, M.P.) House of Commons, Monday, July | { NOTHING DOING GOING TO START HIS APPRENTICE-HAND ‘‘Tr HE WAS AT TAKING THE the establishment of the Personage tradiction. referred to. In any case a candle would WHITTAKER not in the mood to listen Continued speech which Ivor Herserr happily described as clared that the Bill was “the first real}confirmed Mipieton’s description of “intemperance mingled with irrele- | had said mixed it would have vaguely sug- gested a new cooling cup, attractive on a sultry afternoon with the thermo- AP, WATIONAL €RECISTER Bilt Demonstration the more surprising| Ministerial Whip addressed to ‘since at Question time Prime Mrn-| wings of Ministerial army brought up ISTER emphatically declared that no| unusual muster. action as introduction of forced | amendment 5th.— When Sir Hugh Evans came|labour or conscription was contem- | against 30. across Falstaff disguised asa woman and | plated by the Government. attempting to escape from the house of |Second Reading, WALTER Lona en- one of the Merry Wives of Windsor his such In moving | SOMEONE IN, HE Prime MINISTER.”’ ‘larged upon and emphasised this con- | PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVART. WITH THE THIMBLES. WOULD NOT BEGIN WITH Mr. Long on the Regisiration Bill. preparing his mixture disclosed true) will be set up for the purpose. inwardness of the revolt. to the superfluous service proffered to | 53 both Upon the division rejected by 253 votes . be + . . Business done.— National Registra- | tion Bill House of Lords, Tuesday. 7 , y passed Second Reading. MIDLETON opened interesting debate when moving resolution enjoining the Government to take immediate P —_— ° | steps to reduce civil expenditure ofthe country. Showed that total amount of debt incurred, on assumption that War expenditure is closed by 3lst March, will be £1,292,000,000. On account of War pensions and interest on new debt there would be available a sum of £62,000,000 to meet a charge of £77,000,000. Only way to confront this grave position was, he urged, establishment of drastic economies in regard to finance. Twenty years ago the Civil Service Estimates amounted to £20,000,000. To-day they are thrice that sum. In absence of LEADER oF Hovusr, LANSDOWNE replied for Govern- ment. Gently hinted at possible inaccuracies and exaggerations in statement of his long-time colleague on other side of Table, but did not controvert main contention. Pro- mised to institute careful scrutiny. “Not able to state at this moment”’ WuiTTAKER in course of} what particular kind of machinery But it In addition | wouldn’t be a Royal Commission. Sr. ALpwyy, speaking with authority the devil as mentioned, he hotly de- | ofex-Chancellor of Exchequer, generally fruit of the Coalition.” Ay, there’s the rub. Debate, occasionally above eighty-four in the shade, lasted | fields through long summer night. heated | state of affairs. | view of future. HawpAne took gloomy Predicted that after the even | War the country will be poorer; many of commerce and _ industry, Strong | hitherto an exclusive possession, will be broken in upon. This sufficiently de- pressing. Gloom deepened when JEREMIAH LOREBURN followed. Silent for some time; but could not resist temptation to join in these Lamentations. CASSANDRA quite acheerful companion compared with him. What he saw in the future was universal bankruptcy of all the great nations. Finan- ex-Ministers. Honbnouse (big cial ruin would, he feared, and Ropertson both a Wz be the prelude to revo- spoke against the Bill. ' WwiZZ lution. TrREVELYAN and Lovucn SARA tees MIDLETON consented to voted with the minority, Mr. Snowden. “Go awar! Go awar! You mar Loox muccarr Substitute for “imme- which of course included rnoveH, sur I’M SURE YOU’RE A WOLF BENEATH YOUR S8KIN.”’ diate”’ the more blessed SNowpEN and Herr (‘Behind the speech of the Minister there was the idea of compulsion.”,—- WO rd “effectual” as GINNELL. Mr. Snowden.) qualifying “steps to reduce

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| laughter following on simple re- | mark 54 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARTL [Jury 14, 1915. expenditure.” Resolution, thus ren-| ‘Ah,’ he would say, looking round dered practically ineffective, agreed to. scornfully “I’m glad some people can Business done—In the Commons joke in these times.” (Never by any the Inrant SaMuEs, “called” a second possibility had Bromley joked at any time to the office of Postmaster-General, time, though he always implied that made statement, generally cheered, in- before the War he was a kind of LENno- dicating Post Office reforms and new cum-Brrre.u). ‘I fail to see the slight- departures. est. sign that the nation is taking House of Commons, Thursday.— the War in earnest. On my way Suddenly out of string of dull ques- here I counted eighty-four stalwart tions pleasing prospect presented it- men who ought to be in uniform. self. CntozzA Money was catechising Skulkers! That’s what ject of firms engaged in making just to get the War off my mind and munitions being deprived of services saw hundreds of men who ought to of their workmen. UnpeEr-Secretary be at the Front. I could not enjoy asserting that a particular firm was the performance for a moment. On exempt from recruiting, CHI0zzA suggested the rule should be made general. “One might,” said TENNANT, “spread oneself at large on that. I am sure,” he continued persua- sively, when. inexplicable burst of had subsided, “ my hon. friend does not desire me to do that. I am sure I should do it with great reluctance.” Pretty to see UNDER-SECRETARY draw himself up to full height, as if, after all, he might, if it were of real public service, at least endeavour to “spread himself at large.” Business done.—National Regis- ter Bill read a Third time amid mutual compliments lavished by those who had taken part in heated debate. A TIP FROM MR. WASON. C (Mr. CarHcart Wason asked the CHANCELLOR or ON the head for it. THE MAN IN EARNEST. AFTER lunch we gather in the tHe Excurequer whether he would reconsider his they are. | UnpER-SEcRETARY FOR War on sub-| Last night I looked in at the Colossus | He came in grim as usual, seated him- self, scowled on the frivolous, said “ Nothing in war-time, William,” to the waiter (though he never took anything in peace-time) and was about to dwell on the extraordinary slackness of the British public when Dobbins tackled him. “Look here, Bromley,” he said, ‘‘ we all think it would be better if you took the War a little more in earnest”’ (Bromley turned almost apoplectic). “According to your own account you are golfing, motoring and doing the halls as usual—a!l of course because you want to see if the nation is slacking. It’s not gocd enough. The nation doesn’t need your supervising eye. Come down with me and join the Specials. Or go with Harrop there and be a Red Cross orderly. You eculd serub floors if they wouldn’t trust you with anything more important. Or let Craven book you as taking ten thousand of the War Loan. He'd stand cigars round if you’d do that.” “Tt’s this frivolous spirit that will ruin England,” began. Brom- ley. _ ‘‘ Nobody is in earnest——-” “What you’ve got to bother about,” interrupted Craven, ‘is getting more earnestness into yourself, Bromley. You're only earnest about other people being in earnest. Be earnest enough to knock six months off your age and tell a good straightforward lie for your country. Why, under present circumstances GEORGE WASHINGTON would have lied and his father would have patted him Bromley rose to his feet and smoke-room for a peaceful half- decision with reference to vouchers of smaller amount gtrode out of the smoke-room. hour. we talk about the War, it is only to circulate the most pleasant! Saturday I was up at the golf links. rumours. Great moves by the X It seemed to be a case of pleasure as Army in the region of Y; huge usual. The club house was quite full, numbers of captured submarines in| though I will say that many of them the harbour of Z. (Even the Censor |had the grace to go out when I talked cannot object to that). And then | about the necessity for national earnest- cheered by this friendly meeting we go| ness. Then on Sunday the Portsmouth back to our labour of producing khaki | Road was literally crammed with motor- or war export articles, of pushing the! cars. When 1 think of the grim War, Loan, or of converting our plough- | determination of Germany I can see share stamping machines so that they|nothing but ruin bkefore us. Our may produce shell caps. |Government”” — and then Bromley We should be quite happy were it| would let himself go about the Govern- not for Bromley. Bromley belongs to|ment. Strange as it may seem we that peculiarly aggressive type of man!don’t like abuse of the Government, born early in 1874. The first six|though a year since we were saying months of 1874 were prolific in warriors. | things which must have made Lioyp It is most unfortunate for the country | GrorGr’s and Carson’s ears burn. that they are all now just over military} Every day the earnest wet-banket age, otherwise the Germans would never | would come, till at last the smoke-room stand a chance. Well, we are all quite| went on strike. We arranged a plan cheerful till Bromley enters. and waited expectantly for Bromley. gratuities.’’] It is a cheerful time. If tha five shillings for such purposes as ‘‘ administering Then Craven said a bitter thing: “T believe that man on the sly is a leader-writer.”’ Another Impending Apology. ‘*London, Friday.—The Central News is authorised to announce the engagement of the Hon. Ivy Gordon Lennox and the Marquis of Titchfield, son and heir of the Duke of Port- land. Lots of women give more thought to the selection of a gown than of a husband.” Glasgow Evening Times. Extract from a letter written by a Sergeant to The Southern Daily Echo:— ‘*LAST NIGHT’S METEOR. Srr,—It would be interesting to know if any of your readers noticed any special or un- common object passing through the heavens yesterday evening, in addition to myself.’ The gallant N.C.O. does not mention his corps; but we gather that he be- longs to the Sky Terriers.

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le er ito ly ng zh lie ler +E nd im nd 1S , is the ; of ort- the 7 a any un- ens ion be- Juty 14, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | Dick. ‘‘ComE on, Motire—I’LL BE A FRENCH SOLDIER, AND YOU CAN BE A GERMAN.” | Mollie. ‘‘No, THANK You. I’m GOING TO BE wHaT Dappy 1s—A GLASGOW AND SouTH-WESTERN HIGHLANDER.”’ spider, but it gave him a crick in the neck watching it, so he decided to VIII. stalk it. Jimmy says the-butcher’s boy wants} Bloodhoundsare good stalkers, Jimmy to buy his bloodhound, Faithful; he/| says, and it ’s because they keep one eye wants to have him stuffed. It was/|on the object. ° because Faithful had been studying} Jimmy says Faithful stalked the spiders and how they did it. | spider round and round, slowly at first, You see Jimmy’s bloodhound had| gradually working up to top speed been sleeping on the lawn, with all the ‘until he was doing well over thirty ; windows open because it was so hot, then he jambed on the brakes suddenly and when he went back to his kennel | and swung round on his own base so as |Jimmy says he found a spider had/to meet the spider coming the other | bunged up the entrance with a web. _| way. | Jimmy says Faithful sat and looked} The butcher's boy stopped to watch | at the web, and then pushing his head | Faithful. Jimmy says everyone knows | Into the middle waggled it about and|the butcher’s boy because ‘he has got | tried to look like a bluebottle. | red hair and wears a blue apron, and Jimmy says that when the spider saw | when he washes his face he looks like its suecess it could hardly believe any | the French flag, and them you have only of its eyes at first, and then it made a/ got to whistle the Marseillaise to get flying leap and landed with all its feet | him to fight you. ee en, rae meee says the spider ran along as hard as it| pursuing himself, he said he had seen could, and was just letting itself down | sheep like that, and it was because they hand over fist from the end of Faithful’s | had a worm in their heads. tail when Faithful caught sight of it. Faithful never caught the spider, and Jimmy says Faithful tried to wag’ it made him think more of spiders and the spider off, but it only made it swing their ways than ever; backwards and forwards, and it was all! manage to spin a web, no matter how Faithful could do to keep time with his | he wagged his tail. lead so as not to take his eye off it. Jimmy says Faithful tried to twirl the! very friendly with Faithful. . He al- ON THE SPY-TRAIL. he couldn’t!so as to leave Faithful behind. | ways greeted Jimmy's bloodhound every morning. He would say, “ Good gracious, there it is again,” or simply “Help!!"” One day Faithful was sitting on the wall looking into the road and wondering how he could make a web to catch German spies, when the butcher's boy stopped to admire him. He told Jimmy he had often seen people look like Faithful; it was when they wanted to sneeze and couldn’t. He then made a noise like a dog that has been bitten by a wasp, and Faithful fell off the wall into the road. Jimmy says the butcher’s boy had a basket fixed on to the front of a bicycle and he told Jimmy he was taking Mrs. Jones’s ribs, Mr. Brown's liver and chops, and Mr. Smith’s kidneys to them because they wanted them. Jimmy says when the butcher’s boy started to ride off Faithful kept jump- ing up to kiss him good-bye. Faithful wouldn't leaveoff, Jimmy says, although the butcher’s boy kept bending down to try to blow him away. It made the butcher’s boy laugh, and then he tried to ride as fast as he could Jimmy says he might have done it if he hadn't run into a boy wheeling a barrow. Jimmy says the butcher's boy got|Jimmy says everybody was surprised except Faithful, and he just selected

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. [Juty 14, 1915, Fair Stranger. “Ou, Str! Do stop My DOG FIGHTING!” Nervous Patriot. “ER—w-WE ARE ALL FIGHTERS TO-DAY, MADAM. (Makes off hurriedly). fs hn STamPa- i H-HE’sS GOT THE RIGHT SPIRIT. I-I MUST NOT INTERFERE” two chops and went and sat down| One of the old gentlemen showed under a bush on the far side of the road. | Jumbo how to side-step very quickly, Then Jimmy understood. Old Faithful | until the man standing behind told him had been on the spy trail all the time ; | not to. | The man standing behind the old he had spun a web and was quietly waiting for his prey. | gentleman was telling him how you go Jimmy says the name of the boy with home and put ice on your head, when a the wheelbarrow was Jumbo, because | motor-bicycle came round the corner when the butcher’s boy looked up from | and told everyone to move right away under the wheelbarrow he said, “Hello, | ever so far quickly. Jumbo! I see you.” | Jimmy says the motor managed to Jimmy says Jumbo had been trying dodge the barrow and would have to stand on his head in the barrow and | cleared the bicycle if it hadn’t skidded he was discontented with the butcher ;}on Mr. Brown’s liver. Jimmy says you boy’s red hair. He told him to go and | have to practise a lot before you can put his hair out and threw Mrs. Jones’s turn on people’s livers, and the man ribs at him. He then gave the basket | made an awful mess of it. a good kick and began to whistle the| Jimmy says that the motor-bicycle Marseillaise. \buzzed about like anything, and old Jimmy says several people stopped | Faithful came rushing out to have a to watch the fight, because it was dis- | look at his luck. graceful, they said. There weretwoold| Jimmy says they had to carry the gentlemen who had come out of their, motor-man into a house to put water gardens to say how disgraceful it was. on him to bring him round, and as they One of them showed the other a mark | were carrying him he suddenly opened on his knuckle where a boy had once | his eyes and said, “ Was giebt es ?”’ lost a tooth, and the other said he had! One of the old gentlemen got very once fought twenty rounds and his nose | excited at this, Jimmy says; he shouted never would be quite straight again. ‘out, “He’s sprekkening Dutch,” and he Jimmy says the butcher’s boy was a’ said to the motor-man, “ Sprekke Sie good fighter, he fought with his head, | Dutch,’’andthe motor-man said, “Nein,” and when he did it Jumbo used his; and went off again. weight to sit down. Jimmy says everyone was very pleased with everyone else, but no one praised Faithful; in fact no one said a word to Faithful except the butcher’s boy, and he only inquired how much it would cost to have him stuffed. Jimmy says it was enough to make a bloodhound give up the spy-trail. Humour at the Guildhall. “The Lorp Mayor introduces Lord KITCHENER.” ‘* Champion Whippet-Bull Terrier, kill any- thing living, fond of children and water, 85. ; good guard ; exchange chickens.”’ Feathered World. Like the Terriers of our Army, this dog seems to have very soldierly qualities. ‘‘The Turkish sniper is no match for the Kangaroo hooter.’’—Evening News. Zoologists are anxiously awaiting further details of this new and valuable species of Australian fauna. ‘‘The cricket professionals at Lord’s are making net horsebags for the use of the Army horses in their spare time.” Evening Standard. We understand that our cavalry chargers have fora long time enjoyed considerable leisure. ———

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915, Jury 14, 1915.) 7 ___ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 57 | | THE BLUEBOTTLE CAMPAIGN. = | f fp ; e | | 4 ‘a s | | | | | : | | : . . | | | | — | = | : | | ae: ( ZZ | —— Zs ' CME; | @ SP NG ss | . rm ( /} Se WY ps ig ss af = a / MW “ATES SY 7. SGA Ze) hi uised ) Pei - ; } rd to = : STINK and Ip: ould a says i yund Lord any- | j 8s. } ld. } dog } ies. - the ting uble are rmy sers ible so . | | Ill. Vicrory.

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| they always sink in better.” ee | England, London.” | PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVART. [Juny 14, 1915. | got a hundred.” housekeeping * money.’ | THE WAR-LOAN FORM. | “T wisn,” said Francesca, “ you would come out of your armchair and help me to fill up this form.” “Forms,” I said, “are the easiest things in the world. You've only got to ig “ Yes,” she said, “I know all you’re going to say about | the wonderful simplicity of forms, but they don’t strike | me in that way. I’ve never yet seen a form that didn’t paralyse me.” “Has this one paralysed you?” “ Absolutely.” “That ’s serious, ”T said. “ What’s it all about?” “T’m not sure. I think I did know once, but it’s all gone from me now. I think—mind you, I’m not certain —but I think it’s about the new War Loan.” “Oh,” I said, “ you’re going to be a capitalist, are you?” “Well, I’m going to invest some say'ngs. We're all | going to invest some savings. - Muriel and Nina and Alice | and Frederick. They ’ve all given notice to withdraw their money from the Post Office, and they ’re .going to put it in the War Loan. Muriel and Nina want bonds, but Alice and Frederick have decided for vouchers. They don’t know what vouchers are, but they ’re quite determined to have some or’ perish in the attempt. I’m doing mine through my bank.” “Bravo,” I said; “that’s the true spirit. are you going in Jor?” “Do you think a hundred would do ?”’ “Certainly,” I said. ‘A hundred would do if you’ve How much “Yes,” she said, “ it’ s there. I’ve saved it out of the “ That ’s thrift,” I said. many joints of beef and dishes of buttered eggs and “We're all'in the same box, anyhow.” - “ Yes, but we don’t all get the savings. You get those.” ““Of course I do. Who else should ‘ o” a “ All right,” I said, ‘I won’t press the matter. I’m all for it.” “Come along, then,” she said, “and tackle the form.” ‘Read it to me,” I said. ‘“ When things are read to me “ You give me less to eat by so ” Really, “Put down your paper, then, and listen.” “Don’t be too hard on me. Let me go on reading Mr. Betxoc on the Russians. It’s most comforting. Besides, I can always listen better when I’m reading a paper.” “It’s no good,” she said. ‘ Put it down.” “Very well,” I said. ‘“Ishall remember this. If aman isn't to be allowed to read his BELLOoc in peace and quiet | don’t know what things are coming to.” “They ’re coming to business—hard and solid business. Now listen: ‘To the Governor and Company of the Bank of England, London ’—that’s a good beginning, isn’t it ?’ 4 Splendid,” I said. “It simply couldn't be better. Here ’s a woman who has saved somebody else’s money, and one of the results'of her thrift is that she’s to be allowed | to write to the Governor and Company of the Bank of “ Aro they real people?” she said. “ Real people! The Governor and Company—teal people! Francesca, what do you mean ?”’ “Oh, I don’t know. I had an idea all that sort of thing was done by machinery now.” “ Don’t be frivolous,” I said. “If you were to meet the Governor of the Bank of England in Threadneedle Street and run a pin into him, he’d jolly soon show you whether he was machinery or not.” “T should never dream of doing such a thing. I've been | | hold of it. much too well brought up. Still, it would be rather nice, too. A pin into the Governor of the Bank of England— but no, it’s impossible.” “Don’t dwell on it, Francesca, or itll get the better of you. Go on reading from the form.” “Lend me your ears, then. ‘Blank hereby request you to allot to blank a in brackets pound-mark blank comma say blank pounds of the above-mentioned Loan comma in terms of the Prospectus of the 21st June 1915 semi-colon and blank hereby engage on “Stop, stop!” I cried, “ for Heaven's sake, stop ! “Why interrupt me?” she said. _“I was just getting into my stride.” “Your stride’s too much for me,” I said. “Oh, haven’t you understcod? I’m so sorry. out again: ‘ Blank hereby request ycu _ “Stop it, I say.” “Oh, very well, then,” she said. “I thought men could always understand that sort of thing. That’s what they ’re here for, isn’t it ?” s Hand me the form,’ A, B, C.” “ Of course it is,’’ she said, “ when a financial genius gets But I’m only a poor woman, and anything like a rule of three sum or a calculation of per cents always reduces me to pulp.:- Still, I should like to help just a little. I'll dip your pen in the ink—oh! what a naughty blot! Mop it up quick. The Governor and Company can’t bear blots. ‘Name of Applicant in full.” Down it goes: Francesca Carlyon. Doesn't it look grand? ‘State Title if any.’ You can say it was an oversight in the last Birthday List. Why should they want to know that? Probably the Governor hasn’t got a title himself ifthe truth were known. Anyhow, it’s a mere bit of swank. There, you ’ve done it. Clever man. How shall I deal with it now?” “Tt only wants your signature.” ; “ Well, let. it want for an hour or two. humour it too much all at once.” “And then,” I said, “ you can take it to your Bank- manager with five pounds and the thing ’s done.” “ Actually done ?” “ Yes, for the moment.” “Oh,” she said, “ the moment ’s good enough for me.’ R. C. L. ” I'll read — o I said firmly. “It’s as simple as I’m not going to V.M.B. (“ What did you do, Daddy, in the Great War ?”— “Recruiting Poster). Years on, when Winter waxes murk and stormy, And nightly by the cheerful hearth we meet, My wife (whoever that may be) before me, My offspring romping round their father’s feet, Thus, Sirs, shall I reply should they demand The tale of how J helped my Motherland :— “ While fitter men for England, dears, were fighting, I bared my arms and slaved for her like—well, Like billy-oh ; Left, so to speak, the poet’s lyre (or “ shell ”)— And all my strength of muscle and of mind Devoted to the high-explosive kind. “ These hands shall witness how I did my duty ; Though pink again is every battered nail, Though healed the blisters once that marred their beauty, Not all the soaps that e’er were put on sale, Not all the waters of our Island seas Could rob my palms of their callosities.”

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| le cel we rw Ww cr = “y ww ee Juty 14, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 59 Wy \ \ ; ~ a WASE ‘ > SS ~ ; 5 D 4ungour ow ” FOR THE BRAKE? ve \ HUMOURS OF A REMOUNT DEPOT. Sergeant (to recruit, lately a motor mechanic). “Now THEN, WHAT FOR ARE YOU FUMBLIN’ AT THE BACK OF YER SADDLE? LOOKING OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. (By Mr. Punch’s Staff of Learned Clerks.) Mr. B. Paut Neuman is one of the exiguous group of persons who have reason for gratitude towards WILLIAM THE FRIGHTFUL. Because if it had not been for the War I fail to see how any suitable end could ever have been reached in Oliver (SmirH, ELpER), while, as things are, the end, if perhaps a little mechanical and arbitrary, is at least appropriate. Oliver might be called a study in paternity. Perhaps you recall how Mr. Neuman has already done well with the same theme; it is one that seems a deserved favourite ef his. Oliver is the story of a weak man, first in his relations with his father, then with his own son. The thing is remarkably well done, a close and unsparing treat- ment of a subject by no means easy. The hard undemon- strative father, and the nervous boy who never quite understands him, have, of course, appeared before in fiction ; where the present story breaks new ground is in showing the morbid weakling, himself a parent, haunted still by his old fears, and, to his bewildered and almost worshipping delight, finding in his own son the strong dependable personality that he himself could never attain. The scenes between grown-up Oliver and Roland seem to me both sincere and profoundly moving. I1t may possibly be objected by the severe that there is some excess of senti- ment, especially in the end. But life is always sentimental to persons like Oliver. Whether you will believe in him, SE suddenly transformed into a motor-transport officer, is another matter. You will at least appreciate a great piece of writing in the account of his dash through an enemy patrol on his way to what he thought would be his boy’s death- bed; young Roland, also serving, having been reported dangerously wounded. And after all it was Oliver who died in hisson’s arms. True or nct, this makes a fine end to an original and successful story. Mr. Sitpney Low, a man of parts in matters of high politics, provides us in The Spirit of the Allied Nations (Buack) with a convenient little tabloid of comment and instruction on the salient forces at work in France, in Russia, in Belgium, in Serbia, in Japan and in the British Empire. (This was before Italy came in). Each nation is allotted its own expert, and the thing seems to be quite well done up to the convenient standard of the extension lecturer. One can’t attempt to summarise a summary of such vast issues, but I think that the normal reader will get most joy from the account of little Serbia, who so tactfully obliged the Austrians, when setting out on their punitive expedition, by themselves doing the punishing, smashing methodically first the Austrian’s right, then the centre, and finally the left, with losses to the enemy of 38,000 dead, 92,000 wounded, and 62,000 prisoners. It is not a story that anybody in later ages will find easy to believe... . And that speech of the old King to his soldiers goes far to blot out a terrible memory. It is also good to learn of the

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60 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Juny 14, 1915.

splendid comradeship in their army, officers summoning their men to fight, not as men but as brothers. Yes, cer- tainly, altogether a fine little ally to have.

If you do not take the precaution to read Mr. MARMADUKE PickTHALL’s preface to Tales from Five Chimneys (M1Lus AND Boon) the title may not unnaturally bewilder you. The simple explanation is that Mr. PickrHau., having written a number of stories entirely unconnected with each other, was at a loss for a generic name, and so called them after the house whence they were indited. Personally, I think he might have done better, especially as the tales themselves are as good of their kind as I remember to have met in a great while. There is in all a vigorous and uncon- ventional air of honesty about people and events that is excellently refreshing. For an instance I might refer you

to one called “The Prude and the Wanton,” an exquisitely human study of a simple-minded ; — ee a old governess summoned to give | - \, evidence in the divorce case of a, 1 pupil whom she loved and trusted. |

It is possible that these stories have appeared before in magazine form, but I think it unlikely; they certainly bear no evidence: of the manipulation that secures a happy ending and the subscrip- tions of a serial public. Of a book of this kind, where there is no one theme to describe, I can’ only tell you that I found the: whole of unusual quality, and leave you to select your own favourites. But, in case you should = not want to read the volume through, I might indicate (beside | the story mentioned above, which should certainly not be missed) two others, “ Love’s Convert,” a pleasant little comedy, and “ Virgin | .and Martyr,” a piece of irony quite horribly effective. They are characteristic examples from a collection that I have greatly en- joyed.

| Basy ! One can at least say of The Jealous Goddess (LANE) that it begins unconventionally. A hero who in an ineflicient attempt to rescue a young woman from some roughs gets so battered by them that he has to be rescued himself by the fair one, and, on being assisted to her studio, promptly faints on the mat, certainly breaks new ground. Of course, though, for all this transposition of the ordinary gambit, I couldn’t be greatly surprised when Nora and Tommy fell each into the other’s arms. But Miss Mapce Mears had several more unconventionalities up her sleeve. For one thing, the relations between Tommy and his shiftless but amiable father are new. So is the treatment by Tommy and Nora of their offspring, with whom they were so frankly bored that they very gladly accepted the offer of adoption made by a childless actress, who is not only the kindest but much the best drawn character in the book. Most startling novelty perhaps of all is that Tommy, though a dramatist, is left at the end without an income of five figures. He must, I think, be almost the sole example of this in fiction. Anyhow, Miss Mrars—whose name is new to me—seems a writer with a pleasant knack of leaving the trodden paths, and this may carry her far. Her book was quite obviously written before last July; the

Sle? Ss A — Auntie (having tried every other distraction), ‘‘ Loox, SEE THE PRETTY ZEPPELINS!"’

life it reflects is already as extinct as the dodo. But for this very reason I shall the more look forward to her next. I found The Record of Nicholas Freydon: an Auto- biography (ConsTABLE) a very pleasant literary puzzle. The editor's prefatory note, modestly assuring me that any defects were his own, any virtues his friend’s, of course made me assume a fake in the consecrated manner of these things; and that impression was not removed by “F’reydon’s” own introduction. But when he charmingly set down the memories of his childhood, of his father and of their voyage out from England to Australia, I said to myself, “ But this reads true.” And yet again I couldn’t quite see in their life in the derelict barque Livorno on a deserted shore any- thing but a fancy; the convent orphanage did not convince me (the avarice of the sisters I could believe but not their

~~; cruelty and indifference) ; and most ’) : ) ~ | of all that Pickwickian person Per- ZA Je, \kins, the “Omnigerentual and a _4° . \Omniferacious agent” of Dursley, Mo — seemed so obviously a creation, and 'a very creditabie one at that. Also > “Freydon”’ here begins to recon- struct alleged happenings and conversations with altogether too much detail. Several times again before the end I found myself . |leaning towards the theory of ‘authenticity. Authentic with ob- ~=2:- | vious glosses is probably the truth; |. <2 | anyhow it will serve the timid critic ‘for a compromise. The man who | wrote this record had seen tragic |things. One shining quality is a = __ love of England, of the beauty and ' the glory of her, a love that holds her exiled sons with silken cords of loyalty and tenderness and draws - ‘them back to her as to home in ~==—= the hour of their peace or of her = | trial. Certainly “ F'reydon’s” editor | (or creator) must be congratulated.

When a novel is called by . ____________'some such title as Plain Jill (CHapMAN AND Hatz), it is the new War Loan to a gooseberry that the heroine, if not strictly beautiful, is to be mightily attractive. But Jill, bless her, in possessing remarkable and distinctly attractive eyes, a lovable smile, extremely fine teeth and a healthy complexion, got rather more compensations for her bluntish nose and nondescript chin than I expected. Indeed her “plainness” did not prevent her from perforating the hearts of an Earl and an American millionaire. Possibly Jill will be a little too successful and perfect for everyone’s taste, but all the same she is a delightful creation, and if you can bear a simple love-story, with only a faint dash of psychical interest thrown in, I recommend Mrs. PENDERED’s book to your notice. And I will add that, in contrast to the fictional duchesses I have lately been compelled to meet, the Duchess of Maccleugh is quite reasonably like a human being.

‘‘He took a First Class in Classical Moderations in 1853 and a First in Litaniores Humere in 1855.'’—Morning Post. The invention of new Schools goes on apace. Only a few days ago The Pall Mall Gazette published an Honours List of the Tricycle Tripos at Cambridge.

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CO OT OO SSD ti a a OS SO Juty 21, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 61 CHARIVARIA. From The Daily Mail:—“ The Daily Mail suggested on Saturday that General Botha might be called in to our aid in Europe. The Government have speedily taken up the suggestion and Lord Kitchener has telegraphed to General Botha: ‘We shall warmly welcome you and the South Africans who can come over to join us.’”” This is interesting as showing that the Government now realises that a suggestion from certain quarters must be treated as a command. Dr. Sven Hepry, who was present at the fall of Lemberg, states that the Russians did not take so much as a pin before they left the city. The Germans have always declared the Russians to be ignorant of military prin- ciples, and this, they say, just proves it. The Tiigliche Rundschau, which is not much given to compliments, describes our Wryston as “a skilful but characterless peacock.” The ex-First Lorp is said to have been pleased at being likened to this beautiful bird, and has come to the conclusion that the writer must have seen him one day in his little Homburg hat. i A young aviator, writing home in a hurry, says: “ From where I am it takes about, forty minuets to get to the| German lines.” For ourselves | —not being in full War training—we always get a little tired after the thirtieth minuet. we We hear that one result of possible further raids by Zeppelins is a boom in the fancy pyjama trade in London. es & Meanwhile, as we expected, anti-| lis about to have his tenth trial. poison masks ofa less terrifying pattern are making their appearance, and we hear of one which has real fur eye-brows, "ERE W The Other. **Wuy ENJOY YERSELF?” It may not be generally known that cannibals are advised by their medicine men never to touch Germans, as it has been ascertained that they nearly always contain a certain amount of Prussic acid! ne The books of the New English Art Club show, says The Weekly Dispatch, that people are still buying pictures in the same quantities, but they are buy- ing smaller ones. Indeed, an artist friend of ours, who painted a canvas 14ft. x 22ft., declares that he had several offers for half-a-dozen square inches of it. | ‘THE TAKING OF THE HARICOT | GREAT EXPLOIT OF THE FRENCH” | Observer. 'Yet our Allies are more accustomed to give beans than to take them. The Pessimist (morbidly), “I TELL YER WOT IT Is. AR’S GOIN’ TO LAST FIVE YEARS.” NOT MAKE IT FIFTY, AND THOROUGHLY however hard up the Germans may be for cotton, Wolff’s Agency will always be able to supply them with yarns. Consistency. A Press notice informs us that so marked has been the success of “ The Man who Stayed at Home” that Mr. Dennis Eapre has given up his usual holiday and will continue to appear in the title rdle throughout the summer. ‘Sir Albert Spicer will to-day present to Lord Haldane the address signed by about 00 Liberal members of Parliament.”’ Eastern Daily Press. On this occasion Mr. Lioyp GrorGE has not issued any contradiction. ‘*In America it is true that our general rules of evidence and principles of law are mainly followed, and there is very little dan- ~~~) ger of an innocent defendant being acquitted.’’—The Globe. We suppose it is by way of compensation that so many guilty defendants are allowed to escape conviction. ‘*The Listowel R. D. Council and Guardians have passed a resolution stating that they considered the age limit a great hindrance to enlist- ment, as the fighting element was not properly matured in Irishmen until their 50th year.’’ Limerick Chronicle. This phenomenon is not con- fined to Ireland. In this country also there are thou- }sands of young men who are ‘only waiting until their fight- ing spirit is properly matured. THIs ‘*Lord Nunburnholme states that The ignorance of concerning military matters is really astounding. A dear old lady who was asked the other day by her little boy what sand-bags were said she thought they were the trousers that the soldiers wore in the Dunes. — Mr. Harry Tuaw, it is announced, | We caution Mr. TuHaw, however, that if he thinks that at such a time we are going | ~—- the blowing of the alarm ‘ buzzers’ some persons |is not of necessity an indication of danger, and there is no urgent negd why people should leave their moses in order to seek security in the country.’’—Hull Daily Mail. While he was about it his lordship might have told people what to do with Moses when the lights go out. ‘* BRITISH ARMY ATTACKS OFFICIAL.”’ ** Evening Standard”’ Poster. and another with a bewitching smile| to take any interest in this feat he will i ine rs cleverly painted on it. The Editor of The Outfitter is respon- | sible for the alarmist statement that shirts and neckties will shortly be advanced in price, and the only thing likely to remain at the old price is the linen collar. A well-known nut ex- presses the hope that Lord FisHer’s Inventions Bureau will immediately work out a satisfactory contrivance for | keeping the collar in position when there is no shirt to fix it to. | Very likely the official deserved it, | but nevertheless we doubt the state- ment, which is not in accordance with the traditions of the British Army. | be bitterly disillusioned. It is only right that Cabinet Ministers | ‘should set an example in economy. On French Flag Day, The Express | l¢alle x. 66 iac er ’ 20Tra . tells us, “‘ Miss Megan Lloyd George, | ‘* Since June 29 the total amount of Turkish | the younger daughter of the Minister arms an dammunition collected is 516 rifles, jof Munitions, was very successful in| 51 bayonets, 200 sets of equipment, 126,400 Downing Street, although she was| rounds of ammunition, 100 bombs.” _ unable to sell a flag to her father, who} , Daily Chronicle. already had one.” ‘‘Twenty minutes later our field batteries : a ‘ opened up with shrapnel against the enemy’s wire, which was cust most effectively.”” _ Daily Mail. High Expletives. | we ; | A Silly Ass writes to point out that, | VOL. CXL X. D

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62 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Juny 21, 1915. MORE SORROWS OF THE SULTAN. SomETIMEs, when most I realise the blunder That fixed the Faithful in their present plight, I put myself the question, why in thunder I joined this rotten fight. Why for a Wmu1am’s beaux yeux did I sally Forth to a quest that wasn’t Turkey’s show ? What am I doing in this noisome galley ?— That ’s what I want to know. I saw which side my bread was moist with butter ; Noticed the obverse (which I chose) was dry ; Why then did I take on this silly flutter? I can’t imagine why. I knew our: priceless gift for double-dealing ; I knew the wisdom which was once Stamboul’s; Yet—and the sore place doesnt look like healing— I fell between two stools. For, if we lose—I bid good-bye to Europe, Or win—to Liberty farewell I say; In any case I entertain a poor hope Of making this thing pay. Meanwhile, when Christian Bosch meets Christian Briton, | Then is the tug of war for my poor Turks, Who fight the latter, but would love to sit on WILLIAM and all his works. Slaves of that Lord, by alien drivers mastered— Forward or backward still one fate they find, For either by the foe in front they ’re plastered Or by the Hun behind! This comes of following Enver (who’s a heretic) ; But why I did it, when I knew quite well The moment for inaction—to the very tick— Allah alone can tell! O. S. MY CONSOL. He came to me many years ago in my capacity as a residuary legatee, since when we have been very happy together, Clarence (my Consol) and I. I have watched over his early training and education, and have done my best to influence him for good and to guide his tastes in the right direction, as every conscientious guardian should. The days of his youth were passed in a cash-box, which reposed in my Jacobean roll-top desk, and every Saturday night I would take him out—out of his box, I mean—and talk to him like a—like a residuary legatee. But the time came when I judged it best to send him away. He was growing up, and there was his future to consider. For long I hesitated; but I finally made up my mind that he was best fitted to occupy a position in a bank, and in due course, after he had successfully passed the preliminary examination, I entered Clarence at Cox and Co.’s. Never shall I forget the day upon which I handed him over to their care. ‘ Good-bye, Clarence,” I said, with a lump in my throat; “ good-bye! I’ve done the best I can for you. I hope you’ll be industrious and grow up to be a great and good Consol, and a credit to our National Debt. I hope——” Here I burst into tears, and they led me gently out. Clarence settled down comfortably and happily. Cox's wrote to me from time to time to say that he was still there and giving no trouble, and even to this day I regularly hear from Clarence himself four times a year—on January 5th (to wish me a prosperous New Year), on April 5th (opening of the Quarter Sessions), on July 5th (anniversary of the French occupation of Algiers, 1830), and October 5th (high water at London Bridge 10.42 a.m.). But now I hear that there is an opportunity for him to be taken over by the Government, and I am torn between affection and duty. For, though he is no longer under my roof, he is still under my residuary legateeship, and my consent is necessary before this proposed change in his condition can be effected. Clarence himself has no parti- cular views of his own on the matter. He leaves it entirely to me, and I confess that I scarcely feel equal to the responsibility of making this momentous decision for him. I should hate to lose Clarence. We have been in touch so long, have faced so many ups and downs together, that I feel that we should not be parted at this time of crisis in the nation’s destiny. I remember how at one period Clarence went through a dreadful time. So bad was he that The Times published daily bulletins about him. ‘Consols [and by Consols you must understand Clarence] developed a sudden weak- ness . . . Consols improved slightly . . . Consols dropped away throughout the day ... Consols rallied and fell back again, closing very weak.’”’ One day Clarence even sagged. It was dreadful. I passed a sleepless afternoon. I pictured the Commissioners of the National Debt sitting round poor Clarence, watching with grave faces for him to sag his last. I thought of wiring to them, imploring them to administer oxygen at my expense. And then—joy! I read on an Evening News placard, “Sharp Recovery of Consols,” and 1 knew then that Clarence was spared to me. And now I am faced with the problem—shall Clarence remain the bright, happy, unsophisticated Consol he always was, or be taken over by the Government and turned into a War Loan? Personally, I feel that he will do best in the shape in which Nature designed him. As a Consol, he has an ancestry, and I, as his guardian, naturally take a fair measure of pride in the fact, for he forms part and parcel of our world-famous British Consti- tution. How often have I thought in the past of that glorious moment when I may some day meet the CHan- CELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER at a Guildhall banquet, and we can fall into an intimate discussion on Clarence and his family! With what pride I shall deftly introduce Clarence into the conversation! “Talking about National finance . . . May I| trouble you to pass the chutney? ... Thanks very much . . . Talking about National finance, Mr. McKenna, I am sure you will be glad to hear that I take an active personal interest in the welfare of a bright and promising young Consol. Tell me, as man to man, what are the prospects for next quarter’s dividend? I suppose it will be declared as usual, or do you think of allocating it to the reserve?” On the other hand Cox’s say that as a War Loan Clarence ought to make his mark in the world; that in ten years or, at the most, thirty, he will be able to retire at his par value paid in solid gold. But, be that as it may, I feel that I can never take the same proprietary interest in Clarence in this new guise. There will be no pleasure when I meet Mr. McKenna in telling him that I have at heart the welfare of a promising and democratic young Democratic! That’s it! Why, everybody holds War Loan. The cook, the housemaid, the scullery- maid—all are investors. I’ve even bought a voucher for the cat. No, no, Clarence, my first and only residuary legacy, you shall ever remain a fine old Conservative Consol. ‘*BARKING V.C.’’—Evening Standard. One of the bull-dog breed.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Juny 21, 1915. THE OLD MAN OF THE SEA. Sixsap THe Karser. “THIS SUBMARINE BUSINESS IS GOING TO GET ME INTO TROUBLE | WITH AMERICA; BUT WHAT CAN AN ALL-POWERFUL DO WITH A THING LIKE THIS | ON HIS BACK?”

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JULY 41, d. JN v T “ 4 N pt AWN Atul. 5) Juny 21, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI 6 38 N S ‘y \ | Ny N NN NN \ ey) | MRY (hh a hee ST 4 POH CEN gine) SOMEWHERE IN FRANCE. Subaltern. “‘DoNNEZ-MOI, S’IL VOUS PLAIT, DU PAIN, DE LA BEURRE ET DE LA FROMAGE, POUR LA MESSE.” Madame. “Pour LA MESSE! Mon DIEU, QUELLE RELIGION!” surely be able to enlist the philatelist | with flags and collecting boxes. So let HOW TO MAKE A BOOM IN VOUCHERS. and make him do his bit. It is only |us have a Voucher Day, when no self- Dear Mr. Puncu,—As an inventor necessary to keep on producing a rapid | respecting citizen will be able to walk who has been shamefully neglected by this short-sighted Government (for in | : ad | any time of crisis I am always full of fruitful suggestion ; that is my tempera- ment), I trust you will allow me space to offer a few notions. I have been turning my attention to the Post Office Depart- ment of the War Loan. It is just the sort of case where the Government requires shaking up by people of imagination. One of my ideas is the institution of Penny-in-the-Slot Machines for the sale of vouchers at every street corner, where any passer-by (with sixty pennies in his pocket) would find them readily ac- cessible. The idea might be developed by introducing Voucher - in - the - Slot Machines, from which, by the insertion of a sufficient number of vouchers, a Bond could be obtained. Then we must have Adhesive Vouchers, for use on picture-postcards. These should be endorsed “A Present from Pitlochry” (or whatever was the place of issue), and might even be set off by small photographic views. By going a short step further we should succession of new voucher forms, differ- ing in colour, texture and shape, or containing ingenious printers’ errors, making at the same time all old issues obsolete, and it is certain that some- one will begin to collect them. With intelligent encouragement from the Treasury—in the form of special albums —it might grow into a big thing in time. If only we could get them loved for their own sake it would be a great point. And we want to stir up rivalry. If it once became the thing, for instance, to paper the drawing-room with vouchers (as a memento of the Great War), or even to use them for newspaper wrappers, we should have made a great advance. We need more of the fine spirit of the Australian millionaires of whom one used to read, who would burn fivers against each other by way of competition. Then we must have a Day. Every one is agreed that we do not have} nearly enough Days. Even now as | much as a week elapses sometimes with- | out our being pursued by fair women | the streets in peace without a voucher in his button-hole and two in his hat. It is simply a question of getting to work on the right lines. Iam, Yours faithfully, THE INVENTOR AT LARGE. ‘* The distance from Constantinople to Kabul as the crow flies is a little over 500 miles.’’ Star. From other estimates of the distance we gather that the crow after he had done flying would have to walk about two thousand miles more. From a translation of a decree issued by the German Government modifying the German list of contraband :— ‘« The following articles and materials suit- able for warlike as well as for peaceful purposes, coming under the designation of conditional contraband, shall be considered as contraband of war :— Harness and Soldiery.’’ London Chamber of Commerce Journal. We understand that the Allied Powers, in spite of this announcement, have not altered their plans for an extensive im- portation of soldiers into Germany.

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66 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Juny 21, 1915. THE OPTIMIST. «“Wuat | stand on,” said Mr. Brad- ‘human, took its place. Automatically the smile faded and | something older, but infinitely more | It almost Maria was a trump, and, as she said, what was there to smile at ? No more false gaiety, no more pretence. With shaw with a smile that was too radiant seemed as if the weight of that porten-|a lighter heart and an unsmiling face to be convincing, “is the power 8 ‘tous smile was unbearable. To smile he ran up the steps of his house and But Mrs. Bradshaw had walked into and pass it on had seemed such an easy flung the door wide open, and just the kitchen and closed the door. In a minute or two her head emerged, and Mr. Bradshaw snatched at it (so to| on ? speak) as his only chance of getting his remarks finished. “You've only got to look at it the right way and it will be all right. That is the idea. Any dead fish can float with the current, but it takes a live fish to swim up-stream.” Mrs. Bradshaw’s eyes flashed contempt. ‘Thank you,” she said curtly. ‘“ But I’ll have you to understand that I’m not a dead fish.” She was trembling with an emotion on the verge of tears. ‘I know the bacon was overdone—it doesn’t take that smile of yours to teach me how to cook bacon. The child cried all night, and I have to be on my feet all day’ It’s not what you stand on, it’s what J stand on.” “Ah!” said Mr. Bradshaw, with that broad inhuman smile. “ Tt seems tiring, that’s all. Stand as I do,” he hesitated, “ as I try to do, on JosHuaA and CALEs. Ten of them, you know, Maria, came back with hard-luck stories, but Josaua and CaLeB brought grapes. -That’s you and I in a nutshell.” | ¢ “ JosHua and CaLes, nor you | neither, George, hadn’t been up | all night with a teething baby— that would teach you what you stood on.” “TI do beg of you, Maria, to be an optimist,” said Mr. Bradshaw earnestly, ignoring the personal question. ‘ It would alter your views of life.” “Jt wouldn’t alter my views of a screaming baby,” said Mrs. Bradshaw obstinately. “ It is so simple,” said her husband hurriedly, as he saw the kitchen door opening to swallow her up. “ You only have to keep smiling in the face of trouble, and pass the smile along— and how can I pass it along when there ’s no one to get it?” “No one wants it,” said Mrs. Brad- shaw with temper. ‘“ Keep it to your- self, and much good may it do you. I LIKE never saw a smile that was worth the | rocker on a cradle yet; and I haven't time to argue. Go and be an optimist by yourself!” The kitchen door closed finally and Mr. Bradshaw was left outside. way of eluding trouble; but what happened when you couldn’t pass it The club offered no advice on! that subject. And under Mr. Bradshaw’s thatch of stiff fair hair a thought had been | 'slowly growing and maturing, which ‘could not be disregarded any longer. It was there before him at the office- TO SERVE THE KING?”’ I suPPOSE AS MUCH stool; it looked at him out of Maria’s tired blue eyes; it stood between him and his weekly wages. He had meant to speak to Maria about it, but the right moment did not seem to come. If she could not smile in the face of a sleepless night, how would she take the news of his enlist- ment? Mr. Bradshaw shuddered at the thought, but his sense of duty was very strong, and his wish to serve was an honest wish, and somehow it seemed as if his feet, almost without consulting him, led him to the recruiting-office and out again. It was all over in five minutes—no smiling now, no hesitation _—only a very swift and sweet remem- brance of Maria’s tireless feet as she walked up and down, patiently soothing | the fretting baby, and holding it with | | tired trembling arms. arms. ‘only way. inside, her hair a mass of twists and curls, with a smile only stopped by her ears, stood Maria with the baby in her Before he had time to speak, her words flew out at him. “ You were quite right, George. I’m going to be an optimist too. It’s the Smile at trouble, and pass the smile on, even if it is a eryirg jbaby. Let it ery!” And the baby responded eagerly, whilst George stood in the middle of the passage in a horror-struck silence. “Any dead fish,” the words rang brightly above the uproar, “ean float with the current, but it takes a live one to——” But George spoke breathlessly. “T can’t bear it, Maria; do any- thing you like, ery or be cross, but for God’s sake don’t smile.” “There’s no pleasing you,” she said faintly. Then with a fading smile and anxicus blue eyes, she came near and put her arms close round his neck. “T know,” she said. ‘ You ‘needn’t tell me, George; I see it in your face. You've enlisted.” He did not try to swim up- stream, he only held her a little tighter, and said over and over again, ‘“‘ You see, Maria, it’s my | duty. It’s got me, and I had to. All those pictures upset me, and the chaps out there, and me here. Recruiting Sergeant. ‘Writ, my max, woutp you |It’s a bit of a wrench, Maria, but I’m an Englishman and I'd Milkboy. ‘‘Tuat I woutp, Sir. How mucH bo you got to do it.” THINK HE’D WANT A DAY? GALLON ?”’ AS 4 And Maria, still with her arms __._ round his neck, and his cheek uncomfortably wet with her tears, said in a broken voice, “ Well, there ’s some use in smiling now. It seemed so silly when there were just the usual things to worry over, and just the usual things to do, but now there’s some sense in it, isn’t there? You keep on smiling in the trenches, because—well, because there’s so little to smile about there. And I keep on smiling at home, because— well, because there’s so little to smile about here. I suppose that’s what you call being an optimist. I never saw any sense in it before.” ‘‘The war was costing £25 for every second. It was costing nearly £500 every minute of every hour, and so they could readily guess how it was that money went quickly.”’ Edinburgh Evening Dispatch. Our contemporary seems to have been doing some guess-work already. I T E Se

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S_waewesese Vee BS OS = ct © «se Jury 21, 1915.] + a THE LONDON CHARIVARL PUNCH, OR BEAUTY TRIUMPHANT. Rosie bought a respirator At the local chemist’s shop That her safety might be greater If a gas-bomb chanced to drop. Homeward, light of heart, she hurried While her eyes with triumph shone ; In her bedroom, quick, she scurried, Locked the door, and tried it on. Though it fitted to perfection, How her spirit quailed, alas! At the horrible reflection Glaring at her from the glass, Like some shocking nightmare crea- ture— When in dreams we turn and toss— Goggle-eyed, devoid of feature ; “This,” said Rosie, “ is zmposs.!” Rosie bought some spangled chiffon, Trimmed her mask with pink and blue ; Saucy rosebuds—not too stiff—on Either side she stuck with glue. So, when Zeps come, now or later, When the gas is drifting thick, Rosie in her respirator Will retain her well-known chic. \\ \\ \\ NY x \ wv \ ANA anne AN\\ WW ECONOMY. I Hap just received a polite but dis- trustful letter from my bank, and a circular printed in red from the rate collector, and I was in a mood therefore to read in my paper a few bright hints on “ How to Economise.” The references to lentils and potatoes did not interest me so much as the really practical advice that told me to ask, ‘“‘ Do I really need it?” before buy- ing anything. It seemed to me only right that I should give this precept a fair trial, and I began at once. Vi tty Vb W4, | Officer (to Sentry, who has been asleep). “WHY HAVE YOU GOT YOUR BOOTS OFF?” Sentry. “So aS NOT TO WAKE THE ’ORSES, SIR.” . In Long Acre alone this simple question deterred me from buying | it would be neither right nor proper to thousands of pounds worth of highly | avoid, and the time to face it was not far polished motor cars. In the Hay-|away. I could not altogether shake off market there was a picture—but could | the conviction that circumstances de- [honestly say that I needed it? As I| manded that the meal should be taken passed His Majesty’s Theatre a whimsi- | in an inexpensive tea-shop. It was cal notion entered my head ; but in the but the work of a moment to find a absence of real need, I said sternly, one| shop of this character, and I stood to must not in these times lightly indulge |scan the menu in the window. Did I one’s passing fancies. |really need tea, per pot 3d., or per In Regent Street, whom should I| cup, 2d.? No, I did not; and when I meet but my young cousin looking in| came to rissoles, stewed prunes, hot at a florist’s window? “Oh, Leonard, | milk and biscuits (various) there was aren't those lovely roses ? And so cheap | no doubt whatever in my mind that too!” she exclaimed. Did I need any| the negative was the honest reply. I roses?‘ How’s Aunt Alice this morn- went through the whole unappetising ing?” T asked, looking across the street. | list, and at the end I found myself on With some difficulty I got my young | the brink of starvation. cousin on to a Bayswater bus, and then | Not a moment too soon I was saved moved along towards Oxford Circus, | from the peril. my hand in my pocket and my fingers! “What you do need, my boy,” said toying with my last half-sovereign. | an inner voice, “is a salmon mayon- he question of lunch was one which | naise;’’ so I went and had one. ‘* Strictly Neutral.” ‘«*4 real American Newspaper,’ which is to be ‘strictly neutral’ and to stand for justice to all, ‘ just as Mr. Bryan stands for justice,’ is to be issued here by the Printers and Pub- lishers’ Association, Inc., of 150 Nassau Street, just as soon as its promoters sell $500,000 worth of stock. The promoters are Dr. Hugo Schweitzer, President; Emil Kipper, Vice- President ; Henry Weiss, Secretary, and Max W. Stoehr, Treasurer.’-—New York Times. All “real Americans,” please observe, with not a hyphen among them. An Adaptable Weapon. ‘‘Italy’s great artillery works have also pro- vided her with a 16in. howitzer which is said to have all the qualities of the Krupp 17in. and to be much lighter and heavier.”’ Overseas Daily Mail. To Slackers. ‘¢‘ Jorntnc ARmy.—Two Lounge Suits; good condition ; navy and grey ; 5ft. 9} ins. ; chest, 38 ins.’’—Bath Chronicle. Other lounge suits, please copy.

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68 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. jJuby 21, 1915,

PERMANGANATE OF POTASH. ArrerR my cousin Charles had re- covered from Spy rash he acquired a commission in the army. When the authorities thought that he was ripe they sent him into the trenches in France. Charles’s wife says that he got into the trenches on his merits, and that she did not use her influence to get him there. He didn’t take’ into the trenches all the things which his wife gave him. He mislaid a crate of oranges, six bath towels, a deck chair, a portable Turkish bath and a picnic basket before he left our shores. She insisted on his taking a box of perman- ganate of potash ; she alleged that it was a disinfectant and that you can safely drink quite impure water mixed with permanganate of potash. Charles didn’t fancy drinking impure water or permanganate of potash in any form, but he knew from experience that the latter is useful for staining floors. He didn’t suppose that anyone worried much about staining the floors of the trenches, but he promised to take the box as a kind of mascot. Charles was led into the trenches at night. He found one trench before he expected it, but he got out all right. The man he fell on was quite polite when he found out that Charles was an officer; he said that his rifle was scarcely damaged at all. Although the accommodation wasn’t what Charles was accustomed to, he didn’t complain, as he could see that they had done their best to make him comfortable. It isn’t a nice idea having your meals in your bedroom, but even an officer cannot expect a suite of dug-outs. When Charles had been introduced to the officers in residence, he went to look for his servant who was bringing up his blankets and kit. While he was looking for his servant some Germans had nightmare and let off their rifles. The bullets went very close to Charles, and he suddenly remembered that he had important business with a brother officer in an adjacent dug- out. He just had time to instruct a sergeant to carry on the search. The sergeant reported that there was a party looking for a rifle in the moat at the rear of the trenches. He thought that the rifle might belong to Charles's servant as he had noticed some things that looked like part of an officer’s kit floating about in the moat. He promised to fish for the kit and the servant after they had found the rifle. Everything was recovered, including the servant, who was quite sober but very wet, like Charles’s kit. The next morning, after Charles had shaved, he noticed that he was very

sunburnt. This surprised him, as he hadn’t seen any sun. On investigation he discovered that nearly all his things, including his hair, hair-brushes and shaving- brush, were sunburnt. His hair and face weren’t sunburnt all over but in patches, and he began to suspect the permanganate of potash. He had noticed that his brushes were damp, and if the light had been better when he got up he might have saved his hair and face. He thought of painting in the places which the permanganate had missed, but he didn’t care about the colour sufficiently; there is no scope for artistic effect in one box of perman- ganate of potash. He was afraid that if he was taken prisoner the Germans might mistake him for an Oriental and expect him to talk Hindustani. Charles says that if he had known that he was going to become piebald he would have taken some more pigments with him, and adopted a mixture of colours that would have made him invisible like a fort. The most interesting pastime in the trenches is sniping. You have a steel plate to protect your head and a ser- geant to mark for you. Charles was a very keen sniper until a bullet hit his protection-plate close to his ear. He got bored with sniping after that, and let the sergeant do-it with a corporal as marker. When alien bullets begin to hit your protection-plate it always means that you have done enough snip- ing for that day at least. The only other recognised amuse- ment is digging up bullets which nearly hit you. Charles got a nice collection ; he thinks that the Germans liked him and wanted him to take home more bullets than anyone else. His wife says that if he hadn’t had the perman- ganate he would have been certain to be hit. Charles isn’t sure about this, though he admits that it helped him to get home. He wasn’t altogether sorry when his Company was relieved; although he liked the trenches fairly well he didn’t want to stay there indefinitely. The place was so noisy that he got a head- ache. When he got out of the trenches he went to see the battalion Medical Officer to talk about his headache. The Medical Officer was busy with some urgent cases, and recommended him to the field hospital. The field hospital had a good deal on hand and passed him on to a_ hospital train. Whilst he was looking for a doctor on the train someone started the thing, and it reached Boulogne before he found one disengaged. The journey did Charles’s head good, and | he forgot what he had wanted to talk to the doctor about. The doctor was

so interested in Charles’s piebald ap- pearance that he took him on to Folke- stone, and having taken him out of his way from idle curiosity he couldn’t do less than recommend him for a fort- night’s sick leave. That is how I came to hear about the permanganate of potash without the Censor poking his nose into the matter.

THE NEW INFERNO. [A contemporary reminds us that Dante is ‘‘closely linked with several places now prominent in the War news,”’ including the Trentino, ete., from which he drew many of

his descriptions in the Inferno.] Barv whose fame outruns the ages, | Who with fine prophetic power | Sang of sin’s appropriate wages | Till it made the tyrant cower— | Dante, thou in very surety “shouldst | be living at this hour.” | | Here the wild Trentino’s magic Might cnce more commove your pen To depict for us the tragic Destinies of damnéd men; But you’d cram your hell with Teutons if you toiled on earth again. One by one you’d place their chosen Leaders ’mid your cirgles nine (Whether gaseous, hot or frozen Would be your affair, not mine), And the host of common sinners to their fitting doom assign. For each Hun, save him I'll mention, Your old Underworld would do; But you’d once more need invention When you tackled WILHELM Two; You’d be forced to delve far deeper for fresh gulfs and circles new.

FROM A BELGIAN GARDEN. I Dear Monsieur X,—On behalf: of the battery I am requested to write to you concerning this abode—once yours, now ours. Yet not entirely ours, for another battery at present occupies part of your garden and a portion of your cellar. Still, we came here first, and are regarded as temporary lawful owners by such stray khaki units as wander hitherwards, looking for posl- tions or retiring with bandaged limbs to dressing stations. We discussed the matter just now over some bully and bread and jam, and the latest joined subaltern, having rather a strain of sentiment, said he thought we ought to drink your health in tea. Besides, it occurs to me that you might like to know what state your house is in, for of course we recognise that it is still yours, and doubtless you expect to return to it some day (may it be soon!). There will not be much} ——<—<—<——"

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NTE now the y of our ons ion, tion vO; sper f- of e to urs, for ies 4 of irst, vful 3 as osi- mbs ssed ully test rain ight you | your nise you uy it yuch | Jury 21, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 69 TO COME AND HELP HERE.” You SEE, IT CUTS BOTH WAYS, BATE -" “T say, Lapy RAKEHAM, THAT CHAUFFEUR FELLER OF YOURS—HE OUGHT TO JOIN THE ARMY, YOU KNOW.” “OH, D’ YE THINK SO? WELL, I DON’T KNOW. IF HE JOINED THE ARMY I SHOULDN'T BE ABLE left of it for you to resume, but you may be pleased to know that it will probably go down with a name in history. By the way, what is its name ? The British Army hereabouts calls the | region between the road and the railway | Hell Fire Corner; but you could not _ have conceived of it as that. A sergeant | of ours found a board with “ Sifflez”’ | neatly painted on it, and he thought it might have come off your front gate till he discovered it had been blown from the railway line by a shell, and was merely a Government direction to engine-drivers. But it does not matter much just now. For the first few nights we were here everything was quiet and peaceful. The Germans had evidently overlooked your house on the map and our exceedingly business-like occupation of it. Then one morning the men of subsection B went bathing in the water hole—ah, you won’t know; it is a 17-inch shell hole filled by rain in the field just west of the house—when a German aero- plane suddenly appeared and signalled Its discovery of them by dropping a truly beautiful white star over their heads. Nothing happened till evening, and subsection B were beginning to think the reprimand they had received was undeserved. But we got it that evening — shrapnel, high - explosive, | shells which have scorched and scarred 8-inch stink-shell think of. Your house miraculously escaped being hit this first evening, but your | garden was ripped up mercilessly. You remember the fine row of chestnut and elm trees on the western side, between the house and the field? Several shells hurtled into them and mutilated them horribly. One of your pigs was killed —the cook finished him off with a_ revolver. The little hedge on the Germany side of your house —just sprouting into a fine young green too— was rent with gaps, and a noble beech on the north-eastern corner was clean felled. The rose-walk, we are all glad to say, was quite untouched. I must tell you of that, and why we are so glad about it. Our guns are there! still there, and | still whole! More than for the hospi- | tality of your roof, or what was once a roof, we are grateful to you for that rose-walk. The man who planned it was an artist of the first order. It runs, you remember, under the other line of elms on the southern side of the house. We have the guns hidden in that glorious green arch; and at the foot of those trees when yourefurn you will find our handsomedug-outs. The screaming everything you can | all else in your demesne have never yet | seriously hit this special spot. Perhaps some accident in the contours between this and the German guns, 4,000 and 5,000 yards away, serves to protect it. Perhaps the little china figure, Notre Dame de Bon Secours, stuck up on a ledge in the stoutest of .these elms, endures to shield us poor servants of the Holy Cause hiding in her blessed vicinity. Whatever it be, your gar- dener builded better than he knew when he laid out this southern aspect. When he is put to repose (long hence, we hope) in his last garden, may masses be sung for ever for his soul! When you return and restore this charming spot to civilised order, we would wish you to keep N. D. de Bon | Secours still in her little niche in the big elm-tree. Do not disturb her. Most other treasures you will find in ruins, but she, we know, will be still serenely unmoved. She and your gardener are our battery saints, Mon- sieur ! Yours, under the rose-walk, ForwWarD OBSERVING OFFICER. Asking for Trouble. “To Let, Comfortable Bedroom, Base | gent. preferred.’’— Dunfermline Press.

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| } 70 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Juty 21, 1915, Bo \\\\ ae Wh \i Ng XN WY IA ARAN S 3 \W NS Hy ’ sey AYN _Jj)- EXAMINE ARMS. Officer (severely). “Is THIS RIFLE SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN CLEANED?” Private. “WELL, StR—YEs. But YOU KNOW WHAT THESE SERVANT GALS ARE!” t THE MOUTH ORGAN. On, there ain’t no band to cheer us up, there ain’t no ‘Ighland pipers To keep our warlike ardure warm round New Chapelle an’ Wipers ; So—since there’s nothin’ like a tune to glad the ‘eart o’ man— Why, Billy with ’is mouth-organ ’e does the best ’e can. There ain’t no birds nm Plug Street Wood, the guns ‘ave sent ’em flyin’, An’ there ain’t no song to ’ear except the squealin’ shells a-cryin’ ; The thrushes all ’ave ’ooked it, an’ the blackbird’s ‘ad to __ ee . So Billy with ’is mouth-organ ’e ups an’ does ‘is bit. ‘Is notes is somewhat limited, they are not ‘igh an’ soary ; ’E ’asn’t got that many things in ‘is bloomin’ repertcry ; But when ’e’s played the lot, why, then ‘is course is straight an’ plain, ’E starts at the beginnin’ an’ ’e plays ’em all again! ’E’s played ’em oft upon the march, an’ likewise in the trenches ; "E's played ’em to the Gurkhas, an’ ’e’s played ’em to the Frenchies ; | | "E may be ankle-deep in dust or middle-deep in slime, | But Billy with ’is mouth-organ ’e’s at it all the time. | Wet, ‘ungry, thirsty, ‘ot or cold, whatever may betide ’im, ’"E'll play upon the ’ob of ’ell while the breath is left inside | ‘1m; And when we march up Potsdam street an’ goosestep | through Berlin, Why, Billy with ‘is mouth-organ ’e’ll play the Army in! | | *‘The base for the enemy’s forces operating in this direction was | the Port of Bukeba on the wéstern shore of Lake Victoria Nyanaza, | a point of considerable importance. Warlike stories of all kinds had been accumulated there.’’—Dublin Evening Mail. | So now we know where the German Wireless used to | get its war-news. | | | ‘Mr. Asquith announced that he hoped this part of the session | would close before the end of the war.’’—Evening Standard. | We would sooner have heard that he expected the War to| close-(in the right way, of course) before this part of the Session. ‘*Scotch terrier, past all troubles, cheap.”—Edinburgh Evening News. The advertiser should try Germany. here for dead dogs. There is no demand

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¥ 21, 1915. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Jut SS ISS Ss a [‘VILLOg [vlousn 04 syusutt{dutoo o1svisnyyue §,young “ayy WItA\] dHaMS NVA'TIO V = fi } t OAT ' (ye, Ny ' A] Wy AN N N ais VAI ESNSSRE2 i SS —— ais ~ = iain a a ee n ° = oo > so | | 3 = aoa = 5 So = — y oy Ph Se a

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Juty 21, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 73 ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. (EXTRACTED FROM THE Diary oF Toby, M.P.) Mr. Witt Crooks IS REPORTED TO BE GOING TO THE FRONT FOR THE PURPOSE OF “‘AMUSING THE ToMMIES.” ling s— em : : >> a vy ) WW Y) yg 2 he @ a Y) / y J Z aL Ir Is HOPED THAT HIS EXAMPLE MAY SUGGEST POSSIBILITIES OF USEFUL SERVICE FOR SOME OF OUR MORE COMIC STATESMEN. . OUTHWAITE, Mr. GINNELL AND Mr. HoBHOUSE.] [Mr House of Commons, Monday, July | 12¢h.— Prime MInisTER home from the trenches, where his snow-white locks served for a while the historic part of the plume of Henry or NAvarRRE. Found awaiting him, carefully trained on Treasury Bench, a machine-gun loaded with Questions. A group of fourteen touched variety of delicate topics. Alleged shortcomings of War Office; demand for dismissal from public service of all persons who have proved incompetent; suggestion to appoint a Commissioner to examine into causes which made it necessary to appoint Minister of Munitions more than ten months after the beginning of the War. These varied by demand for a day to discuss question of scarcity of munitions. Another, more compre- hensive, asked for early opportunity of reviewing whole conduct of the War. Finally, attempt made to induce Premier to declare himself on one side or other of the incomprehensible Liuoyp Grorce-HaLDANE misunderstanding. Here was material for occupying the full limit of Question hour. Field of enquiry particularly alluring to Supple- mentary Questioners. Assertions, de- nials, qualifications, innuendoes would form many titbits for the German Press. They had, however, reckoned without their AsquitH. As soon as the first of the Questions was called on, PREMIER rose, enumerated the lot, and quietly said, ‘‘ With respect to them there is no public information I can at the moment properly give.” Forthwith sat down, leaving the band of questioners gasping for breath. Answer greeted with burst of general cheering. ARTHUR MARKHAM, iron-clad, indomitable, tried a fall with Premier. * Are we to understand,” he asked, with evident effort refraining from intro- ducing a particular name which in his Parliamentary utterances plays the part of the head of Kina Cuartes I. | in Mr. Dick’s Memorial, “that all people who fail in the public service are to be retained in office?” Raising his voice in unusual flash of anger Premier replied: “The hon. gentleman is to understand nothing of the kind. He is to understand what I have said.” DaziEL dismissed with equal curt- ness when he attempted to obtain a definite reply to question about Haupane and Lioyp Georce. Ex- Colonel Lyncu (formerly of the Trans- vaal), attempting with trained military instinct to bring up reserves, was promptly cut off by flank attack from the Chair. “This is becoming a debate,” said the SPEAKER in warning voice. Whereupon the bland presence of Mr. Cuapuin, Leader of His Majesty’s Opposition, presented itself at the Table with customary constitutional ques- tion as to the course of business during the week. Threatening episode did not “ spread itself out,’”’ as UNDER-SECRETARY FOR War would say, beyond the space of {six minutes. Illustrates afresh the

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74 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. (Juny 21, 1915. A \ci.eeam - Tes Ss / Young Wife (at sound of explosion). ‘‘THomas! THomas! THE ZEPPELINS ARE HERE! DD you LocK THE FRONT DOooR?”’ he heartily endorsed approbation ex- pressed by Prime MInisTER and Sec- RETARY OF STATE FOR THE COLONIES. T. P. in a few well-chosen words of Supply ; passed cluster of Votes after | added the voice of Ireland to chorus of | brief consideration. Including debate | admiration —‘“ because Ireland, like’ introduced by Dauzret on export of | South Africa, has in generous wisdom cotton for Germany, all was over | passed an oblivion over misunderstand- by 7.15. ings and quarrels with this Empire.” Tuesday.—This is St. Borna’s day.| On SPEAKER putting Resolution from As its first business House set about | Chair, loud shout of “Aye!” acclaimed it. presentation of “ grateful appreciation | On the contrary?” There was no one of the distinguished skill and ability” | on the contrary, not even Herr GINNELL. with which our enemy of fifteen years| ‘Carried nemine contradicente,” said ago conducted military operations that the Speaker, adopting a phrase used baffled the Katser’s carefully planned | in Parliamentary procedure only upon scheme and saved South Africa for the historic occasions. Empire. Premier moved Resolution| Another hearty cheer closed episode, which in ordinary circumstances would and the House, having thus done have been seconded by Leaver oF | honour to a man of alien race who has Opposition on other side of Table. To-| splendidly helped the Empire in hour day the former Leader of a non-existent of peril, turned to consider case of Opposition was seated by Premrer’s South Wales miners, who, unless they side. Thence he rose to add his tribute | get the uttermost farthing demanded to that of his new chief. 'in the way of increased wages, threaten That all very well as far as it went. to throw down axe and shovel, so de- Cuap.in,almost sole custodian of ancient | priving our Navy on guard in the North apophthegm, as applied to answering | Questions, that while speech may be silvern its extreme curtailment is golden. Parliamentary traditions, not the man | Sea of fuel for its engines. to sit quietly by whilst one was rudely | PRESIDENT Boarp | broken. Idle to say there is no Leader | or TRADE, amid cheers from all quarters, | | of Opposition whilst he sits watchful | announces proclamation of application | in the place from time to time occupied of Munitions Act to threatened strike by Disragni and Guapstong. Accord-|in South Wales coalfields. Budget ingly, ‘on behalf of right hon. gentle- | Bill passed through Committee. | man sitting by me on this bench and| Wednesday.—Much sympathy felt | on behalf of many friends behind me,” | with Gorpon Harvey. Interposing in| debate on motion for Third Reading of Budget Biil he remarked, with suspicion of a tear in his voice, ‘‘ Mr. Speaker, I am greatly disappointed with this measure. I cannot understand why it contains no new taxes.” Present Government and long line of predecessors been subjected on various grounds to severe criticism, occasionally resulting in their being turned out of office. Never before was objection raised on this particular score. CHANCELLOR OF EXCHEQUER pro- foundly touched. Pleaded in extenu- ation that within the current year fresh taxation to amount of sixty-eight million sterling had been imposed. Modestly thought that a pretty good beginning. Hastened to assure the mourning Member that it was not the full measure of intention. Let him wait and see. Another Budget already on the stocks. When its proposals were explained, it would appear that the honourable gentleman’s apprehen- sions were groundless. Gorpon Harvey visibly cheered up. Walked home with swinging step and | pleased consciousness that before many months have sped he will personally benefit by what McKenna described as “reasonable but bold measures in direction of increased taxation.” Business done—War Pensions Bill passed Report stage. Budget Bill read a third time.

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Juty 21, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 75 Lapy X. IS INTERVIEWED AS TO HER OPINIONS ON THRIFT IN WAR-TIME. THE TRAITOR. Ir was when I was just recovering from my spring attack of influenza that my wife broke the news to me. -“I think you are strong enough now,” she said, “to be told something | very serious. German.” “ Rubbish,” I said. Appleby all my life.” My wife shrugged her shoulders. “Even before you were ill I heard distressing rumours, and now there is no doubt about it. He goes about saying dreadful things.” “Tell him to come and see me,” I commanded. “You can’t really mean that.” “T am not yet strong enough to stand being contradicted,” I said with a break in my voice, and she flew to the telephone. Mr. Appleby is a pro- “T’ve known Punctual to the moment Appleby | arrived. When I saw him last he looked as though he were sickening for Jaundice. The new Appleby was a rosy- faced philanthropist, bubbling over with good spirits to a degree I found posi- tively exhausting. He greeted me warmly, and had just settled himself in the doctor’s chair for a heart-to-heart talk, when the strains of “ Rule, Bri- tania!” rose falteringly to our ears. My eldest daughter, instigated, as I | shrewdly surmised, by her mother, was ithe culprit, and poor as was the per- |formance the tune was quite recognis- jable. I glanced nervously at Appleby. |To my surprise he was beating time ‘gently, his head tilted on one side and rapture shining in his eyes. “It’s a grand song that,” he ex-| claimed enthusiastically. “Talk of | Die Wacht am Rhein!” “ But ,”’ I stammered. Appleby laughed. “I know what | you are thinking of,” he said happily. | Listen, and I'll tell you a story. A |short time ago I became a nervous |wreck. Life held no joys for me, and I could neither sleep nor look forward | to my meals “i | “T tried every specialist in London,” ‘I put in wearily, completing the formula, but he disregarded the inter- ruption and continued in the same | measured tone. have kept a Pekinese in comfort. But it was no use. There were never want- |ing well-informed persons to point out |to me that what I took for successes were really grave errors in strategy. And they kept telling me awful stories of bombs smuggled in biscuit tins on board our Dreadnoughts, and of German agents among our army cooks.” He shuddered even at the recollection. “ But the time came when I could “What I spent on newspapers would | stand it no longer. I thought out a plan. I read CarLyLe on the glorious destiny of the Hohenzollerns, and hunted up back numbers of the dailies in which we were urged to go to Germany and learn how to run Old Age Pensions and National Insurance. And I quoted these everywhere. The effect was im- mediate and gratifying. At first my friends fell away, but I could stand ithat; it was rest I neededs But now, now they seek me out to tell me that an enemy submarine has been sunk off the Scillies or that the Crown Prince is in the Tower. They cross the street, and risk losing their trains to give me pleasurable scraps of information. My day is one triumphal progress ; I hear nothing but good news now; and look at me! “Tt does them good, too,” he went |on after a pause. “The mere sight of ime promotes cheerfulness; and the memory of the sorrow they have caused my traitorous heart brightens the rest of the day for them.” He beamed upon me and held out his hand. “The hand of a traitor,’ “ Will you shake ?” I shook. he said. ‘“‘The Grouse Bill, which had been taken over by the Government, was also passed.”’ So now, let us hope, the grousers will be satisfied.

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76 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. (Juty 21, 1915, TO ANTHONY TROLLOPE. (On re-reading his Barsetshire Novels.) Goop chronicler of Barset, weaver of genial yarns, Homely and unaffected as the verse of the Dorset Barnes, When the outlook is depressing, when journals bleat and scare, I turn to your kindly pages and find oblivion there. You lead us back from the turmoil of these unhappy days To the land in which our fathers went their untroubled ways ; When gigs were still in fashion and no one was able to scour The countryside in motors at seventy miles an hour. Down Time’s gulf backward roaming, with you as our friendly guide, To the age of flounces and whiskers and crinolines we glide, | When life flowed on like a brooklet with many a bicker and brawl And many a swirl and ripple, but never a roaring fall. You weren’t concerned with problems that harass and | wound and vex, Or with the elemental eternal duel of sex ; The Feminist virago had not swum into your ken, And you had ne fads or hobbies to further with your pen. But a wholesome love of England shone bright through all | your tales— Love of her mellow landscape and green sequestered vales, | Love of her ancient homesteads and gray ancestral towers, | Lawns and meadows and gardens bright with old-fashioned | flowers. l And, though with the fires of passion your stories seldom glowed, That virtue need not be insipid they very clearly showed ; For life in those placid regions was not all cakes and ale, And love brought sore disquiet to your charming Lily Dale. | Yet, while discreetly checkered with sorrow and even crime, | Your stories mostly ended to the tune of the marriage chime, For you held with good CuarLes Darwin that a novelist worth his salt Eschewed an unhappy ending as a quite incurable fault. As a satirist of the clergy you served a laudable end, For we recognise that faithful are the wounds that are dealt by a friend ; You scarified the pompous and yet delighted to paint In the meek unselfish Warden a thoroughbred modern saint. With you the religion of weekdays, and not the Sunday best, Alike for cleric and layman was much the truest test ; You had no special ’doxy, but many a lance you broke On behalf of plain God-fearing unfashionable folk. And your dramatis persone had brains of every size, For you loved the simple and stupid as well as the witty and wise ; And some of your rarest figures were moulded of common clay, And some of your high-born ladies had the meanest parts in the play. Then, O ye precious penmen, who furiously rage Against the “ moral serfdom” of the mid-Victorian age, Lauding your modern idols who make their genius plain |in Kensington Square. In an infinite capacity for giving their readers pain— Go wallow at will in your garbage, mean, sinister or smart, And prate till your jaws are weary of Art for the sake of Art, You cannot abate my freelom to wander far and wide In the pleasant land of Barset by Father ANTHony’s side. IN KENSINGTON SQUARE. I pon’? wish to sail under false colours, so I may as well say at once that this is going to be an appeal—an appeal both for sympathy and for money. Before, however, I proceed to make it I will enter into an agreement with the millions who read Mr. Punch. If I succeed at all in my attempt to convince them that I have a good object at heart, why then they must send along their money. If, on the other hand, I fail, they can keep their cheques in the drawer and their War Loan vouchers in the safe with a clear conscience. I am sure I shall win, not because I am confident in my skill, but because my object is so undeniably excellent. Is it a bargain? Very well, then, It was on a bright afternoon ‘a short time ago that I found myself in an old house of the Queen Anne period Somebody or something must, I suppose, have urged me to go. At any rate there I was, looking into a narrow little room, in which was sitting the queerest little old lady, dressed in a beautiful dress of stiff brocade, with very high heels to her buckled shoes, and wearing her hair thickly powdered. At my sudden appear- ance she rose, regarding me with no very amiable air. “ How now, Sir?’’she said. ‘“ What means this conduct? Is a lady not to be safe from intrusion in her own room, the only one now left to her of the many she once inhabited? ‘Tis but a powder-closet, I know, but even in so narrow a cell I still have liberty to choose my visitors.” It was plain she was angry, but in her anger, as in her whole aspect, there was something at once courtly and unsubstantial. It seemed as though a rough breath might blow her away. I stammered out such excuses as came into my head on the spur of the moment, and was about to withdraw when she stopped me. “ Hold, Sir,” she said. ‘ You erred in ignorance, and I pardon you, as you on your side will, I doubt not, pardon the rough words of an old woman made testy by time. The truth is that this house is by my leave consecrated to a great and beneficent work. Not a room in it but is filled with its party of busy women daily giving their time and the labour of their hands to the achievement of their tasks. Even here—she pointed to the floor of the powder-closet, which was heavily littered with heaps of tow—‘* even here there is an overflow from their work, but ’tis not for me to reproach them with it. Rather I rejoice.” “ But what,” I said, “is the use of tow?” “Tis to help the poor soldiers broke in the War. ‘Tis not enough to make a splint for a broken limb; the splint must be padded with tow, and there are willing hands here both to make the splints and to pad them when made. Would there had been such help in the days I remember, when his Grace of MArLBorovau, that great captain, led the forces of the QuEEN. At Malplaquet we won a great victory, but we lost twenty thousand men, and I fear but little was done to help the wounded. We must make reparation for the past, and here we do it as best we may.” “ But you,” I said, “ can you still help in this?” “T lend the house. I confer my approval on the workers. Not much, you will say, but ’tis all Ican do. A lady who danced at the Court of QuEEN ANNE could not well do less —or more. But we stand prating here too long. Go, Sir, and see for yourself what is a-doing here. Commended by me, you may pass everywhere and see everything, so that

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vell eal Tae | the my at on the h a| e I so a 6 i ‘iod t, i yas, the stiff und sar ct? om, nce 1 in rs.” | her and | ght nto ; to dl don me. 1.to lled and sks. set, vere e to Tis lint nere ade. ber, led reat but rake ” ay. cers. who | less Sir, 1 by that — —— Juty 21, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 7 Lady. “THe CapraIN SEEMS OFF HIS GAME.” Caddie. “YEs, LIDY. HE WAS A VERY GOOD 24, BUT HE’S SPOiLT HISSELF DIGGING TRENCHES. Tuts WAR’s A TERRIBLE THING.” | afterwards you may report our cause and its needs aright | to those who might aid us. Nay, I cannot go with you, for my chair waits me below and my time is come to take | the air.”’ And, as she said this, she seemed to shrivel before my eyes, and in a moment she had vanished from the powder-closet. However, I took her advice and saw everything for my- self; and I now beg leave to report the result of my tour through the Queen Anne house in Kensington Square. First, let me say that I found myself to be present at the headquarters of the Kensington War Hospital Supply Depot, a hive of industry the like of which, both in respect of its output of work and its admirable organisation, I have not seen. More than one thousand ladies of Kensington have enrolled themselves as voluntary workers, and here in their turns they come together, each in her own department, to produce munitions for the various British and Allied Hos- pitals at home and at the Frogt. In one room a party rolls bandages with exquisite precision ; in another they are mak- ing all sizes of swabs. Ina third, as I have already said, they concentrate on the padding of splints, which are served up to them hot and hot, as it were, by a vigorous company of male amateur carpenters installed in the basement. There are about one hundred of these gentlemen in all, and, if I may judge by those I saw, they are a most enthusiastic and skilful lot. In addition to splints of all sorts they make in- valid tables, crutches which one of them upholsters—in fact every kind of carpentry that a hospital can require. Then there is a needlework rcom for the making of dressing- | gowns, bed-jackets, flannel shirts, and so forth; while in | yet another room scores and scores of pairs of slippers are | made of so tempting a pattern and so comfortable a design that one might almost wish for a wound in order to have the privilege of wearing at least one pair of them. Room after room I visited, and in every one of them I was struck by the air of fresh and cheerful determination which shines from the faces of those who, without ostentation and for |no material reward, have pledged themselves to hard toil for the sake of their suffering fellow-morials. From Kensington Square the gifts of this Association are sent out like blessings. Daily they speed on their merciful errand to Malta, to Serbia, to East Africa, to Flanders, to France, to Alexandria, to the Dardanelles. And not only is the work entirely voluntary, but the | In one week The workers themselves help to swell the funds. they contributed no less a sum than forty pounds. only trouble is this: the appreciation of their work has | grown so fast and the appeals from hospitals have become so numerous and so urgent that, if all the demands are to be satisfied, the great and generous public must be asked | to help. Those who subscribe may rely on it that every penny of their money will go straight to the purchase of materials. Nobody in this Association is paid, except the caretakers of the house. If you think I have given gcod reascns for my appeal, let your cheques and your postal orders not tarry. They may be sent to the joint Honorary Secretaries, Mr. Sipney H. Motion and Mr. Epwarp F. Save, Kensington War Hospital Supply Depot, 11 and 12, Kensington Square, W. And I may add that if you wish to see what is being dcne you are cordially invited to call at the address I have given, or at the Branch Depét at 20, Kensington Court close by. You may even be lucky enough to find in her powder-closet my little old lady from the Court of QUEEN ANNE. R. C. L. Iinninachceseninisicen =

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78 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Juty 21, 1915. MUSKETRY INSTRUCTION. I rook a dislike to Smithers from the moment he entered our Volunteer Training Corps, and when I was. pro- moted to the command of his section I began to dislike him still more. There is that about Smithers which seems to make it impossible to give a correct order when he is present. . In addition to which he is one of those men who seek to establish a reputa- tion for diligence by asking difficult questions. One day, when my section had got itself hopelessly mixed for the third time in succession, I began to be annoyed. “Good heavens!” I said, glaring at Smithers, who I felt certain was re- sponsible, “do you mean to say you’ve forgotten how to form fours? How many more times am I to tell you—One pace to the rear with the left foot, and one to the right with * “You've got the section inside out,’ interrupted Smithers. ‘And I should like to know what a man is supposed to do when * “That will do,” Isnapped. “Not so much talking in the ranks. What do you think this is, Smithers— a Literary and Debating | Society?” I was working | up into my best sarcastic vein when the platoon- commander came along and requested me to take my men down to the range and give them musketry instruction. I flatter myself that there is precious little I do not va” Penni a would jump out of a grip like that. | Take aim, Smithers ! Fire!” “One ring out at two o'clock!” called the marker. “Not so bad,” I said, “though, judging by the way you held the rifle, I should say it was more luck than any- thing. Give me the rifle, Smithers.” “ What I’ve tried to impress upon you all,” I went on, “is the importance of sighting. You cannot pay too much attention to your sights. There is only one thing worse than too fine a sight, and that is too full a sight. Smithers took too full a sight. Also refrain from ‘pulling.’ Smithers pulled. Most beginners do. serve my position. should be held. You see the result. Ob- This is how a rifle Then there is the! getting a good score—like this.” I fired a few more shots. “Can't see any hits,” said the marker with his eye to the glass. “Then they must all be in the black,” I replied. “Better than I expected. You see, men, what can be done by paying attention to your sights and holding your rifle properly. Smithers, perhaps you will fetch me the target.” He brought it to me while the section gathered round in awed silence. There was not a single perforation. “What does thismean?” I exclaimed. | Said Smithers in his slow, fatuous way: “I should say that it means you missed the target every time.” “Unless the bullets bounced off,” suggested Hatherway. INTERVAL FOR REFRESHMENTS. Doctor. ‘‘ THEY TELL ME YOUR BOY IS OFF TO THE FRONT TO-DAY.”’ Villager. ‘‘ AY, POOR LAD! OI BIN A-BLUBBIN’ ARF THE MORNIN’— AN’ OI BE JUST A-GOIN’ TO ’AVE A DROP OF ZIDER, AN’ THEN OI BE A-GOIN’ ’OME TO BLUB AGAIN!”’’ “Or came back and filled up the holes,” said Jacobs. “That will do,” I said sharply. ‘“ Notsomuch talk- ‘ing. There is something wrong with the sights.” “ You tested and set them yourself, Sir,” said the | marker, rather more coldly. |* Besides which the other | gent hit the target all right.” | The section chuckled joy- \ously. I felt myself coming unstuck. “T think I can explain,” said Smithers, who was examining the rifle. | “Of course you can,” I | said sarcastically. “ You al- wayscan, Smithers. Gentle- men, Mr. Smithers can ex- plain. Ha! Silence, pray, for our new musketry in- structor, Mr. Smithers !”’ “The rifle is sighted for 500 yards,” drawled Smithers. “This is a 20- know about a rifle. I felt that even Smithers would have no power to un- nerve me once I got fairly started on my pet theme. The section listened respectfully, almost reverently, while I explained the difference between the foresight and the trigger-guard. Smithers seemed particularly attentive. I was determined, however, to take this opportunity of impressing him with a full sense of his inferiority. “ Before I show you how to shoot,” I said, “I will give you an example of ‘how not to do it.’ Smithers, be so kind as to take up a firing position on | the mat.” Smithers obeyed. “You will observe,” I continued, | “that his position is altogether wrong. | to get a good grouping. His legs are too wide apart; his head is forced too far forward; his eye is too near the backsight; the butt of the rifle is too high on his shoulder ; his grip is hopeless; a child’s pop-gun ‘letting off. Most raw recruits—| Smithers, for example—pull the trigger | as though they were trying to pull a} eart-horse back upon its haunches, whereas a gentle even pressure is what you want.” I fired. “ Youre not on the target,” said the | marker. ‘“ Unless,” he added hastily, | “it’s in the black.” | “We'll presume it’s a bull,” I said | stiffly. ‘There is no reason why it) should not be a bull. If these sights | are correct Q “You tested them yourself,” put in the marker coldly. “ it must bea bull.” I addressed the section. ‘ Now I’ll show you how An occasional bull is all very well, but it’s the good group that counts. Now if you take a correct sight, as I did, and hold your rifle properly, and not as Smithers held it, there is nothing to prevent your yard range, consequently every one of your shots, presuming that you were aiming correctly, must have cleared the top of the target by about two inches.” When the fools had finished laughing I said, looking at Smithers— “Smithers, these sights were correct when the rifle was in your hands.” Smithers’ face wore the guileless oh-to-be-an-angel expression of the cathedral choir-boy. I was proceeding when the platoon-sergeant entered with orders for us to reassemble for dismissal. “Tt just shows,” I heard Smithers say as the section fell in, “ that a fellow can’t pay too much attention to his sights.” I can see myself having trouble with Smithers. A “FIGHTING STOCK.” THe New Wak Loan. Ahh & = 2h Ge feet 66klCU hoe 6 Oe 0lCOUe ee lCUelCUelCU lee Oe eee el ee !

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ed id k- ng 2X- in- ed led d5- are ‘ed wo ect ess the ing ith sal. ers ow his ith Juty 21, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. fv 4 eee wi poten EO tt ty compmnen tee ces re acre naa, 5 ad CSS iol pots a0 tony ‘*Ir THE GOVERNMENT WANTS MORE MONEY, 7 Moa "Fan Side pe WHY DON’T THEY PUT THE MINT ON OVERTIME?”’ OUR BOOKING-OFFICE, (By Mr. Punch’s Staff of Learned Clerks.) Mr. H. G. Wetts never perhaps fools quite lightly; he can’t help weighting his most extravagant jests with just a little sociology and social criticism, and Bealby (METHUEN), which he calls “a holiday,” in the sense of “a lark,” has little touches of this, and also lies under the handicap of the gifted author’s rather ponderous phrase-making, or phrase-making that seems ponderous in this kind of jollity. I am not sure, either, that he quite escapes being occasion- ally facetious . . . But of course it’s absurd to be solemn about Bealby—a mere extempore diversion thrown off in an artless way: a kind of harlequinade, or perhaps like nothing so much as a scenario for one of those breathless kinema comedies of the people’s palaces. But not fatuous, as they—rather, indeed, at times quite Pickwickian in its resourcefulness and gay movement. When I tell you that Bealby, the new steward’s-room boy, escaping from the persecutions of Thomas, the second footman, butted an Hegelian Lord Chancellor of ample habit of body (no, not that one, as Mr. Wexts carefully explains in the preface), and that thereafter the Chancellor bit the butler and on yet another occasion blacked his eye and yet again shook him violently at his host's sideboard at Shonts during that fatal week-end, you won’t wonder that Sir Peter Laxton thought his guest needed to be restricted in the matter of alcohol. And you may wonder reasonably what it was all about and what it all led to. Well, get Bealby and find out. You'll not be bored, and you'll laugh. often. And What better things in a small way can well befall you ? What a crowd of readers will rejoice to hear that the happy coalition known as E. G2. SomervVILLE and MARTIN | Ross have published another of their delicious pronounce- ments on the Irish problem. Jn Mr. Knox's Country (Lonemans) brings back again all those jolly people whom one has several times enjoyed meeting before—Flurry Knox ; the fearful but fascinating old grandmother, Philippa, and the rest of them. No collaboration has ever been a greater puzzle to me than this of these two clever women. The matter of their stories is so slight (nothing at all, when you look back upon them, ever seems to have happened) and the laughter they raise in you is so inevitable a thing, born spontaneously from the clash of characters, that I am driven to the belief that each of the authors must manage their pet persons in the cast independently of the other, and take it in turns to set down the result. In this case I think my most grateful homage is at the feet of whoever is | responsible for old Mrs. Knox. That aged but unquench- | able lady is a joy for ever. Whether you see her heroically | stifling her rheumatics, bending a rebellious family to her | iron will, minding her own and everyone else’s business, or relaxing in the gentler pleasures of the chase, she | remains a quite unforgettable figure. As in the previous books, these stories are illustrated with drawings by Miss SoMERVILLE, but, spirited as they are, I could have wished that the artist had left Mrs. Knox to my unfettered imagi- nation. No hand, even that of her creator, could improve on my mental image of this wonderful and superhuman being. Two Who Declined (SmitH, ELDER) is what I should call

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£0 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHALIVARI. [Juny 21, 1915. a most worrying book. It is so involved and haphazard, and so much concerned with things that used to matter a good deal, but at present are altogether outside, that I ended by mislaying my patience. I should say it was very probably a first effort in fiction; and, for all its obvious defects, there are here and there snatches of clever- ness about the writing that mitigated my exasperation. | So perhaps Herbert TREMAINE (whom I suspect, despite | this name, of being a woman) will do better next time. For one thing, the present book suffers from having been written with an object. One might indeed say with half-a- dozen objects. And the inevitable result is that as a work of art it suffers. We began with a promising thrill: a young doctor has just shot himself, leaving behind a semi-idiot child (who, we gather, used to be all right before the doctor began experimenting) and a frightened partner. Moreover, the partner, who rejoiced, or might under happier circumstances have rejoiced, in the name of Ludovic Spim, was a Prussian. So, of course, I saw at once that he had been up to some of his native devilments ; and started with a pleasant anticipation of a mystery, ending with the just hu- > miliation of the Herr Doctor Spim. But here, unfortun- | ately, the Purposes began | muddling things. Spim was | guilty all right; but we never got much further than | that. Instead, attention | was taken up with a crew | of Anti-Vivisectionists and | Vegetarians and Woman’s | Righters, who were all so boring that I feel sure they must be faithfully drawn. | Indeed it is partly on the, treatment of them that I base my hope that Mr. or Mrs. or Miss TREMAINE | may yet produce an in-| teresting story, given more | agreeable matter. But) honestly, unless your ad- | rae ———_— TURN THAT ANIMAL FOR ME? I New Farm Assistant (sweetly). ‘*Woutp you WANT HIM TO GO IN HERE.” remember that the portrait is a possible one, for it takes | just a little of the bitterness out of an ineffably bad business. Perhaps Mr. CuampBers, like many writers in this field, is a little too obsessed with those fateful documents which are stolen, pursued, captured, left on the washing-stand and forgotten, though the fugitive’s life and a country’s fate hang onthem. Of course it was flattering of Mr. CHAMBERS to make his hero knit his brow so determinedly and so long over that cipher drawing, the general sense of which dawned upon clever me when I first clapped eyes upon it, as it will dawn on you, gentle reader... Taking it all in all, this is a sound book and not blighted with too many horrors. As far as I can gather from contemporary fiction, the chief flaw in the German system of espionage is that there seems to be no means by which one German spy can recognise another. This makes it hard for the poor fellows. They are going along very nicely, when up comes a perfect stranger, who says, ‘Hist! I also am from the Wilhelm- strasse ; I also am a spy, only a rather more important one ~ a) ~~} than you. From now on, act entirely under my orders. Perhaps you had __ better begin by telling me all and after that I'll be think- \ing up something else for you to do.” Upon which, without a moment’s doubt or hesitation, the guileless fellows, saluting humbly and murmuring, “Gott strafe England !”’ proceed to jump through hoops, | sham dead, and do anything else he requires of them. There is something very charming about this child- like faith in one’s species, jand I am glad to find it flourishing in Berlin, but it must hamper the German ae a “ BE SO KIND AS TO miration for the Purposes is robust enough to overcome your wish for entertainment, I fear I must advise you to follow the example of the Two Who Declined and give the present volume a miss. Mr. R. W. CHAmBers contrives a plausible atmosphere of War in Who Goes There? (ArpLeton). His gallant young American hero, Kervyn Guild, in reality a scion of the old Belgian nobility and reserve officer in the crack regiment of Kina AxBert’s army, The Guides, is first introduced as a unit in a party ranged against a wall facing a row of helmeted men in field-grey of a well-known shade; and from that awkward moment till he takes his German-Danish bride to safety through the enemy lines, has a very tough time of it and acquits himself as one has learnt to expect a Belgian officer todo. Karen, his heroine, is an eminently good sportsman, and makes and takes love very prettily indeed. Mr. CHamBpers weaves his double strand of Love and Death with a skilled hand. And, being a neutral with an immense bias on the right side, he yet sees (or at least saw at the time of correcting his proof- sheets, which was before the Gulflight, the Falaba, the Lusitania and other gentle hunnishments) the great quarrel with enough of detachment to allow himself to draw ¢ portrait of a chivalrous Prussian officer, the rival claimant to Karen's hand. Even in our anger it is no bad thing to Secret Service as regards results. To take but one instance, it enabled Alec Deane, in Mr. Artour W. Marcumont’s latest story, The Lady Passenger (HODDER AND STOUGHTON), your professional secrets, | | | | to do more deceiving and frustrating than I remember to have come across between the pages of any other six-shilling | novel. The scene of The Lady Passenger is laid in Com! stantinople, shortly before the entry of Turkey into the | War, and deals with the efforts of sundry German spies to | hand over an English girl to the Turkish Haska Pasha as | the price of his assistance in bringing his country into the | conflict. Deane poses as a superior spy, orders the lesser | spies about, snubs them, bullies the Pasha, and saves the | girl. It is an entertaining story, but I am bound to say | that the opinion I once held, that the two most dangerous | things in the world were German spies and mince pies, has | been sadly shaken. ' ‘‘Tsaac Newton, when at school, was a notorious dunce, and) nearly always found himself at the bottom of the class.’’—Answers. | And that’s how he discovered the theory of Gravitation. | ‘« We hear of men who send their only sons to the front in the spirit of Isaac the Patriarch, who laid his first-born on the altar.” Morning Post. This hitherto unrecorded incident shows that Isaac was 4} remarkable example of heredity.

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any the here can Ws. fect 2]m- one on, lers. stter | all | rets, ink- | for Lich, subt less nbly rott ceed ops, hing em. very rild- cies, d it ut it man nce, NT’S ‘0N); | r to} ling | Son- | the | S to | a as | » the | Ser | the | say | rous | has | Juty 28, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 81 CHARIVARIA. “The Daily Mail yesterday said that | Mr. Luoyp GrorGEe ought to go to} Cardiff at once. diff."—Daily Mail. promptly executed. * COAL STRIKE. BLACK OUTLOOK.” Daily Chronicle. It’s been done before. A very mode- rate joke even when it first | came out. ; The Giornale Sicilia states | that, during the taking of | Monte Nero, a Sicilian soldier | captured an Austrian general | by lassoing him. We caution our Allies against doing this! to any German generals. ; German generals are very dig- | nified and touchy, and would | probably consider it an “ | friendly act. , Speaking of Lord HaLDANE the Kreuzzeitung says :—* His success in deceiving us is due to the admirable and truly English mask of hypocrisy under which he hid his rep- | tilian features.” One would have thought, however, that | the lithe and snake-like sinu- | osity of the Ex-CHANCELLOR’s | // figure would have put them | ‘ on their guard. “RIGA IN DANGER.” The above headline, pub- | lished last week, caused a feeling of intense depression | among limerick-lovers, and the hope was freely expressed that every nerve will be strained to prevent the name of this important town being | LDUIN MoRROW | changed. We regret to hear that Mr. Justice Avory’s remarks, in the course of a recent action, on the wickedness of spending £500 on a Pekinese puppy, have given grave offence in China. * * The engagement of Mr. Epw1in Mon- TAGU and the Hon. VENETIA STANLEY has been described as “a sort of War Loan affair”—Mr. Montacu taking his fiancée with the right to convert. Herr Houston CHAMBERLAIN declares that there is a dearth of great men among his dear Germans. This fact Would seem to be appreciated by at least one German paper, which publishes At 6.10 last night | Medical Officer of Health the principal | to protect our eyes from the fierce rays Mr. Lloyd George . . . left for Car-| cause of death in Cambridge is old age. | of the sun. Esteemed orders| It is thought that, now that this is|tectors for the same reason.” We | ECONOMY IN WAR-TIME. SINGING THEIR OWN WEDDING MARCH. A letter from a British soldier in the Persian Gulf, quoted in The Times, . says, “ We are called the ‘ goggle-eyed According to the yearly report of the | army’ owing to our wearing goggles |a portrait of Rempranpt in a series of | . bd ” | pictures entitled “Great Germans. | We also wear spine pro- known, local scientists will concentrate | scent an Irishman here. on the problem of abolishing old age. “." | . The German newspapers are furious | The publisher of the magazine, Blast, | with the famous Italian singer, Caruso, announces that he still has some copies |for not being a pro-German, and the ofnumberone. Wecan well believe this. Katser wants his scarf-pins back. Cufs a la Coq. ‘* Egg-laying in poultry descends . from sire to daughter.’’ The Scottish Farmer. | A Real Clerk of the Weather. ‘“‘Mr. Rufus Williams called attention to the vane on the Town Clerk, which now always pointed to the south-west—a most unfortunate quarter.’’—Cambrian News. ‘| « Advertiser fed up with dull life wants to correspond with intelligent men. Subjects -- Physic, Occult, Religion, & Ghost lore, Humour not objected to. Nom-de-plume on both sides. Address Mr. R. Crusoe, c/o Post Master, Dhurrumtollah.’’ Statesman. We are sorry that Mr. R. Crusok, like his namesake, should suffer from ennui, and can only hope that he will find correspondents who can “ joke wi'oot deeficulty” on the sub- jects he mentions. “The fact that head wounds represent, according to a paper read at the Paris Academy of Medicine, 13°33 per cent. of all wounds is of great importance to a proper un- derstanding of the problem of the use of helmets fculottes metal- liques).’’—The Times. It would also help to simplify the problem if our contem- porary would kindly explain how the wearing of metal breeches is expected to prevent head-wounds. From The Observer :—* Sir,— Ob- ‘‘Mr. ——, of Kipling Avenue, Bath, has servator is ‘Wrong in saying that the received a commission in the 169th Battalion bi-centenary of Queen Anne’s death p.¢.L.1.""—Bath and Wilts Chronicle. passed unnoticed. I laid a bunch of The reports that recruiting in the flowers at the base of her statue in pelectable Duchy has been slack Queen Anne s Gate.—RanpaLL Davies, | are evidently unfounded. If you persist B.S.A. We are afraid that Ranpaun in them, these 169,000 ‘“ Cornishmen is a bit of o flirt. , | will know the reason why.” “While the cunning silence of the) Fyrom a speech by the German English,” says the Kreuzzeitung, “ has| Chancellor :— been taken for pure gold, the gold of | ‘«* Germany and Austria-Hungary were fight- 'straightforwardness and justice that is ing for their liver against a world of pigmies.”’ |hidden beneath German talkativeness Daily Telegraph (Launceston, Tasmania). ‘has not been discovered.” The latter | We hope it may be inferred from this ‘portion of this statement is, anyhow, | that the Central Powers have given up |a fact. all hope of saving their bacon. VOL. CXLIX,

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Juny 28, 1915, WEARY WILLIE, JUNIOR. I HEAR that we are going strong Out there upon the Polish front, But somehow something’s always wrong About my own peculiar stunt ; Each single time I take a blob; For just a solid year I’ve scored ’em ; And now this tedious Argonne job Has turned me stiff with boredom. Once more I’m told to hack my way To Verdun by the nearest route, This time allowing no delay For women, wine or other loot ; Well, I have hacked and hacked and hacked Day after day in dull succession, And only made in point of fact A very small impression. I fear that Father takes it ill; He taught me as a bud to sprout ; From him I learned the way to spill My cannon-fodder’s blood about ; He nursed my Hohenzollern brains And showed my scabbard how to rattle, And yet, for all his pious pains, I cannot win a battle. £o now he cuts me. All this while He’s polishing up his orb and crown, Rehearsing how to make in style His entry into Warsaw town; And there (with Mother, too, in tow) He'll leave me outside in the chilly, And never pause to care a blow About his Little Willie. 0.5. HOW TO END THE WAR IN NO TIME. (By Our Aerial Expert, Mr, Bindles Dibs.) I rEtTuRN this week (as I did last week and the week before and expect to do next week) to the need for an Aerial Offensive on a grand scale. It is a most extra- ordinary thing that the Government can’t be made to see it after all the trouble I have had in working out the details. I have consistently advocated, in this publication and elsewhere, on the platform and in the Press, the recognition of our air forces in the capacity not of an arm but of a service; also the vital difference between an Attack and an Assault, the hopeless ineffectiveness of Raids as compared with Thrusts, and the important distinction between an Offensive Act and a mere Impertinence. To-day we come back to our old ground and proceed to discuss (1) How our aerial fleet is to be obtained, and (2) How it is to he employed. We must have an adequate force, and this force must not have any earthly connection with the forces we have already. It must not be confounded with them at all; it must be a new, special and unique departure, set aside, ear-marked, allocated, fore-ordained. You see it is meant to be a fresh element of surprise, and it is clear that the more I go on talking about it the more profoundly unprepared the enemy will be for its appearance. But one point about it must be borne in mind—that it will do the trick. How is this force to be obtained? We must not for a moment interfere with the work that is going on in the pro- duction of aeroplanes to operate as an arm with our forces in the field. (I have nothing to do with that: I believe them to be doing well). The thing must be done on a | territorial basis and spread over every part of the British Isles. I have taken a good deal of trouble to work this out and have arrived, by a process of elimination, at the only possible method. I do not ask for an unreasonable number of aeroplanes. but we must have ten thousand to start with, and the number must increase by leaps and bounds. As I calculate, it can be done, with our existing resources, in a matter of about five weeks. But the work must be minutely sub-divided. ; | Let every parish form a committee and undertake the local production of one machine and the training of one laviator. Local conditions must of course be considered. In some cases the man most suited to be trained for this purpose would be one of the churchwardens; in others not, But the right man could easily be found. Where a parish committee could not be formed without friction the thing might be put in the hands of the local Cricket Club, or the Horticultural Society, where such exists. Plans would be provided by a central office in London. I cannot see any difficulty that can arise. By the way, will all inventors, constructors, mechanics, local tradesmen willing to try to make parts of aeroplanes and other aerial accessories im- mediately communicate with me by registered post ? Let us suppose, allowing for all delays, that our new fleet is ready for mobilization by the second week in October. How then is it to be employed so as to wind up the War before the third week in Novembe?, and so obviate another winter campaign? It must operate at selected points in a continuous stream, night and day. The flight must be made at a certain altitude and in a certain formation, and, more than that, in a certainegiven direction. The best formation, to allow for windage, is a diamond lozenge shape with an oblique spear head. This ensures that if every man drops bombs for all he is worth some of them will reach their billet. For let me again impress upon my readers the fact, not yet sufficiently grasped, that an aeroplane is not simply a weapon with a range of some hundreds of miles, it is also a club which can strike ata distance ; it may also almost be said to be a fist, enhanced by a trajectory. There are many useful objectives. There are—did I ever mention it before ?—the bridges over the Rhine. If they were destroyed they could not be freely used till they were repaired. Again, the German army in the West would be rendered helpless by the unceasing bombardment of the General Staff. Again—this is my newest idea: I always like to put in something new to encourage my readers—the crops in the Hungarian Plain (such of them as are still ungarnered in October) could be made unfit for human use by being subjected to a curtain of bombs on an extensive scale. I have only to-add that if it is Cecided to go forward with the scheme, exactly as here described, I shall be happy to give my services in any useful capacity. Correspondence: Mr. H. G. WEtus writes :—‘ My dear Dibs,—It’s no good. If people of rich imagination and brilliant prophetic powers—like you and me—who foresaw every incident and development of the present War about the end of last century, cannot get a hearing and a following now, there may be, after all, some truth in the torrent of bosh about national inefficiency that issues from the Press every day. So I think you may as well give it up.” ‘EDINBURGH AND DISTRICT. Krupp’s MEN THREATEN TO STRIKE.”’ Edinburgh Evening News. Thanks, no doubt, to the Censor, the London Press has | not reported the enemy's invasion of the Scottish capital.

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15, ritish is out - only im ber with, As I 5 ina vutely e the f one i] lered, r this | | S not. yarish thing 1] or the ild be | e any i} ntors, ry to s im- ’ fleet tober. . War other sina || st be } , and, | | - best shape every 1 will 1 my t an | some y ata unced | | lid I | . 2 | } | they West ment idea: | e my them | | S On ward ll be dear . and esaw rbout nd a | n the from | give | PUTTING HIM IN HIS PLACE. | - Austrian Emperor. “HOW WELL OUR ARMS ARE DOING!” | | hes | GerMan EmpPrror (coldly). “QUITE SO. BY THE WAY, I HEAR YOU'VE GOT A WAR ON | tal. WITH ITALY. ANY NEWS FROM THAT FRONT?” |

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———E JuLty 28, 1915.] SS S—— —— SSS = _ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 85 wos Patriotic Villager (discussing ages), “IF THIS WAR ’AD ONLY STARTED THIRTY YEARS AGO, Sir, I COULD JUST 'A SQUEEZED INTO THE ARMY.” FROM A BELGIAN GARDEN. II. Dear Monsieur X,—Since I last .| wrote to you, we in your garden have been through some tough times. Your house has had at least a dozen shells clean through it. Doors and windows no longer exist and several walls are swept away as by a wizard’s wand. In one room which remains whole we| boldly eat our meals in the less turbu- lent days. But our sometime bedroom —and it looks as if it had once been yours—had two stink-shells in it within five minutes one evening; the gas smell, which makes you cry from eyes, nose, and throat all at once, lingered about the débris for a week. The kitchen is blown in and your priceless kitchen- range wrecked. The beams of the upstairs rooms wave about and groan in the wind. The little carriage house is a heap of bricks. But the cellar is still good, and some of the men sleep there. For others we have dug two fine strong-bolstered pits, one outside your front door and one under the western bay-window. We had to take these liberties and we ask your pardon. We are convinced it was the fault of | |transport party—rations and ammuni- | ‘tion—every evening, and his teams’ other batteries, Monsieur, who have from time to time come to your garden |and requested leave to take up a posi- ‘have to travel for over a mile in the tion in the hedge on the Germany side’ shell zone before they leave the twist- of it. The first of these neighbours! ing road to trot across the final three- stayed two days and one night. They quarters of a mile of fields up to the had not the art of hiding from the; house here. I have just told you what ‘aeroplane. Your hedge there was torn | those fields look like. The Germans up, the noble north-east beech was'try and time their Evening Hate to ‘smashed at its base, and four eight-| coincide with the Q.M.S.’s arrival, ‘inch shells roared down into the farm, but he has always got his transport | ‘ : . | stables near by and set them on fire. The|through without disaster. Probably high-explosives whistled and hummed/he could not explain how. The ride within inches of our cowering heads/across your western fields under for a dreadful period not measurable by | shell fire, Monsieur, is something to ordinary time. Another eight-inch shell | remember. landed within a dozen feet of our tele- The German shells have not entirely phone dug-out, right in the face of the | killed the Spring which we have spent little china Notre Dame in the tree,and|here. The chestnuts in your wind- it failed to explode! The place shook} breaks have flamed out ; the gorgeous horribly, but two of us crawled out and | lilacs have burst forth strong and sweet put the shell in a deep damp hole. Not|and luxuriant, challenging all furies one of our battery was hit. But the | whatsoever ; the great rhododendron by ‘other people! What was left of them |the shattered north-east beech is in all | pulled their guns out as soon as dusk | its old riot of colour. Nota single shell ;came in the evening of that second|has hit any of these splendid things. day. In all, three batteries have come | Perhaps Mademoiselle your daughter to that north-eastern side of your house —who has taken you by the arm, and tried to stay there. We are alone surely, to look at this passion of here now with your house and garden | Nature in former springtimes—perhaps in ruins. Mademoiselle may be glad to hear this And yet some people will deny that| news of them. Be so good as to say, miracles can happen! Ask the Q.M.S.| with my salutations, how heartily I about miracles. He rides up with the agree with her taste. Yours in gratitude, ForRWARD OBSERVING OFF:CER.

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86 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL [Juny. 28, 1915. THE COUNTRY COTTERS. I. Dear Peter,—Thank you for your magnanimous offer tolend me.one-and- sevenpence till next screw-day, but you have entirely misinterpreted my letter. You forgot to read between the lines. What I intended to convey to you was that Joan and I are much too hard up this year to afford a. holiday on our I laid the idea before Joan, but she says there must be a flaw in my argu- ment- somewhere, or else why hasn’t the idea been worked hefore? My answer to that was that other people haven’t got my brains. Nevertheless, Joan refuses to attempt the scheme unless I first consult Perkins about it. But that, I consider, would be sheer waste of money, because I shall have to pay Perkins 6s. 8d. for his opinion usual seale of princely munificence.'in any case, and then, if his opinion What we are accustomed to ~ is an “ excellent’ cuisine under | the immediate supervision of a | professional, choice wines from our own wood, separate knives | and forks for each course, sep- | arate serviettes,” the type of | accommodation with which the | Railway Guides have doubtless made you familiar. 3ut I see no prospect of our being able to afford these extra- vagances unless we make some more money. This we could | possibly do by Joan’s accepting a little plain chaving and by my taking pupils for fretwork and the mandoline—courses which, I need scarcely say, we are very loath to adopt, as the families of both of us date back to QUEEN Victoria, a fact of which we are naturally proud, though jealous young Edwardians might possibly call it swank. Things being so, you may imagine how anxious I am to solve the problem of our annual holiday satisfactorily. A few days ago I thought I had done} so. I came across an advertise- ment in one of the papers which suggested to me a method whereby we could secure, with a little adroitness and savoir faire, a holiday of the kind to which we have been brought up, at only half the usual price. The advertisement concluded— . : ; : “Terms from 7s. 6d.aday ...!| Workman (grappling with the difficulty). “ STRAF Days of arrival and departure Kaiser! THERE GOES ANOTHER HALF-PINT! reckoned as one day.”” Now can you seg! should coincide with my own, I shall my idea? If we started off in the side- | have absolutely squandered eight-ninths the earlier closing of public-houses owing to War regu has led to a larger jug trade.] car one morning at about 5.30 wecould|of a Lumpton-super-Mare full meat. breakfast, eight-ninths of a Lumpton reach Lumpton-super-Mare in time for | lunch (with choice of hot and cold the “full meat breakfast”’ at 8.30, and need not leave until we had had “coffee! dishes), eight-ninths of a Lumpton after-. | | in the Lounge” after dinner on she} noon tea (including cake or biscuits), eight-ninths of a Lumpton 18-hole, following day. This accommodation | would undoubtedly be cheap at 15s. for | table d’héte dinner, eight-ninths of a the two of us. We should then leave| Lumpton coffee in the lounge, to say the Hotel at 11.55 and return at a few nothing of eight-ninths of bed, free minutes after midnight, and ask for | boots, lights and attendance. rooms again. And so cn, day after’ With some reluctance, therefore, I day, until we had spent all our money, | finally abandoned the idea at 2.47 a.m. or were forcibly escorted beyond the} next morning, but I rejoice to say that frontier by a posse of Boy Scouts. |a brand-new brain-wave arrived to-day [According to a publican who gave evidence the other day, immediately after reading your generous letter. Now, Peter, you own a country cottage, “The Yews” (or is it “The Ewes ”’ ?), at Windleton, Sussex, which you never use except as an address from which to write letters to The Daily Mail, possibly with the notion that the opinions of Peter Travers, of Windleton, in the County of Sussex, Gentleman, will have greater weight with the Editor than those of Peter Travers, of Thornton Heath, in the ~~ County of—is it in a county ?— ' average adjuster. What do you i say to letting it to me for three weeks come next Tuesday? I[ , should be willing to pay you any ‘sum in reason, say threepence a take great care of it, and always | being it in at night... No, /no, my dear Peter, we simply | couldn't. We may be poor, but | (as I have already told you) we | are proud. I insiston putting the | matteronaregular business foot- |ing. Many thanks all the same, in which my wife joins me. . . . We should, of course, expect ‘nothing in return for airing the beds, ventilating the premises or feeding the ewes (or is it “yews” ?). But I should like to know— (a) What rent will-you allow me to pay? (b) Is the cottage on the electrophone ? (c) Is there a bath-room? Failing that, a ducking- stool at the village pond ? (d) A skating-rink ? (ec) A presbytery ? (f) Do we have to take our own linen, glass, cutlery and chaplain ? Let me have a reply at once, there’s a good Peter, for ‘which I enclose—at least, I | think I enclose ; yes, I do en- close—a penny stamp. What about references? My ____| bankers will, I am_ sure, be pleased to certify that my overdraft is no more than usual, and our family doctor would not have any objection to testifying that I always discard from weakness. Or, let me see, isn’t it you who ought to give me references? I will ask Perkins (not, if I can avoid it, in a professional way, but in the ‘course of general conversation), and if he says Yes, I shall require references from the Archbishop of CaNnTERBURY, | Mr. Gorpon SELFRIDGE and the Spanish Ambassador. : Your loving little friend (though it sounds more like a biscuit), OswaLp. lations E THE , week, for the use of it. I would ian al

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Ly ut ve he t- 1e, ft m Ob vid he eS LY, sh ee eee eee ee ‘Must be pronounced to bear away the Juny 28, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 87 | \ Pt AMM NA aT U1 A oT ~ a | | | ! i it i \\ | if \. f% ARN IC Caer ‘me WAG. ik e\\ fff, Gy! Yi pay i — ONY y) Ly ‘ (hidlewe PLA), =) i : — oo Prisoner (on being asked, ‘‘ What sty you, ‘ Guilty’ or ‘ Not guilty’ ?’’). ‘‘Me Lup, I LEAVE IT TO THE LEARNED COUNSELS TO FIGHT ’ IT OUT BETWEEN:’EM. I’LL BE NEUTRAL.’ THE IMPORTUNATES. seeks A FRAGMENT. lw prove himself the very Prince of| Past-MASTER of th’ inquisitorial art, Freaks. Behold Sir AntHUR Marxnawm, blame- Yet, if his talk be tall, for this abuse less Bart., | He can admittedly plead good excuse : Who in his hate of prophesyings smooth | Nature, his countrymen are wont to tell, Out-Herods Hrrop and out-Handels| Gave him an inch, and so he took an L. Boorn. . Not his the methods of his namesake | And there are others who foment dis- mild, | trust : Instructress of the mid-Victorian child, | By stirring up recriminative dust— But a relentless longing, fierce and fell,, Most worthy men, no doubt, but how I) 710! To drag poor Truth at all hours from wish . her well, | They ’d fry some other and less stink- Linked with a childish jealousy of those ing fish— Who vie with him in comforting our foes. | M4son from Coventry to London sent, For though, as Master of the Scapegoat Although the converse was by Nature Hunt, meant, ° Sir Arruvr long has kept his place in| Aud Datzien, who assiduously tries front, To scare the timid by his tales of spies. In sheer grotesque irrelevance GINNELL ‘ | In fine, though not habitually prone bell To harbour homicidal thoughts, I own Two of a trade; the ancient saw proves | To feeling them within my bosom rise trne | Against these Parliamentary Paul Prys. 'Thank Heavy’n, for some few blesséd weeks to come The rising of the House will keep them Of the two leaders of the curious crew. In the long run the pupil always wins, And then the ancient comedy begins— | Satan rebukes his own peculiar sins, dumb, , 7 And, in enforced abstention from de- Nor must veracity refrain or flinch bates, Froth doing: justice to the wondrous! Less free to tempt the Nemesis that Lyncu, | waits Who in his quest of needless knowledge !On those who labour with unholy zeal should be Lest England’s wounds allowed to heal. THE HONEYMOON. Dear Cxotor,—When, a year ago, We planned our honeymoon together, We asked but little here below-—— A week or two of decent weather, Hotels attuned to English ways (The Continent we both laid stress on), The guiding hand of Cook or Gaze To teach the amateur his lesson. My word, there’s been a change since then, A change exceeding swift and thorough ! And now I guard, from six till ten, The gas-works of my native borough; While you, by tender zeal possessed, Zach week foregather with your neighbours, And do your dear unskilful best To share in Sister Susie’s labours. But, when the Hun has met his fate, And we, evading rice and slippers, Depart the parish church in state, The latest thing in bridal-trippers ; When War and “frightfulness ”’ are not, And Krupp is impotent to scare us, To some remote and restful spot A surplus Zeppelin shall bear us.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Jury 28, 1915.

THE WATCH DOGS. 2 XXIV. < My pear CHarLes,—The week's battalion communiqué runs :—‘ Thurs- day evening. Our Henry was vigor- ously attacked at 6.30 bya hostile shell of a highly explosive nature ; but after a somewhat violent engagement he won. While the casualties on our side were limited to damages to a cap and waterproof coat, the enemy shell was completely annihilated.” My first | thought was ‘t Poor old Charles! He will have to listen to a lot of talk about this.” Even then it cecurred to me that you might think I was attaching too much importance to what is, after all, one among many millions of “crumps ;”’ at the same time I felt that sufficient importance never could be attached to that blinding, deafening monstrosity which landed at my front door at 6.30 pipp emma (as the signallers would say), and then and there had the one great expansive moment of its career. To think that, even if it had been a yard ‘to the left and so eliminated me, the official communtqué would still have run: “ Thursday. Nothing of import- ance occurred on the Western front!” A dozen shells had already burst in our area, and we had not complained. It is the little attention which the enemy is used to paying us of an evening, and upon which we have come to look as our special perquisite, claim- that trench No. has the most adequate shell-service in the neighbour- hood. As usual, I had withdrawn into my dug-out and was, for the tenth time, rearranging its interior, making a place for everything, putting everything in its place. When your floor, walls and ceiling are naked earth, there need be no limit to the tidiness of your home;

| if, for instance, there is no place to put your stud, you take your jack-knife and carve a little niche in the wall; there you have your recess for officer’s stud complete. At the passage of the twelfth shell I had housed everything, and I should have gone out, assuming the danger to be past, had it not occurred to me that I had omitted to provide accommodation for myself. I was moulding the floor to fit that peculiar thing, the human body, when black darkness, accom- | panied by a lot of red light, smoke, _ earth, stones, hot metal and pieces of ' waterproof, arrived ; the noisiest arrival I ever recollect. In the débris only one thing was visible, a sheet of a current journal showing the heavy- leaded legend, What is High Explosive ? I was extremely annoyed and anxious immediately to inform the responsible | person how surprised I was at the

attitude he had seen fit to adopt. In calmer contemplation, I convinced myself that what had happened was probably something after this manner :— A long way behind the German firing line, in comfortable ease and security, there would be three people, Major von Thingummy, O.C. the howitzer battery; Lieut. Fritz, and Sub-Officer No. 9999, one of the strong silent sort with an undue sense of his own import- ance. The Major, fat and spectacled, would be sitting at his dug-out door, reading his evening paper and cursing himself. for ever having invested his money in the Hamburg-Amerika line ; the Sub-Officer would be polishing his buttons preparatory to firing his sal- voes ; Fritz would be fussing round the guns generally, preventing the men from doing their work. At 5.55 P.M. precisely, Fritz and the Sub-Officer |

“Then fire them again, my lad.” “But we have fired twelve rounds, Sir, and scored several direct hits.” “Then make it a baker’s dozen and give ’em another for luck,” the Major would say, smiling outwardly, but being inwardly a little tired of Fritz and the Sub-Officer and their direct hits. “ What at; Sir?” Fritz would ask. “Any old thing,” the Major would say, starting once more on the evening news, and because (and only because) orders are orders, the pair of them would go away, stuff a shell hastily into one of the guns, let it off without taking any aim at all to speak of . . . And that would be the shell about which I am making all this fuss! . I should have said that my cap and waterproof coat were hanging just out- side my dug-out. The cap was pierced in several places, the coat torn to ribbons. The cap I now loan (at a would fall in, dress by the left, march | price) to officers going home on leave some few paces to the Major’s dug-out, salute, dress by the right, and stand to attention, waiting orders. The Major, having finished the last page of his paper, would turn over the leaves and start again at the beginning, a way which soldiers at the Front have with their newspapers. After an interval, ‘“‘ How many rounds shall we fire to-night, Sir?” Fritz would ask deferentially. The Major would go on reading ; Fritz would clear his throat; the Sub-Officer would stand to more attention than ever. ‘ How many rounds shall we fire to-night, Sir?” Fritz would repeat in a slightly louder voice. “No, thanks . . . yes, please,” the Major would say inconsequently, not taking his eyes off his paper. There would be a tense pause; eventually the Major w6uld put his paper across his knees and, closing his eyes, would settle himself down to his preprandial nap. Fritz and the Sub-Officer would stand it as long as they could, but when the Major began to snore their patience would give out, and, saluting very ironically, they would depart to do their firing on their own. [ooking very solemn and fierce about it, they would loose off their dozen rounds, doing no more harm, if they did but know it, than to inflict a nasty gash on a not very important sand-bag. The noise would wake the Major, who would summon Fritz and the Sub- Officer to him. “By the way,” he would say, “isn’t it about time for our evening splash? You’d better loose off the guns . . . not that I believe we ever hit anything, but war is war and we must be Frightful.” “The guns have been fired, Sir,” Fritz would say. | thing else.” | the following note:

who desire to create a sensation. ‘“ My dear boy,” their relatives ask, ‘‘ what- ever made those holes in that cap?” The officer assumes an air of indif- ference. ‘A shell,” says he truly, and adds hastily, “ but let us talk of some- The coat I have returned to the makers, Messrs. Burding, with ‘“‘Sirs,—This ecat having come, as you see, to a sudden end, but myself being happily still with you, I ask the sordid question, who is going to bear the expense of replacing it? Four names suggest themselyes— (1) Henry—a non-starter. (2) The British Government might, but would take a twelvemonth making up their minds, during which time it might start raining again. (3) The German Government ought to, but probably haven’t the money. Anyhow I can’t ask, because we are not on speaking terms. (4) Messrs. Burding oughtn’t to, but if they liked to try I’m sure neither (3), (2) nor (1) would stand in their WAT «++ With my men, whom by the way Il met coming to look for me with an entrenching tool, you will be glad to hear that all is well. They have, how- ever, relapsed into their old vice of digging, night and day, in out-of-battle hours. Sometimes it is ten men with ten spades, sometimes a hundred men with fifty picks and fifty shovels, some- times even more. This has inspired | my platoon poet to a further effort :—

‘* Tf all the troops with all the tools Should dig for half-a-year, Do you suppose,’’ our Captain asked, ‘* That then we should be clear ?”’ ‘*T doubt it,’’ said the Adjutant, Knowing his Brigadier. HENRY. ———

Yours ever,

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| bloodhounds worry themselves JULY 8, 1915.]} ‘* Now, ‘‘Ricut. ANpD, 1F 1’mM NoT TO _ PUNCI 4 IN THE EVENT OF A FIRE OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 89 BREAKING OUT, WHAT ARE YOU TO DO?”’ BE FOUND, WHAT THEN?”’ — BE WIS SaviteQRns Sr1r.”’ Srr.”’ ‘*RUN AND FIND YOU, ‘*PuT OUT THE FIRE, ON THE SPY-TRAIL. 1z. Jimmy says the War has come quite close to his house; it’s the Volunteer Training Corps, and they drill in a field at the bottom of Jimmy’s garden. The’ milkman is mixed up in it, Jimmy says, and it was through watching the way he did it that Jimmy’s bloodhound, Faithful, caught another German spy. The milkman told Jimmy that some | of them found it very complicated, but to him it was a mere fleabite in the ccean, as you might say. Lots of things are like that to Faithful, Jimmy says, things which would make other a lot. Jimmy says the milkman has twenty- seven inches of his own to move in, and an extra six or seven they give him on either side, because of his activity. The milkman takes off his jacket and waistcoat to do it because it is so hot and it helps his pores. Jimmy says that the first time the sergeant. told the milkman to dress he went to put his clothes on again, and what the sergeant said made the milkman mark | time like anything. Jimmy says the milkman | good at marking time, and it’s because lof his high action. doesn’t admire it much, though, and he told the milkman that when he wanted him to do a clog dance he would give the order. | Jimmy says the milkman likes “ as- ; you-were”’ best; he is a good as-you- werer, because when the sergeant gives the command he hasn’t got to do any- \thing except smile a welcome at the others as they return to him—you see the milkman was all the time, why. that, Jimmy says. You have to anticipate the word of command by listening to the caution, Jimmy says, and after the command the | milkman always laughs and shakes his | head and says, ‘“1’m wrong, sargint,”’ just like that; “I’m wrong, sargint,” he says. He is a happy little soul, the sergeant says. Jimmy says the sergeant hasn’t known the milkman long, but he took to him the very first night after they had numbered off. The milkman had said he was “ No, 114, next to the post | office,” and now the serjeant talks to The sergeant. ' said. that’s | The milkman is very quick like 'but the milkman marks time, is very | him quite freely as if ‘he had known him all his life. He uses the milk- man to demonstrate with; he asked him to show the others which was his right hand and which his left. You see he didn’t know the milkman was left- ' handed ; the milkman told the sergeant he was born like that, and it all depended on which arm you were nursed on—he had a cousin like it, he Jimmy says it is very nice to sit on a fence and listen to the sergeant giving the words of command; the sergeant shouts out, “Hip! Hop!!” and ever so many of them form fours, because he is so very good at that, and he believes in sticking to what you know. Jimmy says the sergeant swears by the milkman ; you can hear him doing it. KircHENER said that recruits want six months at least, and Jimmy heard the sergeant tell the milkman that he deserved more and would get it if he had his way. Jimmy says that Faithful likes to see the milkman on active service, and he helped him to stalk a sheep. You see, they had mislaid the milkman on the right and told him to take an object to

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Juty 28, 1915. SSS WAS ss Se at gee Fond Mother. ‘‘Isn’t THE WaR DREADFUL? AND £O AWKWARD WHEN POOR DEAR SYLVIA IS JUST COMING OUT.” march on, Jimmy says the milkman fixed his eye on a sheep which was standing there biting grass at him, and Faithful helped him to track it down. Jimmy says that sometimes. the sergeant gives the command, “ Hip! Hop! by your right!” and off they go. Then he says, “ No 3, rear rank, is out of step,” and the milkman kicks the man in front of him hard on the back of the calf and gets into step in no time, and then the sergeant says, ‘ No talking in the ranks.” The milkman says war is a terrible thing. Jimmy says they had a lovely time one evening. It was when they had formed fours and were doubling. Jimmy says the milkman was in the middle of the column; you could tell him by his high action, which made his head bob up and down. They were going hard at it, Jimmy says, when the milkman suddenly bent down to tie up his bootlace.° The milkman is very quick like that, Jimmy says; he doesn’t like to lose any time. Every- body who could fell over the milkman, Jimmy says, and you should have heard the sergeant Hip! Hop! Jimmy says he could see that Faith- ful liked this part of the manceuvres, and he waited for the milkman to do it again; but the milkman soon after- | wards put out his hand to talk to the| sergeant, and when he told the sergeant, “T’ve burst me braces, sargint,” the! sergeant let him go. | Jimmy says he dogsn’t think they are going to loose the milkman at the} Germans yet, as he is not quite ready. | You see they haven’t given him a rifle and bayonet yet, and the man next to the milkman says when they do he is| going home. Jimmy says you could hear old Faith- | ful giving the words of command to himself all that night, and when he| took him out on the spy trail, nearly | the first thing he did was to double| Jimmy says the man went an awful whack, and banged the bag hard on the ground as if he meant it. Jimmy says Faithful immediately manceuvred over a wall, and then everything began to happen. The bag burst into flames and the man danced about. The man tried to explain to the people that it was a box of fusees. They were very strong fusees, Jimmy says, because they had a | flame two feet long. “Bit windy where you come from, guv’nor,” a man said. Then someone else said, ‘ Looks like a bomb. Give her a kick, Bill, and see if she ’ll go off.” Jimmy says the man seemed in a round a lawn and all over a kitchen! hurry to catch his train, because he garden, taking his time from a cat,| upset a little girl who was pushing to which kept just a few feet ahead of him. | get to the front to see the bomb go off. It doesn’t take Faithful long to select an object to march on, Jimmy says. Jimmy says there was a man running to the station in a hurry to catch a train; he had a bag in his hand and didn’t know there was a blocdhound | Jimmy says it was one of these things you put in a factory or a ware- house, and then you see nice photo- graphs in the papers showing you a policeman guarding the ruins. The milkman was very pleased when P going through military manauvres,| Jimmy told him how Faithful had and that he was just engaged in active! copied some of his manoeuvres. He retreat before a heavy shower of flower- | said he found that it came to him quite ots. | natural like. All you had to remember Jimmy says Faithful came skidding} was to keep your feet at forty-five out and stopped right in front of the| degrees, and you could always tell by man, not to tie up his bootlace, but to| the feel of them even without a ther- scratch himself. mometer to go by.

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_ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Juny 28, 1915. 7 Ae 2 == i— 7 4 if} SAL Vt es / / 7, fy! r Fa i YW A of / : / ‘ f 4 SS REE. — —S ; fi: WN \\ \\WAY | \ Sy SA) \\ ~~ \ SV SOs \ ‘ S NY SYR nrny SASS A FRIEND IN NEED. Germany. “WHO SAID ‘GOD PUNISH ENGLAND!’? GOD BLESS ENGLAND, WHO LETS | US HAVE THE SINEWS OF WAR.”

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Juty 28, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. -~ eo IIouse of Commons, Monday, July 19th.—In days when whist was played there was in currency a decree ‘‘ When in doubt lead trumps.” Adapted to- day by succession of Governments, Liberal and Coalition. culty play Luoyp GrorGe”’ is the variant. It came into use early in his career, Which commenced at Board of Trade. Since then it has governed Ministerial action with increasing regu- larity. Difficulty of the hour is the strike in South Wales, affecting 200,000 men and dangerously limiting supply | of fuel vital to the Fleet. Runciman, in official position at Board of Trade, has wrestled manfully with the diffi- | culty. His mediation baulked by a ; & few men who, cleverly evading sub- | mission of case to the ballot, com- ; manded the situation. This watched from Germany with gratcful glee. Worth the loss of a colony here and there. In some measure com- pensates for clearance from the seas of its cruisers, irresistible in attack “ When in diff- | Another Leek in his Cap. (Mr. Liroyp GEORGE.) /upon unarmed merchantmen and un- 'defended coast towns. German Press |makes no attempt to hide exultation at ! discovery of this unexpected ally in inner fortress of the enemy. Deadlock reached this | Prolonged, painstaking between Board of Trade and South | Wales miners come to an end. Next ‘move will be sharp tussle between |the law and law- breakers. Cabinet |Council met at noon, with result com- /municated by RuncrMAN in an aside ‘interpolated in speech on moving | Second Reading of Bill limiting price | of coal. | Lioyp GeorcE is going down to Cardiff to talk to the men, not to- morrow but this very evening. General cheer welcomed news. PRrE- |sIDENT oF Boarp or Trape, having | made his speech, excused himself from morning. sitting through discussion of the Bill. | | Off to Cardiff by 6.10 p.m. train in | company with Minister oF Munitions. | House agreed that on the whole this | more useful than listening to speeches. negotiations | ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. (EXTRACTED FROM THE Diary oF Tory, M.P.) | Gave him parting cheer for good luck ‘as he hurried off to catch his train. Business done.—Coal Prices Bill read second time. Lords’ Bilk advancing by a week opportunity of killing grouse in | Scotland shelved. | Tuesday. —In half-empty House 'Prime Minister moved Vote of Credit | for 150 millions, third in current finan- |cial year. Instinctively adapting him- |self to circumstance he spoke in con- | versational manner. His voice so low it seemed that here and theve he \dropped an odd million or two. But ‘what were they among so many ? Ominous feature in matter-of-fact story is the regularity with which |expenditure outstrips Votes of Credit. Estimated that 250 millions, voted on ‘Ist of March, would carry on the War ‘until second week in July. By end of _June every penny was gone. Some of them wasted on the loaves of bread DauzieL saw bobbing about on | the water when, one of a Committee of |Inspection, he visited big ship upon which German prisoners were interned.

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94 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. [Juty 28, 1915. BEFORE THE War. REVERSION TO TYPE. First WEEKS OF War. AN alte Mitte. “7% Back TO THE OLD FORM. Odd in view of almost passionate: injunction to economy addressed to general public by Ministerial authori- ties. Explanation offered simple if not fully satisfactory. The thing, Member for Kirkealdy was told, happens every day with regularity of rising or ebbing tide. War Office insists upon sending more bread than can possibly be used. So it is chucked overboard. That by the way. When, moving one of the earlier Votes of Credit, PREMIER named a daily expenditure of three millions the House gasped. Wonderful how, in imitation of the eel in disciplinary circumstance, we grow accustomed to the inevitable. This estimate, like all others (including the cost of bread), has been exceeded. PREMIER now admitted that daily ex- penditure “ may be substantially more than three millions.” A Vote of 100 millions might reasonably be expected to carry us on till end of September. As a matter of precaution 150 millions asked for. Business done.—F¥resh Vote of Credit heartily agreed to... . . Wednesday.—The lead of trumps won the game. Lioyp GrorGE back from Cardiff this : evening, . bringing _ his sheaves with him in form of settle- | ment of South Wales strike. A great achievement adding fresh renown to} brilliant career. Minister or Munr- TIONS is the last man to overlcok, or minimise, value of spade work done by | Runciman during last three weeks. Telegrams from Cardiff received at House make it clear that Welsh miners net disposed in that direction. At meeting of delegates where settlement | was signed and sealed, PRESIDENT OF Boarp oF TRADE met with ovation second only in enthusiasm to that which | greeted MinisTER oF MuniTIons. Rather lively time with Questions. TENNANT declined on public grounds to answer one put by HigHam. HIGHAM! persisting, SPEAKER supported Minister, | and was rebuked by ARTHUR MARKHAM. Bytes of Bradford, waking up to knowledge that the country is at war, | assumed part of Little Wilhelmine. In- | vited Primz Minister to state “what they killed each other for?” Old) Kaspar—I beg his pardon; I mean! the PremreR—referred inquiring mind to a speech delivered by himself at Guildhall on Lord Mayor’s Day, and to other pronouncements made since opening of the War. Business done.—Colonial Office Vote passed after interesting review of situa- tion by Cotontan Minister. Thursday.—In reply to Question Prime MInistEer gives particulars of casualties in the Dardanelles. Of men and officers killed, wounded and missing the roll totals 42,434. This to end of June, and here we are two- thirds of the way through July, fighting going on by day and by night. Figures appalling. Exceed the total of casual- ties suffered throughout long course of the Boer War, which amounted to 38,156. And the campaign at the gate of Constantinople, illuminated on sea and land by the splendid courage of Navy and Army, is in measurement but a few fathoms’ length in the far-flung battle line. And the full tale of British loss in the East and in the West forms an item comparatively small in the con- tinuous slaughter of French, Germans, Russians, Austrians and Italians. Never since wars began was there such a holocaust. Since he ascended the throne the Katsrr’s highest ambi- tion has been to excel NapoLEon’s record. When he has _ undertaken personal direction of events in the field he has fallen infinitely short of his

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yi- 's Juty 28, 1915. t ro) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. 95 S N NN USF ISSN G /; RS SJ i ‘Neg aS) U/) BN ti = a A, (ZZ i, FF Z A = HA \ Captain, “ HvuLLo, THERE, MurpHy! WHY ARE YOU GETTING ON SO SLOWLY WITH THAT DUG-OUT?” Private. “FatrH, CAPTAIN, THE ROOF IN THERE IS THAT LOW I’VE GOT TO COME OUTSIDE AND SWING ME PICK, AND THEN WALK IN AND HIT UT!” great exemplar. But in the matter of| wholesale slaughter and the infliction A LEGEND OF: THE RHINE. of untold misery on mankind he has (German bakers are now producing cakes the satisfaction of knowing he far ex- ceeds the record of the earlier Scourge of Europe. Business done.—In Committee on| Price of Coal Bill. | | “The Sotsman, in an indignant criticism of the ignorant opposition to the Grouse Bill . . .’"—Evening News. The Evening News, we believe, also opposed the Grouse Bill, but that does not justify it in insulting its Scottish contemporary in this way. | ‘“There are, nevertheless, the Bulgarians, the Roumanians and the Greeks to be con- sidered, and Balkan monarchs cannot, like William, say ‘ Sic valo sic jube.’ ’’ The Newcastle Daily Chronicle. Wituram of course is capable de tout, | but we are not surprised that such lan- guage sticks in the throat of respectable | monarchs. | “Time is on our side. Men, money, and | munitions are ultimately on our side. Who is there to deny that we cannot win ?’’ Dublin Daily Express. Well, Mr. Punch does, for one. with “Gott strafe England” on them.) YounG Heinrich at the age of ten, An offspring of the Huns, Joined manly hate of Englishmen With childish love of buns; And so it filled him with delight When bakeries divulged A plan whereby these passions might Be both at once indulged. In fervent love of Fatherland Young Heinrich swiftly brake The patriotic dough nut and The loyal currant cake ; To guard his hate from growing less Through joy at this repast He saved—precocious thorough- ness !— The “strafe” bits till last. Alack! his well-intentioned cram Cost little Heinrich dear; Disorder in the diaphragm Concluded his career ; To find out why he passed away They bade the doctor come, And “strafe England,” so they say, Was printed on his tum, ‘On May 9th, during a heavy bombard- ment, we exploded all the furnaces simul- taneously, with the result that almost all the barbed wire entanglements at Chevauz Defries were destroyed.”—Ceylon Times. This place does not appear in our war- map, but is probably in the neighbour- hood of Point d’Appui, whose capture was recently announced. From a sale advertisement :— “RECKLESS REDUCTIONS. Broad Stripe Pyjama Suits, Soft Material. Sale price, 5s. 6d. per suit; 2 suits for 20s.’’ Glasgow Evening Times. The advertiser must have thought the prospective buyers rather soft material too. ‘*A peacemaker here created a violent dis- turbance in the front of the hall. He was in evening dress, but a Socialist in khaki made a run at him, seized him by the waist, and begun to hustle him, kicking and struggling, towards the doors.’’—Globe. The peacemaker in the evening dress appears to have mistaken his vocation. ‘*Red Setter Dog, 20 months, barks perfectly.’’—Irish Times. Just the animal to put up the young birds. trained,

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96 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [JuLy 28, 1915, THRIFT. “Iv’s a pretty word, isn’t it?” said Francesca, as she emerged from her morning paper. ‘‘What’s a pretty word?” I said. “Oh, can’t you guess?” she said. ‘“ Everybody's talk- ing about it. It’s in one syllable, you know, and it goes with a regular snap.” “Yes,” I said, ‘some words are like that. You just pronounce them fiercely and you get an idea that you’ve actually done them—I mean that you’ve done the thing the word means; you understand me, don’t you ?—and later on you wake up and remember that you’ve only pronounced it, and perhaps, after all, you haven’t even pro- nounced it right, and—you take my meaning, don’t you?” “T’m struggling,” she said. ‘“* Many women would have given it up, but-I’m not one of that sort. I’m a born wrestler. No, don’t tell me. I’m getting it. The light ’s beginning to dawn. What a thing it is to have a husband whocan’t explain himself. It keeps one’s mind from rusting.” “Oh, stop it,” I said. “ What’s this pretty word of yours, anyhow ?” “Guess,” she said. “It'll be good for you.” “Munitions,” I said quickly; ‘“ Economy; Borna ; Explosives ; AsquiTH ; Subscriptions.”’ I paused for breath. “All wrong. I told you it was in one syllable.” “So you did. Shells; Coals; Trench; Frencu ; Vosges ; Rheims; guns; bombs. What, no nearer? I give it up.” “You’re not much of a trier,” she said, “and your vocabulary is painfully limited.” “Let me know the worst; I insist on it.” “Well, then,” she said, “ it’s ‘ thrift.’ ”’ “«Thrift’?”? I said. “Is that your wonderful word ?” “T never said it was wonderful.” ‘No, but you led me to suppose it was wonderful.” “That ’s because you’re one of those strong brave men who must be led and can’t be driven. Do you think I’ve lived with you for seventeen years without finding that out?” Francesca,” I said, “is it yeally seventeen years ? has gone like a flash.” “Yes,” she said, “it has been rather flashy. But there’s ‘| Muriel, you know. She'll be sixteen before you can turn round.” “T don’t want to turn round. I want to stay as I am. It’s these turnings round that do all the mischief.” ‘Hear, hear!” she said. ‘ But you can’t prevent Muriel from being sixteen.” “No,” I said, “ worse luck. And after that she'll be seventeen, and then eighteen, and she’ll have her hair up and she ‘ll want to have new frocks; and then Nina will come along, and after her there’ll be Alice, and after Alice there'll be Frederick, and they'll all be getting older all the time and wanting to spend more money, and not know- ing anything about the income-tax and the rates, and the price of butcher’s meat and all the other delightful things that I’ve got to think of from morning to night.” “Don’t be a pessimist,” she said. ‘ They ’ll turn out all right. Who knows but they may help you to save money. Sometimes children are like that.” “Yes,” I said, “in books, and ours are not bookish children.” “ At any rate,” she said, “ we can teach them the mean- ing of thrift.” “I don’t think I like thrifty children,” I said. “'They seem to be against nature. And, as for Frederick, he has already confided to me that when he grows up he means to spend all his income on silkworms. At present he has only two, and their names are Herbert and Robert. It Herbert has already spun himself in, but Robert shows a strange apathy, and no amount of mulberry leaves and | scoldings will tempt him to the great adventure. Frederick | is becoming very gloomy about it.” “Bless him!” said Francesca. “All my sympathies,” I said, “are with Robert. a cardboard box, nothing would induce me to turn into a helpless chrysalis.” “But you’d want to be a moth, wouldn’t you?” “T’m not so sure about that,” I said. “You'd have to be, you know, you wouldn’t be asked.” “There you go again,’ I said. ‘“ You always shatter my brightest visions. Why can’t you let me dream I’m a perpetual silkworm ? ” “ Adorable dreamer,” she said, “let us talk about thrift.” “Oh, bother thrift,’’ I said. “Well, it’s a nice patriotic word, anyhow.” “Patriotic ?”” I said. ‘ How do you make that out?” ‘No German could pronounce it, not if he tried ever so hard.” “No, by Jove,” I said, “ nor he could.” “ He would call it ‘ drift,’ ” she said. “Or ‘ trift.’” “ Or ‘ srift.’ ”’ If I} were a sleek silkworm, with free rations and the range of | 4 “And that shows,” I said, ‘that the German is not so dreadful after all. can’t get any nearer to it than ‘ drift ’"—— “ Or ‘srift.’” “Or ‘trift’— well, he’s only ridiculous, after all. shall polish him off all right, Francesca.” “Yes,” she said. ‘“ But the Germans’ ridiculous pro- nunciation won't help us. We've got to be thrifty.” “ Or ‘ drifty,’”’ I said. : “ And everybody else has got to be thrifty, too.” “Then that’s all right,” I said. the same boat.” ‘““Good,” she said; “ we'll talk it over now.” “No,” I said, ‘we won’t. gracefully, without talking about it at all. cigarette, and I’m not going to have one.” A man who wants to say ‘thrift’ and ” We I want a “ And I,” she said, “want a hat and I'll refrain from it.” | “T’ll wager,” I said, ‘you don’t want your hat half as much as I want my cigarette; and, now that I think of | it, they ’re paid for and I may just as well smoke them. | They ’re old cigarettes, and yours would be a new hat.” “Tf you smoke that cigarette, Ill buy that hat.” “That ’s most unjust,” I said. “No,” she said, “it’s most thrifty.” R. C. L. SUMMER AND SORROW. Brier rose and woodbine flaunting by the wayside, Field afoam with ox-eyes, crowfoot’s flaming gold, Poppies in the corn-rig, broom on every braeside, Once again ‘tis summer as in years of old— Only in my bosom lags the winter's cold. All among the woodland hyacinths are gleaming ; O the blue of heaven glinting through the trees ! Lapped in noonday languor Nature lies a-dreaming, Lulled to rest by droning clover-haunting bees. (Deeper dreams my dear love, slain beyond the seas.) Lost against the sunlight happy larks are singing, Lowly list their loved ones nestled in the plain ; Bright about my pathway butterflies are winging, Fair and fleet as moments mourned for now in vain— In my eyes the shadow, at my heart the pain. “We shall all be in | Let’s do it naturally and |. ee

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Juty 28, 1915.) PUNCII,

OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 97

y) 4 Sl ON / J), A Vj 4s (ff YW /4 Y Ns \y ‘ NY \ <3 \¥ . b NA 4 Ve" Wy

BOSSES DNS NS WAY we N \ \ IY Near-sighted Old Lady (a keen Recruiter). ‘““Now LooK AT THAT YOUNG FELLOW. A COUPLE OF MONTHS IN THE ARMY WOULD MAKE A NEW MAN OF HIM!”

THE FOUNT OF INSPIRATION. You ask me, Araminta, why my pen, Whose airy efforts helped me once to win you, Has, since you made me happiest of men, Apparently resolved to discontinue Its periodic flights And steadily avoids the Muses’ heights. I too have wondered. Are connubial cares Antipathetic to divine afflatus ? Ye‘ many a bard has piped his liveliest airs After surrendering his single status ; Or can it be the War That ’s been and dried me up in every pore ? Darkling I groped for light, but found no ray ; Chill with despair, I almost ceased to seek a Way through the fog, when suddenly to-day Like ArcHIMEDEs I exclaimed, “ Eureka!” I found indeed the path This morning as I lay inside my bath. For yesterday to rural scenes you fled And left me, duty’s slave, to desolation ; To-day I sought my tub with measured tread And spent an hour immersed in contemplation, Just as I used to do Ere yet in beauty side by side we grew. No urgent call to breakfast broke my rest ; Serene and snug I heard the quarters chiming, And, as the brimming waters lapped my breast, Almost unconsciously I started rhyming ; Then through my mind it shot That thus were all my master-works begot.

Straight from the slopes of Helicon the stream Poured through the tap its music-making shower ; Each floating bubble held a precious gleam Which grew to glory as a lyric flower ; Idly I laved my curls, And from the sponge there dropped a rain of pearls. Therefore, when back you hasten to my side, Place this, my love, among your resolutions— Though eggs grow chill and bacon petrified, Never to hustle me in my ablutions ; And, to redeem your fault, Order me several tins of Attic Salt.

For our Wounded. Will those of Mr. Punch’s readers who have a gramo- phone to spare. (or even not to spare) please send it to our wounded in hospital? Soldiers love a gramophone. Gifts of instruments, or the money to buy them, should be addressed to Mr. L. H. M. Dick, 15, Buckingham Street, Strand, W.C. ‘‘GABRIELLE (Norfolk).—We believe it is possible to graft eye- lashes on lids which are devoid of those ornaments. The operation, however, must be very painful, as the eyelid is sensitive. Many a patient has gone to the oculist under the impression that his eyes were paining him, when all the time it was the eyelid. We should advise you to make up your mind to go through life without eyelids rather than undergo excruciating pain. After all the majority of people will never notice the defect.’’— Tit Bits. Don’t you believe it, “Gabrielle,” but take Mr. Punch’s advice and hold on by your eyelids.

An old song adapted to Women- Workers :— ‘*La donna é mobilizzata.”’

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98 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [JuLy 28, 1915. AT THE PLAY. “Att Scorcn.” I HAVE long held the heterodox view that no people on this earth have so strong a sense of humour as the Scotch. For the humourist must be judged not only by his rapidity in seeing a joke, but by the intensity of his receptive powers when (if ever) he does see it. | And it is in this latter gift that the, Scotch excel. Unhappily Mr.Grarran, at the Apollo, would have us believe in their possession of the former faculty, of which their worst enemies would never accuse them. In a rather diverting scene between an Edinburgh man and a Glasgow man, where each in turn points out the more contemptible fea- tures of the other’s city, the author must have let off as many as six crushing repartees per minute. This frank defiance of statistical ;~— records made all the other! improbabilities of the play | seem relatively credible. | In a private despatch (in-| tended for publication) seal Grattan had foréwarned me that his work would contain | no “high - explosive topical | allusions,” and I will grate-| fully admit, to his credit, that | it bore no resemblance to a‘ revue. It just consisted of a| few detached episodes illus-| trative of Scottish habits as! they are, or as they might! be if popular traditions corre- sponded with the facts. if These episodes were not} uniformly flattering to Cale- don:a; indeed there were moments when I was well satisfied to be an Englishman. Yet if you ask’ me, “Stands Scotland where it did?” I will at once reply that I have allowed nothing in this play — to shift her by one inch from the place | she holds in my profound esteem. Nay, I will confess: that from time to time I felt how my heart would have swelled with pride if I had had the right to wear one of. those seductive clan-tartans ; or tread the purple heather | of the admirable scenery with native foot; or claim, by kinship of race, the privilege of communion with the honeyed brogue of Miss JEAN AYLWIN | or of a glance from the glad eye of Miss Marie Buancne (how her very name rings of the Highlands!). In the despatch to which I have alluded I was further forewarned that All Scotch was “ designed to cheer but -not inebriate.” And in truth it was not a very heady blend, yet to one who has never yet faced “a nicht-wi’ Burns”’ an evening of All Scotch is no light Z Court Dentist (to Kaiser). TAKE GAS? matter. And, speaking always as an{nel overhead, and an occasional shel! Englishman, I think it might have! bursting near the ramparts and splat- been made more palatable by mixture | tering round muck—at intervals some- with a little “ allaying Thames.” one quite close to you crumpled up O.S. | pathetically—and, drowning it all, the | perpetual booming of our artillery pre- | paring for the attack . And then [It is commonly predicted that the War [there was Perkins—Perkins with his will effect a permanent change in our litera- ‘red, oily face and little waxed hair- ture, but the following specimen, whose pub- dressery moustache, ostentatiously con- | lication we are permitted to anticipate, shows | ce; aling a greasy letter, and muttering that we still have a literary genius who does | ‘to himself in pure Cockney when e not propose to alter his methods for this or | any other war.] | thought anybody was listening, ludi- 52. Sen Weanm Wik | crously sentimental and quite genuinely = ‘affected by his own sentimentality. (W ith acknowledgments to Mr. H. G. One of his puttees had slipped down. WELLS.) I caught that her name was Bertha. Ir was all very curious and disgust-| I suppose I was horribly frightened. ing, you know. Incredibly, even now, One doesn’t like admitting it in any véien I try to set down my impressions particular instance, though no reason- of that day, my first in the firing- -line, | able man would hesitate to own that it’s all the little, incidental, unmeaning | he probably would be in like circum- ‘| stances, so long as they re- mained hypothetical; just as ‘the class of people we call respectable revel in going to church and assuring the Al- ‘mighty, with or without musi- cal accompaniment, according to sect, that they are the most despicable of reptiles defacing the earth, but are apt to get | stuffy if on the way home you accuse them of snoring during 'the sermon... But I was too !busy watching myself in a ee Tt queerly detached way for it to matter muich—watching to — see how frightened I was going to be, and wondering " Witt THE Most Omsirotext | whether I was any worse than —______'the others. And over it all, details that stick in my mind, jumbled | you’ know, there was a curious un- up with the jolly things that matter | reality, a sort of glamour . . . One enormously, i in a queer, tangled sort of | realised that behind the muddling way, it’s true, but quite disconcertingly | and shuffling of the people who hide and préposterously vivid for all that. | their incompetence under officialdom * I want to give you the idea of those|and call it diplomacy, in spite of the main, basic things, but if I tried to| stupidity and grooviness of the author- unravel it all I don’t think I should get | ities, and the quite intolerable waste of it right; so I shall just jot everything | the whole business, there was some- down inconsequently in the confused | thing extraordinarily fine in it all . order in which it comes, and trust that! And then, quite suddenly, the inter- it will-cleat itself up in the process,|vening space was dotted with funny that the image I want to produce will little khaki splotches, running wildly emerge more distinctly out of the | and falling and jumping up and shoot- haze... .. |ing and jabbing—I mechanically with Outstandingly, in the first place,|the rest; at least I suppose I was. I there was mud—mud and smells and | ‘certainly no longer had time to be empty tins, and a queer, pungent, | | frightened. I think I just lost my wholly unsuitable and astonishingly | head; at home I should have broken natural atmosphere of rough jesting—| crockery ; there I did my best to break topping, honest, garlicky stuff that|}heads. Ridiculously, I chiefly remem- people like archdeacons affect to con-| ber trying not to squash some bluebells sider coarse ; but very, very good for us. |—there was a little glade shimmering Incidentally there was the noise—| with them in our path—and wondering sporadic, aimless little splutters of rifle; at Perkins. Perkins was having the fire- from the opposite trenches, the | time of his life; he won the V.C. And melancholy whine of bullets and shrap- | we gained 123 yards os ee LITERARY FORECASTS. TACTLESS QUESTIONS.

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el: at- 1e- up he re- en 1is ir- n- ng he od. ny n- at n- as ll to 1. si- 1g ig go Is = ae SO KH Jury 28, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 99 & -~ “Cee ‘ f See AIR cg, RE an ry « he eee = : —9 7 Stoker a Artist (to model he has just picked up in the street). ‘‘A MAN I HAD UP HERE THE OTHER DAY STOLE TWO POUNDS WHEN MY BACK WAS TURNED. WOULD YOU DO A THING LIKE THAT?”’ Model. ‘‘Ou no, SiR; you SEE, I ’AVEN’T THE SPEED.”’ | politely bored till a really alarming indisposition of poor OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. | Tony stirs the placid lovers to an emotional crisis in which (By Mr. Punch’s Staff of Learned Clerks.) ithey engage themselves each to each. As was to be My private impression is that when Miss 8. Macnavautan | done. A pleasant book, but, I am bound to add, somewhat had finished her latest book she found herself at something | Soporific in its placidity. of a loss for a title. And at last she may have fixed upon | Some Elderly People and Their Young Friends (SmrrH, | No doubt you remember Maria, that so successful ELpER) as the only one that described a story in which|creation of Mrs. Jonn Lane. If so, you will be glad sUE d : J, " nfs as L « cute. pues peas so, } 5B character is everything and incidents never occur. Indeed | to learn that in Maria Again (LANE) she bobs up as serene, I foresee difficulties in the future, when, for example, one | self-satisfied and suburbanly sophisticated as ever. Age neighbour at dinner asks, ‘‘ Have you read Some Elderly | cannot wither her, though, to be quite honest, I did fancy People, etc.?”” And the other, being uncertain, replies, | that custom had somewhat staled the effect of some of her “Is that the book where they ...?” and can’t go on,/charm. Only some; for the most part she is all and more because, as a fact, they do nothing whatever, any one of|thanall heroldself. As before, it needs copious quotation to them, except sit about and be charming. There are two} do justice to her conversation, her comments and her general groups of characters: Miss Crawley, who was forty and attitude towards life. “1 know it’s Wagner if the orchestra could remember crinolines in Scotland (this statement /makes an awful noise and the lights are put out, though drew a passionate protest from me till [ was overcome by | sometimes I wish they weren't, for there are bits in evidence) ; her married sister, Mrs. Darling, and their two} Wagner when it’s a real rest to read the advertisements ag“ _ — and a os, pea er oon gong This — 7 ered : annoy. are the elders. 1e@ young friends are rs. arling s| thought the best chapter, a wholly delightful account o ° y . . . ." | . daughters, Mr. Beamish’s niece, and their respective swains. | a performance at Covent Garden, which I defy anyone There is also a younger generation still, represented by|to read unmoved. Of course in real life one would Master Tony Darling, who is seven and passes a pre-| detest Maria for the very qualities that here make her occupied “agg! - = — . age gegen and “on a hie ae ey ge r my | = systems of diet. And, as I say, there they all sit, prosper-| LANE thought fit to pen a graceful little apology for her ous, happy, and very agreeable society—if you like South | revival under present conditions, in which she quotes a Kensington. The greatest event in the book is supplied by | true saying about the “duty of cheerfulness.” Maria, as Miss Crawley’s renting of a desirable country house (with | recorded here—and especially as depicted in a delicious Y; & et Paoser + | beams and a jolly garden and glazed chintz furnishings),| drawing by Mr. Lewis Baumer—certainly makes that . - . | . . whither the entire coterie remove themselves and are|duty considerably easier. And one can always console = eS

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100 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL [Juty 28, 1915.

oneself with the half-hearted belief that there are no|Miss Suarp here as ever uses her art frankly as a weapon, Marias left now ; and the sanguine hope that, if there are and it is quite possible that if (for example) you delight in any such, there. may always be a satirist as shrewd and | her Pali Mall mood, the atmosphere of the Herald may witty as Mrs, Lane to deal faithfully with them. | find you indignant, not to say outraged, and the other way — — |about. Personally, 1 own that I enjoyed the author best “ Punch is the main thing in life, without which I will} when she is least controversial. ‘The Wounded Tommy,” not even try to exist. If I were very poor, I would go which is simply a record of soldier character as seen in a short of three pennyworth of food weekly rather than miss French hospital, haunts one by its direct and unmanipu- Punch.” Thus, and more, Miss Bearrice Cuasg, in her lated truth. It is, 1 may add, among the few studies in new book, Through a Dartmoor Window (Lonemans), and | which the Vote and the Female Problem are successfully after it what can Mr. Punch, that most gallant of gentle- | avoided. men, do but bow, hand on heart, and return the compliment? | As a matter of fact, no one of those who were delighted, Perhaps you know Mr. Horace Hurcutinson’s pleasant with this writer's former book, The Heart of the Moor, will, formula. A very slender plot, a sense of fresh air and need any introduction to another moorland volume from’ comradeship with bird and beast, characterisation not too the same pen. Miss Case writes with the fervour of a! laboured or precise, the frankest tangents and parentheses true devotee. Every real lover is worth hearing about the (an argument here, a lecture there), a faint, judicious beloved (though I am aware that there exists a prejudice flavour of the classics—rather a naive and easy-going sort to the contrary), and it is the same with Miss Cuasr when of scheme, escaping on the one hand any too rigid severity

she writes about Dart-;~ ces oe aioe a Mili, F$Ze zee % artistic discipline, and , Why j Ye ee moor. She has an in-| | VA) , sf “We *Zz \om the other avoiding timate and sympathetic ‘ fs ‘ ‘fatuity. And, as I say, knowledge of her subject quite pleasant. In The which enables her to transfer its charm to paper with unusual — success, | though her attitude of mind may demand some slight allowances on the reader’s part. Miss Cuase’s Dartmoor geese are swans to the last bird; ' and when, for example, she depicts herself and her mother (whom I somehow wish she would not call Z The Rainbow Maker) as; 9) > Zee - 5 | Faun and the Philosopher |(Hutcutinson) the Faun | is a camper-out of colonial | extraction, and with de- formed ears so pronounced that they are likely, he | thinks, to present a diffi- culty in courtship, a diffi- ‘culty, by the way, which |is shirked by the author. _I think myself that had ‘I been the beautiful and sensible Mary I shouldn't 'have minded his pointed

= a ee : | weeping at the departure ——_— WEEE. Sa Uy ears, covered as they were ~~ ems Oa ny > — . . < of the workmen who had BOP ns DOE Ps with serviceable wavy been rebuilding their 660°" *@5- == curls, half so much as his deplorable habit of hand- ing you out a copy of house, I could not but feel The Sand Sculptor (to enquiring Visitor). “I’m MOSTLY SELF-TAUGHT, | that her experience had, Si. Bur I must apmir I Go To LONDON NOW AND AGAIN AND SPEND A DAY IN TRAFALGAR SQUARE FOR INSPIRATION. I OWE A GREAT DEAL il svay J i 7 sag 2 nd been not so much unusual | 2) gp Epwin Lanpsprr.” verses on all possible a as unique. But one must | a leanne —_..!some impossible occa- take these lovers as one finds them; the good qualities of|sions. It is a habit that would not have tended to endear the book more than counterbalance a little amiable ex-| itself by constant repetition. aggeration. It is so full of the clean, heather-scented air ———_—_——_—— of the moor, of wind and sunshine and wide spaces, that, If your appetite for War-matter is unsated by facts and to lose oneself in it is a holiday for the heart. Personally,| you feel inclined to take it in the supplementary form of reading it over tea, I wondered discontentedly at the fiction, I can vouch that Mr. Dovetas SuapEN in His absence of Devonshire cream. That shows you what! German Wife (Hurcutnson) has catered for you up to, and atmosphere can do. | possibly beyond, your powers of absorption. Granted the ee mood to enjoy a novel based upon the War, this ought to be

PO sie

Miss Evetyn SHARP, whose work I have admired ever of her later sketches into a volume, and called it The War of All the Ages (Stp@wick anv Jackson). There is, I fancy, something more in that title than meets the eye. I should be astonished to hear that it refers chiefly to the battlefields of Europe, though there are soldiers in plenty throughout the book. As for the sketches themselves, you perhaps since the days of the old Yellow Book, has collected sundry | your book ; but if you are in no such mood—as I am not— I advise you to pass if by on the other side. Mr. SuapEN |has indeed worked the War for all it is worth, but how- ever violently some people, with or without reason, have suffered from the spy mania, I protest that the treatment | here accorded to Captain Isherwood’s German bride is too | paltry for belief. In a note “To the Reader” Mr. SuapEen | States that, “though its action is chiefly after the outbreak

know already the skill and the caustic, almost brutal, frank- | of the war, and though it has its tragedies, His German ness that may be expected in the telling of them. Perhaps,| Wife is in the main a love story, enlivened with ironies.” though, as a friendly warning, I might call your attention | My trouble was that the ironies entered into my soul, and

to the acknowledgment of leave to reprint, from which you will learn that the contents of the volume have previously appeared in such diverse publications as The Manchester Guardian, Pall Mall Gazette, Herald, Votes for Women and

Morning Leader. This warning is the more needed since | Byre-lane, Gateshead-on-Tyne.”’-—North Wales Weekly News. left me far from lively.

‘*‘ Here we are Again.” ‘‘Crowns IN Stock. Low prices for quantities.—Clown Works,

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| partment is evidently mak- j ing good progress. From an ; Admiralty | has felt justified in remov- | spur Street, 5.W. Auaust 4, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON. CHARIVARL 101 CHARIVARIA. “Subsequent to the publication of the Note to Germany,” says a con- temporary, “it became known that President Wilson had asked for reports on the subject of national defence to be made to him. personally by the deads of the War and Navy Departments.” This type of official seems somehow familiar tous. 4 .. The Yaqui Indians in the Mexican province of Sonora, a cable informs us, have declared war on Mexico, the United States, and Germany. Austria and Turkey, it is said, have informed Germany that she can rely on their help should it be required. % Patents have been granted in Wash- ; ington for an aerial torpedo {~ boat. which is designed . to swoop down on war-ships | in land-locked harbours and | fire a torpedo at a distance | of five miles. We under- | stand that the first of these | boats which is constructed | is to be called “The Gee- | Whizz.” Lord FisHer’s new. de- announcement we learn that the Board’ of Inventions and Research ing to Victory House, Cock- We are in a position to deny the report that, when the Prince oF WALES, the other day, attended a concert given by the non-commissioned officers of the Guards’ Brigade at the Front and joined in singing the Marseillaise and the National Anthem, the rest of the audience, out of respect for His Royan Hicuness, followed on a bar behind him. Snob-Press, please copy. The latest theory—and a very credi- ble one—about the Angels who are said to have~been seen at Mons is that they were Hospital Nurses. The Austrian Government, the Vienna Fremdenblati tells us, has re- fused to accept the German proposal of a Customs Union. Frankly, we are not surprised at this. Some of the German customs are so beastly that we do not mind how old a joke we make about them. “Germany must be true to herself,” Says the Deutsche Tageszeitung. We \ suppose this is better than being true to no one. ei¢ According to a message from Am- sterdam, some Allied airmen recently dropped a bomb on: the house in the neighbourhood of Brussels where Ger- man astronomers work out the meteor- logical conditions for the Zeppelins. Not only were a number of costly in- struments entirely destroyed, but some of the dear old astronomers had their spectacles broken. * % “One of the most arresting details in connection with the season’s wrap coats,” we read, “is the prevalence of pockets.”” It is characteristic of the unpractical nature of the mystics who are responsible for women’s fashions that this reform should be introduced THE TERROR OF THE DEEP. Worthy British Matron. ‘‘YounG MAN, HOW IS IT YOU HAVEN'T ENLISTED ?’’ at a time when people have ‘nothing to put into their pockets. A telegram from "Philadelphia states that Mr. J. Wanamaker has proposed that the United States should raise £200,000,000 wherewith to purchase the freedom of Belgium. The German Crown Prince is said to favour the proposal, suggesting that he and Papa should share the sum, Papa taking only one-third, as he has made so much already out of Krupp’s. Extract from Southern Command Orders :-— ** Ali mules on joining units will in future be malleined.”’ The last word relates, we believe, tu inoculation against glanders, but the correspondent who sends us the extract is evidently better acquainted with raules than with veterinary termino- logy, for he writes, “‘ Personally I do not believe that it is possible to malign | a mule.” Our Greatest War Lord. From The Westminster Gazette :— **Von MAcCKENSEN HELD UP. ENEMY CHECKED IN ATTEMPT TO ADVANCE FROM THE NAREw. THanks to Lorp HaALpane.”’ GRAND DvkE Nicwowas (to his Chief of Staff). Is our little father HaLpane present ? Chief of Staff. Yes, Excellency. Granp Duke Nicuoras. Then let the battle begin. From an article on Thrift :-— ** What we want most as a people is to get a fresh grip of the old homely adage: ‘Take care of the fence, and the hounds will take care of themselves.’ ’'"—Daily Sketch. This excellent advice must have ema- nated from the Treasury Whip. |. “An advertisement in a Ger- ‘man newspaper for a governess who speaks fluent German is the basis of a violent attack by | the Cologne Gazeite on the lack of patriotism among German women. ‘Whoever has lived long enough and looked round enough,’ says the semi-official newspaper, ‘will never wonder at anything German women do.’ ''—Sunday Paper. Most of the Germans we ‘have met looked round enough, but we. never heard even the least cor- pulent express surprise at a woman speaking her own ‘language with fluency. ‘*The discipline of the young German recruits is not very . ood, and many mild punish- ments are inflicted. It is reported that some twenty soldiers have been executed at St. Peter's Barracks.”—Bris‘ol Times and Mirror. Really severe steps will be taken, we understand, if the insubordination con- tinues. ‘*A poultry expert who has been giving his thoughts to the problem of how to reduce ex- penditure has conceived the idea of a hun-run in every back yard in our far-flung city."’ Scottish Evening Paper. A Hun-run in every yard of the far- flung battle-line would be even better. ‘*Sir Robert-Roe, senior M.P. for Derby, was knocked down by a horse in Wardour Street, London, on Tuesday. He was recovered from a somewhat alarming position, and though somewhat dazed and bruised he was little the worse for the mishap. Sir Thomas is now almost in his usual health again."’ Irish Independent. Congratulations to Sir Ronert (or Sir Tuomas) on having escaped with a merely nominal injury. ‘*Yanrnns for Soldiers’ Comforts will be greatly wanted in the Autumn.” Morning Paper. Perhaps Mr. Krpuina will oblige. VOL. CXLIX.

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Avaust 4, 1915. [ THE WAYSIDE CALVARY. Auaust 41TH, 1915. Now with the full year Memory holds her tryst, Heavy with such a tale of bitter loss As never Earth has suffered since the Christ Hung for us on the Cross. If God, O Kaiser, makes the vision plain ; Gives you on some lone Calvary to see The Man of Sorrows Who endured the pain And died to set us free— How will you face beneath its crown of thorn That figure stark against the smoking skies, The arms outstretched, the sacred head forlorn, And those reproachful eyes ? How dare confront the false quest with the true? Or think what gulfs between the ideals lie Of Him Who died that men might live—and you Who live that men may die? Ah, turn your eyes away; He reads your heart; Pass on and, having done your work abhorred, Join hands with Jupas in his place apart, You who betrayed your Lord. O. §. UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER. No. XXV. (From Kine PETER oF SErstia). Sir,—Between you and me there cannot, I suppose, be any comparison. You have great possessions; I am but a poor man. You are vigorous and age has not yet set its mark upon you; I am broken by sickness and am bowed down by years. You command the allegiance and the resources of a great and mighty Empire; I am the chief of a race of peasant folk living a life of toil and hardship in a corner of Europe. In every point of wealth, power and comfort you seem to have the advantage so manifestly on your side that your superiority over me cannot be brought into controversy or doubt. Yet, when I reflect, I feel bound to tell you that, old and poor and broken as I am, I would not for all your riches and all your power and all the adulation of the parasites who surround you and acclaim your Olympian magnificence, change years and stations with you and be even as you are now. You will not understand this. Whether you sit at home in state or parade abroad amid the pomp and glitter of arms, wherever, in fact, you are and in whatever character you choose to appear, you seem to yourself so gloriously and so indisputably the centre of the universe that you cannot imegine how those who behold you or hear of your deeds can refrain from praise and envy. ‘ Here,’’ you say to yourself, “is a being selected by the Almighty for the happiness of mankind. Let mankind realise his splendour and his virtues and submit themselves humbly to him, lest they be shattered against the iron wall of his might. Un- questioning obedience is the highest merit when there is a man fitted to receive it. Can any man be fitter than he who reigns under Divine authority as German Emperor ?”’ Thus you address and persuade yourself, now posing as the stern father of your country, now as the ruthless and immitigable autocrat prepared to trample down his own and other people and to hack his way through justice and civilisation to the enforcement of his will on those who have rashly presumed to withstand him. When Austria sent her legions against us and overran our country, leaving a track of fire and devastation behind her 102 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. to mark the stages of her progress, we were steeled to resist her by the knowledge that we were also fighting against you; and when, by a marvellous achievement of Serbian discipline and valour, we had hurled her forces back and scoured Serbia clean of them, we rejoiced all the more be- cause our efforts had struck a deadly blow at your arrogance as well. Had it not been for you Austria would have paused on the brink of war and might have recoiled from it alto- gether, but your policy would thus, you thought, have suffered a rebuff, and therefore you cast your vote for blood- shed and plunged the nations into the horrors in which they are still struggling. Some day history will record her verdict —not certainly by the pens of German professors—and you among the rest will receive the allotment of responsibility that belongs to you. Nothing you now do can affect this, for when the verdict is uttered your unquiet spirit will long have ceased to trouble the world, and those who gave you the incense of their flattery will also have submitted to silence. How will your memory stand then? Is it not possible, nay, is it not certain that in that great day of revelation and judgment you will be recognised as the one man who might have saved the world from blood and tears, and refused so to save it because his vanity had suffered a hurt ? So far Serbia has been able to defend herself with suecess. She is determined to do her utmost in the future, because, poor as she is and small as are her resources, she has a burning love for freedom and a bitter hatred of oppression. Germany and Austria may do their worst. They will find our people ready both to fight and to endure. Great material forces are against us, but we shall oppose them in proud reliance on the justice of our cause and on those great spiritual forces which have more than once turned weakness to strength and have beaten tyranny down into the dust. Receive, Sir, this my salutation, PETER OF SERBIA, OUR WILLING WORKERS. THanks to the intelligent anticipation of a clairvoyant member of his staff, Mr. Punch is enabled to forestall the answers which, under the new system of National Regis- tration, certain prominent public men are about to return to the question: What work they are prepared to undertake in addition to their present occupations ?— Mr. Winston Cuurcuitt.—Would willingly undertake the work of any State Department, Admiralty preferred. In that case would prefer to go to the Peers with the title of Lord Dardanelson. Lorp X.—Ready to attack all Ministers in the Coalition Government in rotation, Mr. Ramsay MacDonaup.—Would undertake to serve as shikari for tiger-shooting parties at the Zoo. Lorp Dunravenx.—Would act as literary agent for the supply of additional verses to the “ National Anthem.” Sm Henry Dauziet.—Prepared to stay on and talk in the House during the vacation if he can get the charwoman to listen to him. No Use for Mounted Infantry. ‘“*Woman CARETAKER. Mother and daughter preferred. No young children on animals.’’—The Bath Herald. Another Impending Arology. Underneath a photograph in Sunday Pictorial :— ‘The Countess of -—-, one of the most charming women in the social world, sets no limit to the amount of her work for war charities. She is sometimes to be seen lunching with friends at the Carlton.”’

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ist ist un nd e- ce ed ve in in es PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Aveusr 4, 1915. | m | Z am a | 4 EOE: OT at "| ‘ FIL Se 4 LEZ f Z, ae {| A. Lz H twit MULE CAN | 4 — _— oa re : = = = Mise: | m — “C7 || J ie ——- ane = ! Ga } es ZZ > : o _ ae — 4 / 3 ! | ' = =, = I ie K \ Tinh Bas tereeenea! a =! AMERICA | 3 A a Ss J to ai Z > HH —_ es SP. WOO MQ QA xX | SS = = . | | | of, 4 Y H i= | Y BY WAY OF A CHANGE. Uncte Sam. “GUESS I'M ABOUT THROUGH WITH LETTER-WRITING.”

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104 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. {Aueust 4,:1915. we § LITERARY FORECASTS. {It is commonly predicted that the War will effect a permanent change in our litera- ture, but the following specimen, whose pub- lication we are permitted to anticipate, shows that we still have a literary genius who does not propose to alter his methods for this or any other’ war.] Tue Moan oF THE HILLs. (A Play in One Act, composed for the Trish Players.) . DraMaTis PERSONE (IN THE ORDER IN WHICH THEY APPEAR) :— Bridget O' Farrell (Herself ) ; Seumas O’ Farrell (Himself) ; Michael? Farrell(Himself’s Father); A Stranger. A Goat. A Policeman. Scene—The O’Farrells’ cottage near Ballysmuttan, Co. Wicklow. They are at tea, Herself (rising and leaning out of the door), There’s rain in the sky and there’s rain on the hills, and there does be rain in my heart this night, Seumas O'Farrell. Himself (absent-mindedly). Do ye or five ye’re afther’putting in my tea? Michael O'Farrell. It’s a hard thing surely to be poor. Herself (petulantly). I said, there does be rain in my heart this night, Seumas O'Farrell. Himself. What makes ye think that same at all? (Herself makes no answer but gazes again out on the moor.) Mebbe (he bites) ye’d betther (he drinks) dhraw close in to the fire if that’s the way ye are. (She does not stir.) Is it no sinse ye have in ye at all, woman? Sure wasn’t there Patsy Mulligan up the glen, him with the two eyes crooked on him,-the way the wan would be looking «at your head, and the other wan would be looking at your feet, and you not knowing which the divil ye’d be minding—wasn’t there Patsy Mulli- | gan, I tell ye, who died and the docthor from Blessington said he had wather on the—(scratches his head.) I mis- rimimber now rightly where the wather was, but it might aisy have been the heart. I nearly did be saying on the brain, but sure Patsy niver had wan, and even a docthor’d know that, wanst he clapped the eyes on him. He died anyway, I’m telling ye, and ‘him letting the queer talk out of him and screeching something dreadful, with the sthrange curses that'd shear a flock of sheep; and, be the same token, if it wasn’t himself stole the ewe on me come Michaelmas twelvemonth it’s no bad seran to him I’m wishing. Herself (dreamily). I mind Patsy. Himself (growling). Ye may say that! It’s too well ye minded him at all, and if it wasn’t for that blessed wather he mind that? Is it four spoons of sugar | ’ might have been stealing more than the ewe on me. Herself. Will ye hold your whisht ? Michael O’Farvell. It’s a hard thing surely to be poor. [Herself comes in and kneels by the Sire, leaving the top half of the door open. The Stranger appears out- side. Stranger. The holy Saints be with ye, lady and master of the house! Herself and Himself (together, now in their element). Welcome kindly, Sthranger. _ [He enters. Himself. Will ye sit ye down by the fire, Sthranger, and Herself will give you a cup o’ tea. Michael O'Farrell. It’s a hard thing surely to be poor. Stranger. That’s a thrue word ye’re saying. Thank ye kindly, master of ; ‘the house. (He sits, takes the tea and looks at it thoughtfully). It’s a far way I do be afther coming, and it’s a hard road, so it is. Herself. Would ye not be taking a dhrop of the stuff, Mr. Honey ? Stranger. It’s yourself has the good heart, lady of the house. (He puts away the tea with alacrity and gulps the whisky she gives him.) May the holy Saints preserve ye from the things I’m afther seeing ! Herself. It’s the terrible wild day it is surely. Is it from Lacken ye are? Stranger (hurt). Wasn't I telling ye it was a far way I did be coming, lady of the house ? Herself (awed). Was it iver from the with the big shells, ploughing up hills | that ye wouldn't hardly cross in a day's | march; and rivers of blood where all the great ships in Dublin harbour | might be sailing abreast. Herself. It’s the beautiful talk ye have entirely, Sthranger. I suppose now (looking at him with reverence) ye’d have killed a man? Stranger (with relish). Ye may say that! Sure, wasn’t I shooting them be the thousand and making mighty tosses with them on me wetted baynit, like ye’d toss hay on a fork, and the | German Kaiser amongst them? And | the Kina he came up to me, and I was nearly tossing him up too, I was that ‘in the way of it, and he says, “Put it ithere, Tim my boy,” says. he.: “It’s ‘the fine lad intirely ye are,” says he, “and it’s the Victoria Cross I’d be giving ye,” says he, “if it were good enough.” [Stage darkens. Enter Goat in lime- light, jumping over the lower half of the door ; it advances to centre. Herself. Will ye shoo out of that, ye ‘ould divil, and not be intherrupting the beautiful talk. (Zit Goat.) It’s the | terrible dhrought ye must have on ye _afther all that, Mr. Honey. Stranger. Thank ye kindly, lady of the house. (Drinks.) (Rising) It’s |on the way I'll be going, and a far way it is, and a lonely wan. | Herself. It’ll not be a lonely wan, |Sthranger, for it’s meself ‘Il ‘be going | with you. dix Stranger (visibly’ alarmed). What Churches ye came, and the wind and | way would ye be doing that af‘all, lady | the rain moaning through the heather, of the house? It’s the fine man ye and the hills crying out like hurt things, have, and the hard time I’d be giving | the way they minded me of our sheep that got the staggers last Midsummer ? Himself (spitting contemptuously). It’s the fine talk ye have! . Michael O'Farrell. It’s a hard thing surely to be poor. Stranger (complacently). It’s a farther way than that same, lady of the house. Himself. Where is it ye’re from ? Stranger (impressively). It’s. from the War I am. Herself. Which way ’s that at all? Stranger. In Flanders. Himself. There’s no place that name in County Wicklow. Is it Rathdrum ye’re thinking of? Tom Shaughnessy was telling me at the Fair at Lacken there was throuble there with the agent when the boys had the dhrink taken on them. It’s the wide-thravelled man Tom Shaughnessy is! Stranger. It is not, then. It’s the big War I’m talking of, over the seas, where there do be more men than at all the fairs in County Wicklow, and they all fighting and firing their guns ‘ye, what with cursing and_ beating and Michael O'Farrell. It’s a hard thing surely to be poor. ° Herself. It’s coming with you any- way I am, Sthranger, and seeing you } do the fine things and hearing you say ! the beautiful words. [A knock, and a Policeman enters without waiting fer an answer. The Stranger huddles up by the fire with his back to him. Policeman. Good day to ye, Seumas O’Farrell. Was there e’er a man, wan | Tim Murphy be name, passed this way? | (Seeing the Stranger, goes over and turns him round.) Himself, by the Holy! | Tim Murphy, I arrest you in the King’s name, and it’s me duty to—— Herself. What are ye saying at all? | Isn't it himself’s the great friend of the Kine’s, and him making mighty | tosses with his wetted baynit of the } Germans ? Policeman. Is it Germans? Sure | it’s two days only he’s out of Kilmain- } ham jail, and it’s the day he robbed |: =

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Martha Cassidy’s till in Blessington, |think that your best boy ought to put If he hasn’t she couldn’t shout. for sneezing; and |done so, is he worthy of your love?” a to the station with me he’s} Tue Arrran to SHame.— Forty er ot ; ' Years Hence, what. will your grand- aes ee _ a. - Pe children say to you as they clamber on hi = eauta’ eis ou’) your knee? ‘Grandpapa,’ they will @, Aim. [Rreunt all but Himeclf 1) 88Y: ‘how much did you give to the for Mi hi ut a unsel’ ane" Great Loan?’ Will you hang’ your Micl Pr nig O'Farrell. hi (head in shame, or will you be able to nee arrell. It’s a hard t ung ' answer with head erect, ‘I gave fifteen surely to be poor. ‘shillings’ ?” “You're proud of your pals in the i War Loan, of course; but what -do your pals think of you?”

GOVERTISEMENT. (Being the art of Government by Advertisement). “Be a real sport and shell out a Ir seems, from the hoardings and; crown!” the sides of public buildings, not to} Tue Appran to ConscieNce.—‘ Is mention P.O. vans, that there is to be| Your Conscience Clear? .When you a plague of posters imploring us to lend take up the weekly pay envelope, when 5s. to the Government. In order that you enter the saloon bar, when you the epidemic may run a rapid course! stand in a queue at the picture palace “To Country Gentlemen: butlers and gamekeepers are in the! habit of receiving tips. It is your duty: ito intervene and invest those tips in! the War Loan. Your country. will: thank you, and your servants will! thank you.” “ To Business Men : sidered your duty towards your office-: boy? Should you not stimulate thrift; White-haired mother and twenty-year- that my son hung back witli five shillings while the sons of other mothers gave their tens and twenties.” Tue Appeal Facetious.—“ Plank: your five bob on the favourite for the Grand International Final!”

we suggest that the limit be proceeded | waiting for a fourpenny seat, does not to at once after the following fashion,! Conscience tell you where the money | as already exploited for another end :— | ought to go?” é | THe Appean ImMPERATIVE.— Oleo- | THe APPEAL TO Duty.—‘ To House- graphic portrait of Mr. McKenna,! wives: Has your maid put 5s. in the} looking stern. Index finger prominent.! War Loan? Is it not your duty to urge | “It’s YOUR Money I Want!” iher to do so? And if she will not be | THe Aprrat Romantic.—“ To the} urged ought you not to dock 5s. off| Young Women of England: Don’t you | her wages?” ! of fing y g “ Have a five-shilling shy at KAISER. Biuu!” “ Line up for the scrap, boys! Every bob a bullet! Every quid a bomb!” But possibly the Government may. feel that they have already illustrated the method sufficiently before the eyes of an astonished world.

Your: Have you con-. by paying him in War Loan vouchers ? : Make this a condition of employment.” Tue ApPeAL TO MATERNAL PRIDE.—* old son. ‘“ My lad, the way of duty is: hard. But I would not have it said:

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106 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. {Aueust 4, 1915,

THE ZEPPELIN BAG. Ar the coming of the Zeppelins, mother announced that it was our duty to “take steps,” and her cautionary zeal burns with ever-increasing flame. Every time that she takes her walks abroad she meets different friends, and comes home to recount fresh ‘steps ” which it is our duty to imitate. Mrs. A. has taken down a tea-basket to the cellar. Mrs. B. has placed buckets of water | the bomb fell at the front door?” all along the hall. Mrs. C. goes to bed in her—— “Rings!” concluded Emily hastily, | twirling the diamond cluster on her | ‘So do I, and I’ve sewn | third finger. new pink ribbons on my dressing-gown | and bought the duckiest cap to match. No one can say I am unprepared !” The Zeppelin bag is the; patent institution of Mrs. D. | It is a bag or portmanteau, | packed and strapped, and| placed in such a position | that it can be seized with- out delay, in the course of! a frenzied rush fo the front door. There is no difficulty , about the bag; the trouble | comes in when you begin’ to consider what to put) inside. The Mater’s first | motherly idea was a comb, | a tooth-brush and a set of | warm underclothing foreach member of the family, but | the suggestion fell flat. It | was felt that the Zeppelin | bag ought to be reserved | for personal treasures, representing, as it were, the inmost sanctity of family life. “What about a few bottles of the old port?” said Father. “When one comes to the elemental moments of life, one’s sense of values is altered,” said Frederick, with a sententiousness bred of the Oxford Union and not yet dissipated by a life incamp. ‘ When I ask myself which of my belongings I should most grieve to leave behind, my thoughts instine- tively fly to my bath sponge! He’s such a fine big fellow; I’ve just succeeded in knocking the grit out of him and licking him into shape... . Please book a place for my bath sponge.” “And the Japanese plant,” added Florence with a gush. “The poor lamb has only lived a hundred years. Give him a chance to see the new map.” “ Before I enter into the subject of my best blouse,” said Emily sertously, “let me clearly understand where the Zeppelin bag is to live. If it is to be

the receptacle for our nearest and dearest, we must shield it from danger by day as well as by night.”’ “T had fixed on the corner between the oak chest and the Normandy cup- board,”” Mother said. “ Papa’s croco- dile bag will just fit in, and it is in the direct route for the front door. Noone could fail to see it.”’ “Suppose I wanted to go away for a week?” objected Father, who is | attached to his crocodile bag. “Suppose,” said Frederick darkly, But Mother had taken up the captive pencil and was busily engaged in jotting notes on the back of an old envelope. “Two bottles of port—Frederick’s bath sponge—the Japanese plant—my cookery book—Papa’s smoking coat—

Seaside Landlady (to visitors who have just taken her apartments). ‘* AND IF THERE SHOULD BE AN AIR RAID [’VE A BEAUTIFUL CELLAR. Burt OF COURSE IT WOULD BE AN EXTRA.”’ Query—Emily’s best blouse? . . . There will still be a good deal of room!” At this moment the postman delivered a missive from Septimus enclosing a half-yearly report of a depressing na- ture, and concluding with a scribbled postscript. ‘By the by,” he wrote, “if a Zep comes along, you might just rescue my trouser-press.”’ The Zeppelin bag was placed in the hall, with the trouser-press strapped on its back, and enjoyed a peaceful backwater sort of existence for several weeks. Mother fed it regularly at nights with knuckles of cold ham and sandwiches of Gentleman’s Relish (left over from tea), which were destined to restore our energies on the first halt of our flight. Father contributed a box of cigars, and on particularly Zeppeliny nights Emily stole along the hall in her dressing-gown and found a niche for her best blouse. It seemed an ominous coincidence that Frederick's regiment should be transferred to Aldershot on the very day that a Zeppelin passed within two counties of ‘our front lawn, and Mother’s agitation found vent in a dark and stealthy plot. | With the connivance of the garden boy she planned a false alarm, which should test the agility of the household, in | preparation for the worst. | It was all meant for the best, but | when a rain of brick-bats comes clatter- \ing in through a bedroom window at 1 am. the startled sleeper is not answerable for the consequences. | Emily fled, white-robed, into the night, accompanied by such a tornado of shrieks as brcught the whole family ‘hurrying in her wake, to say nothing of our neighbours at Highmead and Mon Répos, and a tramp who had happened to be sleeping under the hedge. We propped Emily against the pergola and scanned the heavens for the flying monster, and the tramp leapt on his clue with the sharpness of genius. “You can’t see ’im,” he said; “’e’s too high. The | nise of his ingines woke me up. Didn't ‘arf buzz! ... \[ was running to warn | eee | Father waved him away, \\— |and we turned to cross- )\\ | question Emily. “Was the bomb round like an apple? If it was | ‘round, we ought to go <4\\\\ 1) | down to the cellar and shut <i ‘all the windows and doors. - | If it was like a pear, we ought to fly for our lives. At any moment the house —__———' may blow up.” “Did you feel a strange, irritating smell ?”’ imily sobbed and sniffed sweet briar, and said she didn’t know. She was greatly upset. Mrs. Legh suggested that we should adjourn to Mon Répos and partake of a service of coffee and cake. “A little Zeppelin party!” she called it, with an attempt at lightness; but Mother said firmly, “ Not this evening ; some other evening,” and shooed us towards the front door. What precisely were her own feelings |in respect to the necessity of confession | we shall never know, for on the thres- _hold retribution overtook her. | As compensation for problematical 'services the tramp had helped himself ito his reward. The Zeppelin bag had disappeared !

‘*To Bakerns.—Wanted Deliverer. Wages 28s. per week; used to diving.—Apply Box M34, Bath Office of this paper.’’ Bath and Wilts Chronicle. The Bath office certainly seems the place for him.

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Aveust 4, 1945. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 107

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Eminent Woman Surgeon, who is also an ardent Suffragist (to wounded Guardsman). ‘‘Do you KNOW, YOUR FACE IS SINGULARLY FAMILIAR TO ME. I’VE BEEN TRYING TO REMEMBER WHERE WE'VE MET BEFORE."’ Guardsman. ‘‘ WELL, MuM, BYGONES BE BYGONES. I was A POLICE CONSTABLE.”’ (0 eee a a ARS SS ee ee Se SR —— OUR NEIGHBOUR’S DUTY. |

An Official of the L.C.C. Tramways | spirits should be replaced by an inex- Department.—* We seta public ex- pensive light British lager.”

dae hanno aria en splendid | ample of national enna: | early in A Member of the Bachelors’ Club.— give our maids less meat.””] ” | the War by withdrawing free passes “The home should be the sphere of Some further opinions gathered by | from soldiers, nurses, special constables, economy. Let every husband reduce our Special Correspondent confirm the | and the like. te | the housekeeping allowance by (say) | impression that national economy is| A Park Superintendent.—* It-is im- | 25 per cent. | now uppermost in people’s minds :— possible to keep our flower-beds look-| At the W.S.P.U.—* What about the Samuel Stoges, Esq. (M.P. for West ing nice under £10,000 . year; but | spendthrifts who smoke cigars?” people's window-boxes, that’s a dif-) 7, arayfair—« I did think of parting with my darling Pom, ‘ Tootsey,’ but | deeply at heart, and shall urge with all | the dear pet saves waste of superfluous the eloquence at my command that| - : entrées. He simply loves sweetbreads, | wasteful expenditure by local councils at the Blitzley.—* You will be so good | This should be an example to the be summarily forbidden. Unfortunately | 2S to mention the little brochure I pre- | popular restaurants, where, I am told, it is impracticable that the emoluments | Pare for the English people. She is} there is a shocking waste of salt and lof Members of Parliament should b2/ Called, ‘One Hundred Ways to Use! mustard.”

Soapshire’.—* You may state that I } ) . ferent matter. Thy don’t they grow have the matter of national economy ferent matter. Why don't they gto vegetables ?”’ Monsieur Dindcnineau, chef -en-chef

| curtailed.” Potato Parings.’” | rp P Le »kep ’ Ss’ * A Member of the L.C.C.— There are Rw I oe o tne , Jor key Club. Another Impending Apology. 4 . . pe ‘é so |e al rT < re | reasons, wuich in the public interest! * top t a se oe eee Headlines from a morning paper :— . s : . | y » y ”) a y ‘ it is undesirable to divulge, why we| An Official of the Kennel Club.—*It | “Gen Give eve thee should continue to employ what you|is, in my view, a disgrace to waste term ‘a battalion of able-bodied men’|™oney over mere cat shows at a any 0 ildi . j] | of national crisis.” : “3 agp ager of our new aa ig : - = i | How the War affects Prices. all ; y ; re s-| . / ‘ewer.—* The rement is eane ‘ull; but we are strenuously dis-| Srewer 1 movement is AN « Remarkable Value in good Longeth, smart couraging building -enterprises on the excellent. one, and has my thorough | collar, trimmed Swiss Embroidery-and -Inser- part of private individuals. japproval. In these critical days, heavy ; tion. Usually 8/6. Sale Price 57/11." __. From tur Earn or DUNRAVEN”

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. [Aueust 4, 1915. Badly-wounded Tommy. ‘‘I NEVER REMEMBER SUCH A QUIET Bank Howipay, Mum. TO ME MORE.”’ EZ Vi tm Uf of 2) “aaa ) \ os i/ BB a y ‘ \ VEL, SL SamPa. ~. SoMEHOW NOTHING ’S BROUGHT THE WAR HOME THE GENTLE SLACKER. Wirx idle rod And head a-nod, I sit beside the river ; Flows like a dream The placid stream, With surface all a-quiver. Though war's alarms May call to arms The summons finds me wary, For I refrain From causing pain (a nibble) Except when necessary. Of despot kings And Huns and things Some men you hear conversin I give such talk A miss in baulk, No unkind thoughts rehearsing. The tented field Delights may yield To natures sanguinary ; But J refrain From causing pain (a bite) Except when necessary. a DBD? The throb of drum May have for some A charm there’s no resisting ; It only serves To rack my nerves And keep me from enlisting. Let others go And smite the foe With tunes of Tipperary, But I'll refrain From causing pain (extracts hook) Except when necessary. SAVING GRACES. In Peace time, when to tea-shops forth I fared And haughty maidens served my Lenten platter, How coldly on the needy bard they stared, But now their kindlier glances soothe and flatter, And say, “ Poor boy, in England’s hour of need He won't allow himself a decent feed!” My Mavd, again, how flatly she refused, Excepting after dark, to walk beside me! No more abusing, as she then abused, My tramp-like garb, nor wishing night to hide me; } | ‘ “That’s it,” she says, in tender tones that thrill, “Buy War Loan, dear, and dock your tailor’s bill!” No more, as once they did, do passers-by Describe my dwelling as “The Blasted Ruin ;”’ But “Lo, here lives a patriot,” they cry ; “While Britain needs her every mite to do in The KatsEer’s war-hordes and the guns of Krupp, He simply will not have his house done up!” Cedant arma togae. ‘«The Mayor bore testimony to the unfailing courtesy of the military authorities, who are most anxious not to incommode the public more than is absolutely possible.’’ Hampshire Advertiser. ‘*Far away out, 30 miles from .Rouen, at the Horse Hospital he met a Beckenham postman who spotted him the minute he put his head on the platform.” Beckenham Journal. Personally we never get out of a train that way. _—

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Aueust 4, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 113} erm — = — | ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. (EXTRACTED FROM THE Diary oF Topy, M.P.) > etn 4 \ over Sy BRST a all — The Mother of Parliaments. “* AND DO YOU REALLY THINK, Docror, I OUGHT TO TAKE AS MUCH AS SIX WEEKS’ HOLIDAY?” Dr. Punch. ‘‘ Every Bir oF 17, MADAM; EVERY BIT OF IT. House of Commons, Monday, July 26th—RaGc, Tac and Bosra, M.P.’s all (widely advertised place of business below Gangway),deeply hurt. Premier proposes that, after term of attendance at Westminster extending with brief intervals over two years, House, having | put itself in order, shall adjourn till mid-September. That will never do. come of Rac, Tac and Bosratt, deprived of cheap effective means of emerging from native obscurity and looming large in Parliamentary Reports ? With artful aid from epoch-making newspapers, storm got up in VParlia mentary teacup. R., T. and B. have no concern for themselves. What they view with alarm is prospect of a Coali- tion Government free from restraint of mentors below Gangway leading country into irremediable disaster. Fact that in case of emergency Parliament may be summoned within a week—to be precise in three days—immaterial. At Question Time they went straight for Premrer. On what date did he propose to ask House to reassemble ? Answer awaited with intense interest. If Prime Minister yielded to organized What is to be- ja! M Lied I: Kol APL \y — u Hull! * ” clamour inside and outside House, it} through the coming winter, benefit the would save time to hand straight over | small consumer.” Runciman blushed. | to Rac, Tac and Bosra direction of | Business done—Price of Coal Bill public affairs. read a third time. Other measures Premier’s answer did not stray | advanced a stage. beyond two brief sentences. | Thursday. — Parliament adjourned “The date on which I propose to ask | for exceptionally brief Autumn Recess. the House to reassemble,” he said, | \“*is the one I indicated last week.” When burst of general cheering TO A WEEPING WILLOW. | subsided, he added, - see no reason | HeyR Willow that I love with all my | whatsoever for altering it.” Whereat | heart, , | House cheered again. os | Oh, it is sad to see you weeping so! | Business done.—Apprepriation Bill [> watch the oil of mourning earth- | read a third time. Lords postpone | ward flow | | | | | | sonsiderati Var Pensions . : consid ration of W an Pe nsions Bill. In glistening drops that from your | | Tuesday.— Busy and brief sitting | fibres start ! ‘winding up business before setting | [ feel the cruel pang, the painful smart forth on well-earned holiday. The Of separation. er & year ago | ably-led, well-disciplined, ever-present | Together we opposed a common fee ; |Independent Party of One who bears To-day the tide of War keeps us apart. | the name of ARTHUR MARKHAM ex- iceptionally active. Varied ordinary | militant attitude by bestowing with | pontifical authority its blessing upon | PRESIDENT OF THE Boarp OF TRADE. Talking about Price of Coal Bill it remarked, “I called it a sham anda fraud when it was introduced. Now lit has been amended I believe it will, Weep not for me,sad Willow; I can bear The altered circumstance the Fates ordain. There ’ll come a season when my pulse shall throb Exultant, as with tender loving care I draw you from your oi!-bath onceagain, And face with you the yorker and the lob.

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{Aueust 4, 1915. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. > _.f — Dey BAKER _™- nt CARRYING ON. “J SAY, IF YOU THINK YOU OUGHT TO ENLIST, OR MAKE SHELLS OR SOMETHING, MY SISTER AND I ARE QUITE READY TO TAKE OVER YOUR NET FOR THE NEXT SIX WEEKS. OF COURSE WE WOULD GIVE YOU THE SHRIMPS, YOU KNOW.”’ OUT OF THE PAST. Born. as a churchman and as a human being the Vicar is very popular with us all. Out of his cassock he is a | sportsman; in it he preaches the most restful sermons of any cleric I know. His attitude on questions of ritual and the like may perhaps be in advance of a portion of his flock, but to my mind, though a little high, it is not unpleasantly so; indeed, 1 have always considered it to be in perfect keeping | with our fourteenth-century Gothic chancel windows. Besides, we have two very steadying churchwardens. From Monday to Saturday, however, there is one period of the day during which, since the War started, I have never voluntarily encountered the Vicar, much as Llikehim; and that is between 9.30 a.m. and 1 o'clock. This is what may be called his Collecting period. We have in the parish seven separate funds connected with the War, admin- istered by seven separate committees. I myself am president of one committee, my wife of another. The Vicar has a hand in them all, and insists on every-‘ on the strictest fortnightly terms, first | Tuesdays on their part and third Fridays | I said, seizing a cigarette. He handed body contributing not only to the fund in which he (or she) is particularly l'on ours; and even so we often gave interested, but also to each of the other Ithem-a miss. With a sigh I got up, six. This simple plan, he claims, in ‘took a sovereign and three half-crowns addition to furthering the general cause, ; out of my trouser pockets and locked has the advantage of minimising rivalry | them away in my desk by the fireplace. between the various bodies and so of | It was, I realised, a futile precaution to preserving alive among us the spirit | take, but there are times when a man of brotherly and sisterly love that) will clutch at any straw. A moment should characterise every Christian|or two later the Vicar entered the community. room. When, sitting by my open window} “I’m so glad to have caught you,” the other morning at about 11 o'clock, | he said warmly. I saw the Vicar open the gateandcome! ‘“ Don’t mention it,”” I murmured. | up the drive, I confess I winced. He) “T hope the waterproof sheets are 'walked slowly, and his face wore the! going well.” The Waterproof Sheets | thoughtful, half-guinea expression that | Fund is mine. I knew % well. I wondered which of | “Oh, yes, there is no trouble about ‘the Committees he was representing their going; our chief difficulty seems to-day. Probably Mrs. Jones’s, which | to lie in the other direction.”’ ‘had been recently formed to provide | «Dear me!” he said thoughtfully. .our Indian troops with embroidered ‘Now I was talking to Mrs. Jones ' pocket-handkerchiefs. Neither my wife about half-an-hour ago, and curiously ‘nor I had ever had any sympathy with | enough she- a ‘the Joneses. Yielding to the Vicar’s| “Have a cigarette,” I exclaimed entreaties, we had called upon them on hastily. ; ‘their arrival in the neighbourhood, but| He took one from the box, tapped it ‘our subsequent intercourse with them! on his palm and lit it. “1 was on the ‘had been purely formal and conducted. point of saying s “ After you with the match, Vicar,

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I | Avaust 4, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 115 it to me with a slight frown. The | Vicar is a man who likes to get to the end of a sentence. “Do you care for these? ” I asked. “They are excellent,” he replied. “I never really enjoy a cigarette except in the morning. But to return to our subject. Mrs. Jones, when I met her half-an-hour ago, was saying——”’ “One moment,’ I interrupted. “Don’t you think we should be more comfortable under the trees on the lawn? It’s frightfully hot indoors this weather.” “T’m afraid I must be going directly,” he answered. “I have five other people to see this morning, and I promised faithfully to be home again by one o'clock.” T rose from my chair. ‘So sorry you can’t stay longer. But of course we all know that your time is never your own,” He looked at me a little sadly, yet with an eye that seemed to read my very soul. ‘ Before I go,” he said, “1 | must tell you why I have come.” I sat down again. “Do,” I said weakly. “Tt is to ask you fora contribution,” | he continued. “T knew it,” I muttered. “To the Organ Fund,” he concluded. “The what?” I exclaimed, hardly | able to believe my ears. | “The Organ Fund. It has been| necessarily pushed into the background | of late, but I feel that we must not let | it go. The organ is badly in need of | repair.” - Isat in silence for nearly a minute, | while memories of the old days before the War flooded across my brain, days when the world was at peace and house- hold coal at twenty-seven shillings a ton, days when the issues of life seemed simpler and the Organ Fund a subject for really serious consideration. Then I walked to my desk, unlocked it and presented to the Vicar—no, not the | three half-crowns, not the sovereign, but a five-pound note. Mistress. ‘‘ Mrs, JENKINS, WOULD YOU LIKE SOME OF YOUR SALARY ADVANCED, SO THAT YOU CAN INVEST IN THE War Loan?”’ He left : st. directly afterwards, | ' eft almost directly afterwards, Housekeeper. “THANK You, MY LADY. BuT—ER—DO YOU THINK IT I8 QUITE SAFE? and I walked down the drive with him.|) wre xwever specuLATR IN MY FAMILY.” As we shook hands at the gate I fancy the eyes of both of us were a little dim. From the National Registration| ‘‘A wireless warning Captain Claret to take every precaution against an ovation was re- received by the operator on the Minnehaha at questionnaire, as published by a London | ; The Human Concertina. | paper. |12 noon on the day of the explosion. . ‘*Wantep, Lady Instrumentalist, who can ‘*Are you skilled in any work upon which Immediately upon receipt of the message double up with piano.’’—The Stage. | you are employed, and, if so, what?” | Captain Claret prepared for the worst."’ Montreal Evening News. He evidently knew the penalties of From a Sunday paper :— ” very nasty question. nis But I suppose the most superb example of ‘ popularity. le mot jus which the Courts ever afforded came Answer to Correspondent — | - —___—_—_—_—_—- f , ice Hawki ‘” . | . ’ . , : rom the lips of Mr. Justice Hawkins. | «To tempt a hedgehog to eat an Altrincham| ‘Green's Short History of the English We refrain from repeating the story, but ‘inquirer might try the experiment of placing | People. Complete French ed. 2 vols. 16 ft. can assure our readers that it was not | 2 broken egg in a saucer."’ (Plon-Nourrit & Cie).""—Publishers’ Circular. nearly so saucy as they would suppose | But suppose the hedgehog found the| A yard or two shorter would suit our from the description. |egg more tempting than an Altrincham? | book-shelves better.

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116 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON :CHARIVARI; [Aueust 4, 1915. THE COUNTRY COTTERS. II. Dear Perer,—-Taking it all round we like your country cottage immensely. The Crystal Palace is, perhaps, a trifle roomier, airier and better lighted, but then of course we could not have got the Crystal Palace for a pound—or did you say a shilling ?—a week ; and, besides, the Crystal Palace has no wild roses climbing. up the porch and no pump in the scullery. ‘True, your ceil- ings are a bit low; but then one always stoops when one is shaving, and one usually sits down at meal-times, and one has to lie down in bed, and one never wants to dawdle about on a stair- case, anyhow. At the same time I wonder if you would have any objection to my sawing a small piece out of the Jacobean rafter in the sitting-room— just sufficient to admit of my rising from the breakfast-fable without incur- ring daily concussion of the brain? I got up from the table this morning quite forgetting about the Jacobean rafter, with the result that the knob which I now wear on the top of my head makes the sitting-room fit me worse than ever. i Then there’s the pump in the scul- lery. Now don’t misunderstand me and imagine that I am wilfully finding fault. Pumps, spinning-wheels, sun- dials, Jacobean rafters, inaccessibility of doctor and post-office, bats, oldest inhabitant (if any), children biting the hems of their pinafores—all these, my dear Peter, combine to bring the scent of the hay over the footlights, as it were. I love them all. But I do expect a pump to have a sense of duty and convey water. What actually happened the first day we arrived, with our tongues lolling out for a cup of tea, was this. After Joan and I had in turn worked the pump-handle some five thousand times each, we merely succeeded in pumping out a spider, followed a quarter of an hour later by about an egg-cupful of a dark and sinister-looking fluid strongly impreg- nated with rust. This would have been acceptable if we had brought the canary with us. It has recently moulted rather severely, and has used up our entire stock of rusty nails. But as a basis for tea it was impossible, and Joan went away to find a quiet corner in which to die. I wasn’t surprised. A day at your pump, Peter, would make even the health of emperors ridiculous. However, your handy man, Wrighton, of whom you told me, opportunely looked in to see if he were wanted. He was. I explained our trouble to him, and he at once examined the pump with the eye of an expert—I suppose theré are pump experts? He said the leather of the plunger had perished, and he would fit another piece. Meanwhile he would fetch us some water from his private well. Now, Peter, why don’t you get a well? It would be quite in keeping with the rest of life in a country cottage, and oughtn’t to cost very much, Affer all, a well is only a hole, and goodness knows holes are cheap enough. Get an estimate from a well-sinker, anyway. While Wrighton had gone for the water I went to look for Joan. I found her lying down on the sofa in the sitting-reom in a state of utter collapse. The poor girl had had to break into the emergency -ration of chocolate-cream which she had fortunately brought with her, and was endeavouring to restore her shattered faculties by reading a copy of Country Life for December, 1911. (Your library is sadly out of date). I said, ‘‘ The leather of the plunger has perished.” To which Joan merely re- marked: “ But the silk stockings of the liftman’s little neighbour (feminine) have been saved. To-morrow we will conjugate savoir and connaitre.” This will show you the state to which your pump has reduced us. But we are getting slowly better. The oxygen cylinder has gone back to town and we no longer need to take nourishment during the night. You will be flattered to learn that we followed your advice and took a eold chicken down with us in the side- ear. It was thoughtful of you to men- tion that Tuesday was early closing day in Windleton, and that we should have difficulty in getting in provisions. As a matter of fact we did. The cold chicken left us without giving notice somewhere between Horley and Hor- sham. If you should happen to know anyone who lives between these two places you might ask him to keep an eye open (or, if he’s not very busy, both eyes open) for a cold No, never mind. It’s no good counting on spilt chickens. Besides, it’s proba- bly curdled by now. When I can spare the time I’m going to devote a little. attention to taming your wild roses. One scratched me this morning as I was going into the garden; not spitefully, mind you, but (I believe) playfully. .Or perhaps you wilfully keep them in this fierce condition to scare away tramps, just as other people keep a watch-dog? If so, | watch-roses are indeed a novelty, and I feel it incumbent upon me to stick up a notice—‘* Beware of the wild roses.” Talking of wild things, Joan wants to start a goat. Wrighton, it appears, has a spare one which he can’t use. It is too young to go as a regimental mascot, |: and he has offered it to her for the } sake of getting it a comfortab!e home. | Joan has already commenced to babble } about growing our own gorgonzola for the mouse-trap, but a goat in the Sussex | jungle and a goat in a suburban garden are two totally different propositions, | Supposing it went mad and | Peter. tossed the postman ? Besides, I happen to know it’s a buck, and no good for anything except to draw a goat-chaise or to be converted into pemmican, for neither of which we have any pressing need, I therefore propose, before the plot thickens any farther, to offer } Wrighton half-a-crown not to give us | the animal, but to do as he originally | intended and send it to the next village rummage sale to be raffled. Windleton is very charitably disposed just now, and we have lately had a perfect orgy of frivolities in the shape of sales and fétes on behalf of the various War funds. Last Saturday there was An Evening with Keats in the village schoolroom, given by Miss Mullens, one of the teachers. A numerous and costly audience, I understand, stayed at home. a very fine growth which we discovered in your paddock if we had been con- scientiously able to enter it as a mush- room. But unfortunately our joint botany broke down at the test, and there was no class for Tournament in the Vicarage garden, for which Joan and I have entered, as } we find that your effects here do not include either electro-plated asparagus- servers or.cut-glass scent-bottles. By-the-by, the Vicar has called twice (we were out on each occasion), and we are filled with trepidation, as we are not au courant with the customs of country clergymen. Will he ask us what we are? (Please wire reply). If he does, I shall say we are Bi-metallists, but that we hold very conservative | Then on Tuesday a Fruit, | Flower and Vegetable Show was held, | to which we should certainly have sent | mushstools. |! To-morrow there is-a ‘Lawn Tennis | ea" views with regard to contributing to | funds for restoring the old Norman weather-cock or for adding a vor populi | stop to the organ. Your affectionate tenant, Oswatcp. * An extract from a recent article by Colonel MAubE :— ‘‘ This is speaking of Germans and Russians only, not of the Russians and Austrians, be- tween whom there is, in fact, no comparison possible in this war, because the latter have beaten the former uniformly ever since the first shots were fired.” If the gallant Colonel has joined the pessimists things must indeed be in 4 bad way. ,

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LONDON CHARIVARI. [Aueusr 4, 1915, not,” she confessed. | “Miss Limpstone?” she remarked. marked the things at| ‘Oh, well, I suppose she has always 118 PUNCH, OR THE “T’m afraid “The secretary THE SUPER-SALESWOMAN. WueEwn Irene understood that I had | put my services at the disposal of the nearest Belgian refugee organisa! ion | | between the hours of ‘eight and eleven | each evening she was not wholly pleased. In fact she “ murmured.” “And what do you suppose that I am to do with myself every night from eight to eleven?” she demanded. I explained that there were many little things to which the deft fingers of a really clever woman could turn. Or, especially in these troublous times, the inestimable boon of a period set} apart daily for quiet undisturbed thinking. ... “Oh, all right,” interrupted Irene. Shortly after this she volunteered to take duty each evening for an insignificant and quite unofficial rival effort calling itself Ons Huis. You will at once understand the inconvenience of this plan. If I get through at the Maison Belge (ow esta- blishment) in an hour or two, I return to a depressingly deserted flat. There is, I discover, no 1hore unadaptable hour than that which lies between 9.30 and 10.30. It is too early to go to bed and too late to begin doing anything else. Things creak suddenly, too... The other afternoon I got back from the office a little later than usual and found Irene on the point of setting out. “In another five minutes we should have missed,’ she remarked, with the cheerful “ take it or leave it”’ air of the confirmed follower of duty. “ What kept you?” I explained that I had looked in at an emporium for a collar stud. “Oli,come,” expostulated Irene,“ that ought not to have taken half-an-hour.” “Tt did not. It only took half a minute. The remainder was spent in finding someone to receive the money.” “But you need not have stayed,’ she suggested. “T need not,” I conceded, “ but I did. If I had not, the whole fabric of com- mercial enterprise, as conducted on tlie most modern principles, would have fallen to the ground.” Irene for once in a way was really listening. ; “ Petar,” “I shouldn't wonder Irene is an adept at what may be called the suppressed climax. * Wonder what?” [ asked. “Oh, nothing; justanidea. I must bolt now. I am taking charge of our sale of Belgian work to-night.” “ Good girl,” I said; “ we must all put our shoulder to the plough these times.” I had heard something of their little parlour effort. ‘Going strong?” she exclaimed gratefully, | Huis. Gladys Limpstone had bazaar prices. she can charge last night, and, although be most persuasive, everyone by buying a picture-postcard.” Life flowed placidly at the Maison Belge that evening. By 9.30 I was on my way back when a beautiful idea occurred to me. down to Ons Luis, slip in, and from: a | quiet corner view the proceedings un- perceived? Then at the psychological moment I would appear before her as a customer. A modest trifle would be well spent in providing that encourage- ment. I pictured her gratitude quite touchingly. There is nothing formal about Ons I pushed open a few doors, murmured “ Het spijt mij!” when I found a family at home, and finally discovered the right room. I had not expected it to be exactly crowded, but the sight of one aldermanly person and one embarrassed youth almost put me to flight. Fortunately lrene was ab- sorbed in acopy of L’Hcho. LIreached a strategic screen without being observed. In a very few minutes I had grasped the fact that Ivene was not enter- prising. Both the customers tried occasional glances and throat noises in her direction in the vain hope of provoking an advance on her part that would enable them to cover a dignified retirement under the purchase of a postcard group. Finally the portly one approached her. “T’ve just been looking round,’’ he remarked. Irene inclined her head in gracious acknowledgment of the honour. “ Interesting stuff, but everything is pretty dear, you know,” he continued. “Very dear, if you don’t mind my saying so. “TI don't,” agreed Irene. thing is ridiculously dear.” “ Bless my soul!” he ejaculated, “you don’t say so?” The strange young woman shrugged | indifference. “Tf I don’t I express myself rather | badly,” she added. “ But’—he continued to stand | there in a fascinated helpless way— | “but this is most unbusinesslike.” “That is because attendants cannot | always afford to be strictly truthful. You see, I don’t do this as a business.” “So I judge.” There was nothing subtle about the man. “ Well, my wife had a look round yesterday, and | the young lady who was then in your place tried to make out that there never were such bargains.’ Irene smiled bravely, but you couldn’t help seeing the pathos of it. « Tvery- got off | jhad to do with very wealthy people . or unusually generous ... “That isn’t a bad little box over there, you know,” observed the vic—-I mean the visitor, suddenly. “JI suppose it isn't,” agreed Irene |dutifully. “It has been ‘greatly ad- Why should I not go! mired, but I think that is because the | Duchess of Doub jleyou praised it so much when she opened the sale the other day.” “‘She—her Grace didn’t pu€chase it, though?” There was positively an anxious tremor in his voice. ‘““No, she said that she afford it—that the Duke annoyed at the bill. It dear.” “How much?” gasped the large man. “Twenty-seven shillings and_ six- pence,” whispered Irene hopeles-ly. He mopped his face with a silk handkerchief of many colours and began to cross the room. “Tl have a look at it,” he muttered. “Do,” replied Irene. “But it is nothing but wood—just wood sawn and polished and fastened together.” “It’s very good wood, though,” he retorted quite sharply, “and the work- manship is excellent. Yes, I’11——” “Twenty-seven shillings and _ six- pence,’ breathed Irene. ‘1t seems terrible—to me.”’ “Pooh!” said the devil-may-care fellow boldly. ‘ Fr—her Grace of Doubleyou, you said?” I pass over the air of extreme re- luctance with which Irene appeared to take the misguided man’s mouey. was on the point of effecting my retreat (for it no longer appeared to me that Irene stood in need of encouragement) when the young man approached the desk. In his hand he carr.ed a picture- posteard of the refugees, which it was could not would be is so very | his obvious intention to purchiase. It would serve no good purpose, and might possibly lead to harm, if I detailed the exact proccss by which Irene sought to dissuade this innocent | young cr eature from buying ane!aborate | piece “of Brussels lace (three guineas). | While she was booking the order I fled. | To tell the truth, I was afraid to be | left alone with Irene and her stock. I have since learned that Irene took 227 1ds. 9d. that night. But perhaps the saddest part of the whole business was the treatment of Gladys Limpstone, for the Committee deputed the most tactful of their number to wait upon her and ask her if she could not bea little more pushing and seductive in her methods the next time she took charge.

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‘ene ad- | the ; SO} the | e it, an not be yery urge SIX- silk and red. t is vwn ” ’ he ork- ” Six- ems care of . Te- d to . § reat that ent) the ure- was and if I hich cent yrate eis). tied. o be took haps ness fone, most ypon be a re in took Aveust 4, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE THE ANTI-TORPEDO BATHING OUTFIT. OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. (By Mr. Punch’s Staff of Learned Clerks.) Since a title like Subjects of the Day (ALLEN AND Unwry) points one inevitably to a certain unrestful theme, it was | with a shock almost of happiness that I was reminded that such matters as Home Rule and Woman Suffrage, for instance, are still extant. True, gratitude on no better foundation might not have kept me good-tempered long ;| but fortunately throughout the speeches and occasional | memorial notices of Lord Curzon, here collected, there is | in the lofty sincerity which is their note an abundant | ground for more permanent thanksgiving. From the first) speech of the series, the one in which, as ex-Viceroy, he is| proposing the toast of the British Dominions Beyond the| Seas, a single persuasion seems to dominate his thought. | From a purely literary point of view the volume may | suffer a litthe—I dare say it does suffer—from the lack of continuity unavoidable in a reproduction of spoken addresses ; but beyond question the book is welded into a| whole by the patriotic spirit that inspires it. To be sure, | in many of these utterances of the last ten stormy years—| the period here covered—the partisan attitude obtrudes itself. But the broad truth about these speeches, no less! apparent in Lord Cromer’s introduction, is that they are an expression of that unfearing and responsible imperialism, | justified beyond all words to-day, which even the most determined Little Englander—if such a creature still exist—at the bottom of his heart loves and understands. | It is the negation of jingoism, the antithesis of Prussian militarism. And in the reading of this book the staunchest advocate of Radicalism may well consent to forgive Lord Curzon’s occasional distrust of Democracy, and be glad that in this time of crisis he has been called to a place in’ the councils of the nation. ° 1 am a little baffled as to what to say about The! Driving Foree (Lone). There are good ideas in it, and) Mr. GeorGe Acorn is a writer who has been deservedly ; praised for qualities of sincere and acute observation; yet it is precisely in these that his latest book seems to miss the mark. Perhaps you read One of the Multitude, that exceedingly human document, in which the early struggle of a slum-child towards self-respecting manhood was de- scribed with simple and therefore very moving sincerity by a writer who had himself experienced the conditions about which he wrote. In The Driving Force you get again the same sense—unmistakable and not to be counter- feited—of the life of the mean streets seen from within; but, though I am pretty sure that the characters them- selves are true, it seems to me that Mr. Acorn has yielded to the temptation to manipulate them into “ situations.” The result is a disappointing impression of artificiality. The chief theme of the story, the counteracting effects of heredity and environment, is lost sight of inva maze of rather irrelevant happenings; while the long-lost-child motive is handled in a way that imposes an unfair strain upon the reader’s credulity. It is in little pictures and incidents by the way that the best of the book is found. The first chapter, for example, with its account of the slum children starting for their country fortnight, is excellently done, with truth in every touch of it. This makes me confident that, if Mr. Acorn will avoid elaborate plots and confine himself to the simple record of things seen and remembered, he has an equipment that will yet place him in the front rank of our realists. My enthusiasm for those fine soldiers of the resilient Russian line, that bends and breaks not, gives me no clue to the higher qualities of the strange tales in The Old House (Secker), by Feopor Sotocun. I[ just don’t know quite what to make of them, and I hope such ineffectual candour amounts to a criticism not a prejudice. They seem—some- times at least—to go beyond the point of extravagant fantasy towards incoherence and morbidity. Mr. Jonn Cournos, the translator, urges me in a sympathetic preface always to look for the underlying “intense symbol of reality,” and instances particularly the powerful story, LONDON CHARIVARE. 119

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Aveusr 4, 1915. |! 120

——— ee as

“The Invoker of the Beast,” a nightmare of treachery and terror. I can only say that what Mr. Covrnos finds is hidden from me, but that he is the more likely to have the right kind of eye and seems an honest soul. I did indeed find a kind of epitome of national strategy! in the long story of “The Old House” (which deals with the tragedy of a son hanged for conspiracy),.a marching forward. towards the attack and a skilful retirement renewed again and again, and certainly also a brooding atmosphere cleverly created of poignant tragedy, and some exquisitely outlined portraits. Am I wrong in thinking that the magic of the long-drawn- out preparation and comment resided in the felicitous and delicate choice of the precise word, and that a little of it has evaporated in the intolerably difficult exercise of translation ?

A Far Country (Maémintan) is one of those stories of modern American life which Mr. Winston Caurcarin (U.S.A.) can handle better perhaps than any other living author. It is not altogether a happy story. In a sense | it might be called, up. to the last pages, a tragedy—the more poignant for being only suggested. Unfulfilment

which he very capably turned to good advantage. Whether or not the story contains autobiographical passages I will | not pretend to guess, but the author has certainly been |’ beguiled into inserting various events and conversations of | little intrinsic interest and with no particular bearing on the plot ; also into dwelling at disproportionate length on the failure of the examination system and the worthless soul of the Oxford don. But there is real life in Andrew}: ' Dick, and the comedy of his experiences (especially as a schoolmaster) is well worth reading. As for the letters |; | Sylvia wrote to him, they made me: positively envious.;|; | I could have welcomed quite a lot more of the correspon- | | dence between Andrew and his fiancée. The end of the| | book leaves him assistant-editor of The Studio, and without | | a doubt he deserved it. It needs a stout heart to face the heroic jig-saw puzzle of Balkan problems past and. present and tackle the sorting and the fitting of the pieces. \ Of such an organ, fortified by a well-filled head, is Dr. Seron-Watson possessed. In Roumania and the Great War (ConsTaBLE) he makes out a fair case, not ignoring facts of contrary implication, in

is the keynote of it. Mr. CuurcHiLtt has done a -very, hard thing remark- ably well. . In. the central character, Hugh Patet, his task was to analyse deterioration from within, and with apparent un- consciousness. Hugh’ is the symbolic figure | of American ‘young ' man- hood, starting life full; of generous impulses dnd ideals, and gradually mas- tered by the all-pervading worship. of prosperity and financial ' success. . From a dreaming and romantic student he becomes, , by inevitable degrees of men-

THRILLS FOR HOLIDAY-MAKERS. THE PERISCOPE ATTACHMENT. « VERY POPULAR. ~ particular certain obstin- ; | —+=jate blunders of British} -; diplomacy, for our con-] . sidering this hazardously }' placed State as allied with j. | us of the Great League of Freedom in sentiment and aspiration ; and a slenderer but. still substantial case <== |for our hopes of her in- _}tervention- on- ‘the right = side... But how on earth -|the worthy doctor im- | agines that any other than -an expert of the fourth = | degree can read his pages beepers map or chart

and preserve his sanity I ‘don’t quite ‘know. Nor ‘can-I pretend. that the

tal hardening, a pushing and conspicuous part of the system of graft that runs a city, a state or a country for the sole benefit of the inside wirepullers. Incidentally (though I know Mr. Cuurcum did not intend that effect) the description of how a very rich and unscrupulous Trust lawyer cam spend money is by no means unpleasant reading. Throughout Hugh's carger there are two men representing the diverse forces at work within him— Watling, the man of affairs, and Krebs, the idealist. It is when the system that supports Watling and his associates totters before the attacks of Krebs; when Hugh's wife has practically left him, and he finds that the other woman whom he loved better can never belong to him, that he awakes to the truth of his position. That is the end of a story that is, I think, the most powerful, though not the most pleasant, that | Mr.. Cuurcnitn has yet written; certainly one of the | outstanding novels of the year, which you must not fail to read for yourself.

| Merry Andrew (Joun Lane) is Mr. Keste Howarp’s / nickname for his latest hero, a cheerful and promising | young man who nobly resolved to find a footing in Fleet | Street, make a fortune, and marry the charming girl of | his undergraduate choice. All this he finally achieved, but found his Oxford training a sad handicap, and was forced to eke out a livelihood as an usher in third-rate private schools until Fortune kindly handed him the opportunity

marshalling of his knowledge is as orderly as it might be. But there stands clear one fact, whereof in our preoccupation | with German power-fever and brutality we tend to under- estimate the significance, which fact is that the Magyar domi- nation in Hungary is of a reactionary character to a point hardly conceivable in a modern state, checking at no device of chicanery or violence. To say “ medisval” is to insult a much abused era. Not for nothing does the blood of the Turk flow in Magyar veins .. . My advice is get a wet towel and a good map and read this memorandum.

SONNET OF STRANGE SOUNDS. Dreap is the fierce gorilla’s warlike roar, And dread the Banshee’s.long-drawn boding cry, Dread, too, the note a table-leg lets fly When moved abruptly on a lino’d floor ; Feline roof-serenaders grieve me sore, And amateur performers on the flute ; And most uncanny is the siren’s hoot When fog-bound liners feel their way to shore. These sounds and others in a lifetime long Have jarred my nerves and chilled me to the bone, But nought on earth that better suits the throng Of Pandemonium have I ever known Than just a simple, modern comic song Played swiftly backwards on the gramophone.

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3; 15. i] me | sther will been ns of g@ on h on hless drew: as a tters ‘10US, ° spon- f the chout uzzle rting ed by In out a n, in ystin- ritish con- ously with ue of t and derer case yr in- right earth im- ‘than ourth pages chart rity I Nor | the ht be. yation | inder- domi- point levice insult 0d of get a n. : cry, » bone, ng } than Aveust 11, 1915.) _ PUNCH, OR THE OUR SCHOOL. By PorrertT MINIMUS. Ovr school is top-hole this year. It has always been the best school, but this year everybody admits that it is absolutely top-hole. So now you know which school it is. Verbo sapo sat ; this is Latin, and I've put it in for swank. We've just had our Speech Day, which wasn’t like any ordinary rub- bishy Speech Day. Nearly everybody was in khaki, even some of the Governors, and some fellows’ sisters and relations were in nurses’ uniforms. My people weren't half bad this yea and I introduced them to Dawes. He was cock of the school last half, LONDON | CH! ARIVARL, 121 of France 3 learnt a lot of irregular verbs to show my sympathy. The Upper Fifth said it was a point of honour to learn all the French we could. There was terrific competition for the French prizes. Mossoo made a fine speech in French, and we cheered every sentence. I understood honneur, ce@ur, entente, patrie, and cheered like mad when they came in. I didn’t understand the rest, as his accent is different and he speaks very quick. Nobody got the prize for German amid great “cheers Only two fellows went in for it, and they were hooted by some of the Fifth. This encouraged us, and also when they interned the German master. Pocock says they major is in training, minor is scouting. And I hate the Germans more than any of them. It’s just my beastly luck; I went and caught: German measles. Parker, who is going in for the Church, came to see me yesterday and said perhaps I am serving my country as well as anybody else. “He says that he is sure the German master, before he left, scattered germs everywhere, and that I got the lot of them (I was simply covered) and saved the whole school. I expect he is right. He put on his most professional air, and said anyhow they were part of the unscrupulous decrees of Providence. I must have had about ten thousand. and he has now got a commission as private, but he didn’t mind their being introduced because my father is in the same regiment. A real top-hole bishop gave away the prizes this year. Not an ordinary bishop, like we had last year, but a suffragette bishop. Parker, who is going in for the Church, says they are so called because they wear a larger apron other bishops. But this bishop was top-hole anyway, and some of the things he said about patriotism were simply spiffing. I an glad my people came. Last year we had a lot of beastly books which no decent person would read. I got Darwin’s Dutch Republic in three volumes, and swapped it with Venables for two white rabbits. I’m sorry I did so now, as the rabbits died, and Venables’ grandmother was so pleased that she made her will in his favour because he was a pro- always prominent in Mr. sympathies, was the most popular. Zn Memoriam. WE have to record with great regret the death, after an operation, of Mr. Walter Emanuel, at the age of forty -six—a loss both to ourselves and our readers, for, a valued con- tributor, it was he who for many years, with very rare interruptions, provided “The London Charivari” with the ‘Charivaria" that usually filled this page. His alert and caustic wit, his sense of nonsense and his peculiar gift of whimsical inversion perhaps found in the paragraph their best ex- pression, but Mr. Emanuel was known also to the book-reading public by several humorous works, of which “A Dog Day,” that diverting and con- vincing humanization of an animal Emanuel's THINGS THAT (In the letterpress portrait of one of an evening paper “note the creases in sers.”’) WHEN it happens that we read (And we can do so daily) The details of some gallant deed, Of peril fronted gaily, The story brings its wonted thrill, But yet we can’t help feeling That matters more exciting still The writer is concealing. MATTER. beneath the our generals urges us to his trou- He tells us how the pluck was high, The strategy was tricky, But what about the hero's tie? And did he wear a dicky ? When mufti cloaks the burly form That scattered (like the chaff) foes Would critics call his waistcoat “warm ” ? geny, the first they had ever had in the family, or some such rot. all be the same: honour framed. heard the fellows cheer. Our roll of honour is a pretty hefty one. It has got Poppett major’s name and the names of all the fellows who are doing anything for their country. And a jolly sight better prize than Motley’s Earth Worms. As if a chap w ould spend his holidays reading up worms ! Only one fellow ever got a book worth reading, and that was Boswell’s Life of Jack Johnson. There seemed to be no pictures in it, though. Still for a fellow be pretty hefty. Last year we ragged Mossoo; year you should have heard the cheer when he came in. He’s not a bad sort, after all. As soon as I heard what a This | ought to have done it earlier, year the Head said the prizes would| body could see he was a spy by the the school roll of} way he wrote his own language. You should have just | could not get out of the trick of hiding who wanted to learn boxing it ought to! guage of Dishonour, even though it had | those beasts were doing in the North} me, and it’s a beastly shame. 'been the tongue of Gertie this | as any- He the principal word in a corner of the sentence. Pocock says he wishes Italy had not joined in till the holidays, because the Head at once added Italian to the cur- riculum to encourage those, he said, who were giving up German less from | patriotism than for slackness. He had Pocock there. He said in his public speech that “henceforward in this school the language of Danty and of Honour will take the place of the lan- “Shiller.” Pocock says that Gertie was a German lady the Head met when he was young. All the fellows are doing something their country this vacation except Poppett | for And what about his half-hose ? These are the things for which we yearn, On these our thoughts are centred, And when at last the tide shall turn And Germany be entered, Our heartfelt joy at coming peace Will know dull Care’s invasion, In doubt if FrenNcu’s trouser crease Was worthy the occasion. “STRICT GERMAN CENSORSHIP. Paris, Monday.—According to Berne des- patches, no German cruisers have arrived at Berne or other Swiss towns for the past three days.’'—Irish Paper. From the heading we gather that their non-arrival was due to a collision with the Censorship. Extract from a soldier’s letter :— ‘*The trenches are really quite comfortable except for the mud, and the people who live opposite.’ VOL. CXLIX. G

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122 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, [AueustT 1], 1915, THE MAKING OF A SOUL. Tue Witches were making a soul. Once in every hundred years it is permitted to them, for services they have rendered, to make a soul and to choose a human being whose body that soul shall inhabit. Of course there were three Witches; it is well known that they always work in threes, finding this number convenient for their business. Now it is a mistake to suppose that Witches are always ill-disposed and wicked. They are often as good as other people; but they have their moods, and sometimes they are both capricious and mischievous. Thus they acquire a bad reputation among staid folk and have often been punished for faults which they have not committed and for vices which, at the moment, they do not possess. At other times, however, they have committed faults which have escaped without notice, and have been full of wickedness which has been attributed to others. On the whole, therefore, no great injustice has been done, although the rules of evidence have been strained against them in Old England and New England and elsewhere. Now on this particular occasion they were, as I have said, busy with the making of a soul; and I am sorry to say that two of them were in their most mischievous and disgraceful mood. They had been chasing wild cats up and down craggy precipices and had had only poor sport. The third was ip a better humour, but she had been riding a thousand miles on a new but well-broken broom, and she was now tired and was hardly capable of opposing her two disreputably-minded sisters. All this, I ought to mention, took place more than fifty years ago. The third Witch, the benevolent one, was the first to speak after they had come together. “Do not,” she said, “let us spend a long time over this soul-making. I have by me quite a nice soul which I made in my summer holidays last year. Why shouldn’t we use that and get the business over ?”’ “Nonsense,” said the first Witch. “Quite a nice soul, indeed!” said the second. mean that you put good things into it?” “ Well,” said the third Witch rather shamefacedly, “ per- haps I did. I put in loyalty F “Pooh!” said the first Witch. « And generosity,” said the third. “ Pish!” said the second. “ And modesty,” added the third. “Good gracious!” said the other two together, “ our sister is wandering in her mind.” “Oh, have it your own way then,” said the third ; and she threw away the soul she had made and went to sleep on a rock. ‘Here ’s a handful of cruelty,” said the first Witch. “And here’s a peck of faithlessness,” said the second. “ Let’s put them in before she wakes up.” So they put them in. “ Here’s a whole heap of vanity,” said the first Witch. “Tn it goes,” said the second; ‘and here’s a wagon-load of braggadocio.” “Splendid!” said the first Witch; “but we mustn't forget envy and malice r “ Excellent! And all uncharitableness,” said the second. “That'll about do,” said the first. ‘‘Now who’s to have it?” “We can’t do better than send it to Berlin,” said the second, “There will be a new princeling there in two shakes of a cat’s whisker.” “Do you “ Right,” said the first; and together they blew the soul away on its voyage through the air. “We shall have some fun some day,” they said. But the third Witch continued to sleep. She isn’t really responsible for the things that have happened. THE BUSY B’S. Bucuan and BEttoc are wonderful men, Equally nimble with brain and with pen, Swiftly eclipsing their college compeers, Destined for fame from their earliest years. Bucnan at Oxford—I quote from Who's Who— Mopped up the Stannore and NewpIGarE too; Published three books, shone at Union debates, Romped through his schools, with a First Class in Greats. Owing allegiance awhile to.the law, Wider horizons in action he saw, Joining Lord Mitner away at the Cape, Helping South Africa out of her scrape. Hardly less wondrous achievements were those Wrought By braye Betuoc in life, verse, and prose, Writer of anti-Semitic lampoons, Pilgrim-apostle of all picaroons. Member of Parliament, champion of beer ; Viewed by his party with feelings of fear ; Gunner of old in the army of France, Publicist, orator, mystic, free-lance. So, when the War-cloud exploded in flame, Even more bellocose BELLoc became; While to his feat in appeasing the Dutch Bucuan has added the new “ Nelson” touch. Jach wrote war chronicles, vast and unique— One came out monthly, and one once a week— Each took to lecturing night after, night, Filling their hearers with awe and delight. BELLOc excelled in the diagram dodge ; Bucuan in breezy avoidance of stodge ; Multitudes hung on the lips of H1narre; Bucnuan led off with E. Grey in the chair! Bucnan, whose brain works abnormally fast, Gives us an output stupendously vast, Vying in manner with Naprer and Pog, STEVENSON, ARCHIBALD ForBEs and DEFOR. Bettoc finds time to complete or rewrite Liyearp by day and Macautay by night. Serious staff-officers sit at his feet ; Wireless distributes his screeds to the Fleet. Here then’s a health to you, marvellous pair, Prester John BucHan, voleanic H1natre, Drinking the cup of life down to the lees, Bang in the front of our busiest B's! ‘‘We have repeatedly urged the imperative necessity of closer co-ordination between the operations in both main theatres, as well }as on the Italian front; but, so far as we are aware, our appeals and | our warnings have not yet taken effect.’’—The Times. : " |An arrangement by which the Grand Duke NicHo3as, General Jorrre and General Caporna should report direct to Printing House Square would seem to be desirable.

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ell nd PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Avevsr 11, —— ee “ ug J A SEA CHANGE. Katser (to Von Tirpitz). “BRITISH SUBMARINES IN THE BALTIC! DEVELOPMENT OF NAVAL STRATEGY! WILSON.” Mi WHAT AN INFAMOUS HERE'S MY CHANCE FOR ANOTHER NOTE TO

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Avoeust 11, 1915.] THE USES OF THE FUND. - “A verY awkward thing has hap- the breakfast-room in some agitation. behind him, marked ‘ Billeting Account,’ for £1 7s. 9d.” “Where did you find it?” I asked. the drawing-room clock. I think he but it seems so sordid, considering the charming note he wrote to thank us for our hospitality. I wonder what in the world we ought to do about it.” “Stick to it,” said Sinclair briefly ; “after all, you did feed him.” “No, I can’t do that. It’s too horribly mercenary. Besides, I asked him to come back again if they pass this way.” “It is an excellent case for the National Fund,” said the Reverend Henry. “It is really difficult to see how in the world we ever got on with- out that fund. I hope they will make it & permanent institution after the War. It solves all sorts of problems.” “ What sorts of problems?” Se knew I wouldn't wind it up till Saturday ; | PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 125 He Aiwa Me 7, ‘ J HT]! | fh | 1] ) | Ze G AINE IDR I i , > * 4 et 5 Tm WW dn \y, OE ye A 4 4) Y Yj i], - a / q', YY ia L% ‘ if Y A || \ we (> ) \ | | Ai “Wp; x ZS “s , : | 4 2 er SMe At | ) Friend. “‘WrE.LL, HOW’s THE WAR AFFECTING YOU?” Post-Cubist-Impressionist Sculptor. “Not A BIT, OLD CHAP. I NEVER SOLD ANYTHING BEFORE IT STARTED—AND I HAVEN'T SINCE!” “ Well, problems like this billeting cheque. And then there ’s the question of postal orders—postal orders for 4s. 6d. pened,” said my wife, coming into} We are all being continually stuck They | with postal orders for 4s. 6d. “ Lieutenant Marshall has left a cheque; come back as discount or in payment the street or happen to dig up a purse | of a year’s rent for the telegraph pole ,in the garden or as a dividend on a! ‘rubber share. Sinclair gets lots of, ' “It was rather cleverly hidden inside ;’em in return for little second-rate least it used to do. ‘lawyer's jobs. You get ’em, Harvey, in | the form of a year’s royalty on your | latest book. Ofcourse we all save them up—or rather we used to save them up —on the off-chance that we should have | ‘to pay a bill of the same amount. But! it wasn’t any good. | pay were always for 3s. 2d. or for 5s. 9d. | And at last we got so sick of them that 'we longed to chuck them in the fire, but we are none of us rich enough to begin doing that sort of thing. We were sometimes reduced to cashing them in the end. But now! For my part I keep a permanent envelope, addressed to the National Fund, and stick them in there and send it off at the end of the month. Did you notice | that it had passed the five million }mark?” | The bills we had to | “T'll try that,” said Sinclair. “1 have several drawers full of them at home.” “Then went on. there’s treasure,” Henry “ Suppose you find a fiver in of sovereigns in the garden. It puts you (if you have a conscience) in a confoundedly awkward position. At But now we know where to send them.” “T shall have to go by the early train to-morrow, Mrs. Harvey,” said the Reverend Henry abruptly, “ and I have never yet confessed that I have broken that Sévres vase in my room, I am really very sorry, but it will be all right. You will find my cheque ( made payable tothe National Fund) in an envelope under my tooth glass.” “ By 5.30 o’clock p.m. Mrs. ——’s spacious drawing room was already filled by the guests. There was the usual tea-drinking with its accompaniment of pleasant talks and laughter. which were only interrupted by the songs of musical ladies and gentlemen.” Nigerian Pioneer. Africa has furnished nothing new on | . . j this occasion.

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126 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. {[Auvevst 11, 1915.

WINDING UP OUR WATCH. (A Little Lecture on the War after the style of The Spectator.’’) Ir is our national habit to wind up our watches before we go to bed. So deeply is this custom rooted in the British character that it is safe to assert that on any given evening, in the majority of the better-class bedrooms in the Metropolis, this rite is being performed at the close of the day. A man will take his watch from his |scale. What we are doing now, as a ! now would be black indeed. As far as |nation, is to wind up our watch at the’ we can estimate (and you may rely as | last moment. }usual upon our estimates), if a certain It is painfully true that it is the last! threatened new offensive against our , moment, the very latest, ultimate, final,/ lines had begun as early as 10 A.M. on terminal minute of the eleventh hour.|the morning of last Tuesday week we But all the same we may rest assured should have been in desperate straits. that we are winding it up. We might/ It is not yet ready to begin. After a —and of course we should — have! very careful survey of the progress of 'wound it up after the fall of Antwerp.! the Eastern campaign and a considered ‘We might assuredly have begun to! appreciation of the German offensive wind it up after the bombardment of| there, we are able to state with some | Dunkirk. We might at least have got | confidence that this Western offensive pocket and the key from the dressing-|out the key after the sinking of the! will not be launched sooner than the table drawer, unless his watch j is “keyless,” and with an; absent-minded air will—well, wind it up. Even in quite: unfamiliar surroundings — in | the state-room of a steamer ' or the sleeping-car of a Con-! tinental express—an English- | man seldom forgets to wind his watch. The thing is <4 well established that it is held! in certain cases to be a test of | sobriety; it is only when a} man has lost control over him- | self that the rite js omitted. | It is quite a distinctive| national habit. A Frenchman | or a Swede will often usefully | employ his spare moments | with his watch-key. Who has | not seen passengers waiting, | for instance, at the Gare de! Lyons for their train, taking | out their watches and wind- | ing them up? If, and when, ' the foreigner finds himself in | a theatre queue or is kept wait-| ~~ ing on a door-step or has to! fill in an _ interval between | courses at table d’héte, he! winds his watch. But John| Bull waits till the last moment | of the day. It is one of our most striking manifestations | of insularity, like catching a! train at a run, like spare bedrooms, like the hat-rack in the hall. (We hope some day soon to do one of our Little Lectures on the Hat-rack in the Hall.) In the supreme moments of his fate a man will not act with any fresh extraneous impulse or display an un- wonted trend of behaviour. His actions are rather on the lines of intensified habit (as we observed three years ago, Our in dealing with the coal strike. readers are certain to remember the phrase and we cannot do better than. repeat it). It is the same with a nation. | In our present predicament we cannot hope to show the stolid fatalism of the Japanese or the sunny insouciance of the Spaniard. We can only reproduce our peace-time qualities on a grander

afternoon or evening of Mon- iday, August 16th, and if all | goes on as we expect we shall : be in a safe position to meet it -| by midday (Greenwich time) ‘onthe 13th. It is very fortun- ‘ate. .We do not, of course, ‘deserve to do any good, but | British luck and British re- | liance upon domestic habit in | the individual is just. going to (pull us through yet again. i We hate to prophesy —al- ‘though we are always at it— _but we are inclined to hazard ‘the forecast that any dispas- sionate and well-informed ob- server who surveys the exact position on, let us say, the last Tuesday in August, or better still perhaps the following day, will recognise that we have rightly diagnosed a rather obscure development and that (with very little to spare) the nation has rounded the corner. We shall have wound up jour watch; and when it is | wound up (unless it is allowed | to fall on the floor or is thrown ‘out of the window -or meets ‘with any other incidental | calamity) we-may be certain \that the watch will go, and | will not cease to go till we ‘ —_ — ‘have reached a_ victorious Lusitania. But that is not John Bull’s|issue. But one last word of warning. way. There is no need to repine. We!Our metaphor—for the first time, as |must get things done as best we can,|far as we can remember—is not ‘however much better it would have! quite perfect. For when the watch ‘been to do them otherwise. Let usj is finally wound up it would indeed be rather record the fact with humble|fatal if the nation got into bed and satisfaction that the watch is being | went to sleep. wound at last. | It is a terribly close shave. It is; From a War-lecture programme :— now an open secret that we are at this} ‘Colonel Frederic Natusch Maude, C.B., moment escaping by the skin of our/ the eminent military critic, was born in 1874, t oe ee = I é NB J hideous oa - |and educated at Wellington College and the eceth Irom & series Of hideous Calami-/| py »yal Military Academy, Woolwich, on the ties. We cannot specify them here.! staff of which he afterwards served. He _Above all it is our duty to be nebulous | entered the Royal Engineers in 1873." and vague. But all the world knows | Some of the other experts.consider that that if we had not bestirred ourselves! the gallant Colonel took an unfair ad- exactly as we have bestirred ourselves | vantage of them in starting his military in the very nick of time our prospects! education before he was born.

* PorTrER, Sir?”

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we ant led up is ved wn ets tal ain und we ous ng. as not tch | be and a Om 874, the the He that ad- tary ; Aveust 1i, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON .CHARIVARL 127 CHATTO AND THE PESSIMIST. | [Pessimist : ‘‘One who has something wrong | with his feet.”— Unknown School Genius. | His mouth was like twenty-five past | seven on a long-faced clock. He was | at his usual game spreading dumps | over the widest area he could reach. | The rain was falling pitilessly; the | hotel verandah was full; spirits were low; the Pessimist alone seemed cheer- ful. He had the company held by his | glittering eye. “ Just the weather for the Germans, he croaked; “it helps them with their | poison gas.” This bright thought appeared to| cheer him, but the little yellow opti- | mist in the cage above: his head | stopped abruptly his tune of hope and | brighter skies to come. His wooden | brother in the Swiss clock seemed to be making frantic efforts to burst forth and say something, but subsided with a rusty brrrr of disgust. The stream of poison gas went flowing on— Warsaw having now fallen, the turn | of Petrograd would come. General von Schtuffenheim, the grandest strate- gist in the world, was planning a/| swift raid upon Odessa. The British | working- naan was in German pay, | as were Buigaria and Roumania. All three would soon throw off their | mask, and so would President Winson. | | | | | | "Gn NS The Germans were fitting up every | ' ship¢in their Navy with a gun which could drop shells from Antwerp into | the harbour of Gibraltar, and where should we be then ? We gave it up, and one old lady 1 began to ery quietly into her handker- chief. We should then have been | entertained with the incompetence of te / | everything British and the never-to-be- bs sufficiently -admired foresight of every- : il thing German, had not Chatto burst | Grocer’s Wife. ‘*You'L& EXCUSE ME SERVIN’ you TO-DAY, Miss. ME ‘USBAND'S in upon the gloom like a respirator. JOINED THE NarronaL PRESERVES.” “ Hallo, Gargoyle,” cried he, “at it) again; cheering up the young and! The Pessimist was frightened. “I}| Here the sun came from behind a making merry the hearts of the “aged | have never seen such a fellow as you, | cloud; the old lady put down her hand- How’s the gout?” | Chatto,” he grumbled. “In you come| kerchief and smiled again; the canary The Pessimist replied with a sigh | and scare the lot of us out of our lives} resumed grand opera, and the cuekoo that it had partly left his toe, but that | with your confounded pessimism. I} burst forth from his chalet and crowed he was feeling twinges in the knee. shan’t go to bed.” defiantly thirteen times. “A very bad sign,” said Chatto in| But Chatto knew his man and stuck —— his most sepulchral voice. “It is; to him. He was soon able to lead a} =Fyrom Company Orders :— striking upward to the brain. That’s|cowed Pessimist gently inside, en-| ,, Any man wishing to make any alteration the way my poor Uncle George went, | couraging him with murmurs of, “ A| in their next-of-kin must send in a notification or at least would have gone, had he not! week in bed will pass like a dream. | to Orderly Room by 5 p.m. taken it in time and stayed in bed.! Plenty of hot mustard!” Suggestion for a recruiting-poster : “Tf That’s where you ought to be this} Before parting, Chatto winked upon you don’t. get on with your relations blessed minute, instead of rattling : away, {the assembled company and said,| } join the Army and change them.” the life and soul of a merry company, |“ You mustn't mind anything he’s been on a damp draughty verandah. You! saying to you. He's a dear old chap—| «Sir Arthur ie Markh: um, M_P., still harping are looking frightfully bad, old fellow.|I’ve known him for years. He’s all] on the old pun, as was said of Mrs. Gum- Isn't he?” he appealed to us all. ‘right, but’”’—and here he tapped _ his | midge.”’- Mansfield Reporter. — We all hastened to assure Mr. Gar- | forehead significantly —“ he thinks he’s | Mrs. Ramsbotham protests at this in- goyle that he was. lopking ghastly. | the editor of The Daily Mail.” fringement of her ancient prerogative. eieiiasisibennemsis

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128 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. {Aueusr 11, 1915. THE COUNTRY COTTERS. ? *, Ill, You Siny Ipiot,—Why on earth didn’t you tell me you kept wasps down here? I had no idea you went in for such a hobby. But why is your vespiary at the bole of the apple-tree, immediately outside the sitting-room window? Have you any specific objec- tion to my drugging it and removing it to a nice empty hole at the back of the wood-shed ? I will then revive it with sal-volatile, and inform the neighbours that the change of premrses does not mean any suspension of the regular business, and: that they may be stung from 9 a.m. to 7 P.M. as heretofore. [ am emboldened to suggest this alteration because yesterday morning at breakfast, the window being open to admit a balmy Sussex draught, one of your wasps wanted the honey at the same moment that I did. Joan, who is no vespiphile, flicked her table- napkin and said, “Shoo!” The wasp must have misunderstood her, for it immediately settled on the back of my hand and sat down on its pointed end. The result was that I said “ Help!” though Joan makes out that I muted the final letter. Unfortunately we had brought no ammonia with us. The nearest ap- proach to that useful alkali that we possessed was a bottle of ammoniated quinine, some of which I applied faute de mieux. I can’t tell whether it did any good or not, because I don’t know what would have happened if I had not applied it. Joan thinks the wound would have “ gathered,” but I imagine she is confusing a needlework term. Now you know why I want to move your wasps, Peter. The alternative is to eat our honey elsewhere. But bread and honey is so essentially a parlour dish (has it not as such long since received the cachet of royal example ?) that to eat it in the scullery, say, or in one of the bedrooms, seems to me seriously malapropos. You may be interested to know that our honey was a local industry. None of your New Zealand frozen honey for us,my boy! We bought it in the village, at a most unpretentious little shop. Its one window contained a cucumber, the butt-end of which was immersed in a jam-pot of water, and four round glass jars containing respectively bulls’- eyes, Pontefract cakes (which badly needed repolishing), nothing, and ‘ Windleton Mixture.” There was also a card displayed bearing the legend— HONEY FROM OUR OWN BEES RUN OR COMB. “T should like some of that honey,” I remarked to Joan one day as we were passing the shop. “But what does) ‘run or comb’ mean? Is there a dis- tinction in honey, as there is in butter —fresh or smoked?” Joan explained. “ Anyhow, we ‘ll have it in the comb,” she said; “then if we find we don’t like it in that form we can run it. | Whereas if we buy run honey, and we find that, after all, we want it in the comb : Now, Peter, an idea has occurred to me. Do wasps make anything? I) can’t recall any mention of it in Lord | Avesury, but I have a sort of notion that they make frumenty. (Joan says | that frumenty is a disinfectant.) At| any rate there is the idea in my mind, | and what possible object should I have | in imagining that wasps make frumenty | if they don’t? What I wish to do, then, is to have a card printed to hang in the sitting-room window :— FRUMENTY FROM OUR OWN WASPS THICK OR CLEAR. Meanwhile, let me know if I can send you some, at the same time not forget- ting to cut hole in card in order to indicate size of mouth. you the asparagus-servers and the scent-bottles offered in the Lawn Tennis Tournament. Joan attributes our failure to the fact that whenever it was my service I played the Ruy Lopez gambit (six balls in the net and two in the Vicar’s orchard); while I put it down chiefly to Joan’s persistently playing the “nullo” game. Even so, this is hardly sufficient to account for | ; | Stuck at home along o’ you— our being defeated six-love in two con- secutive sets by a brace of sheer rabbits. The truth is that our ponents’ strong point was their appall- ing feebleness, and I tell you without shame, Peter, that to be served soft | under-hand lobs without a soupgon of ‘googly’ about them by a left-handed auctioneer clad in a pink shirt, grey | flannel trousers, plimsolls, and a straw hat with a hat-guard, absolutely de- moralised us, who have spoken to Gore and RrrcuieE (Oh, good return, Sir!” from the covered stand). The auctioneer’s partner was of that! neophytic type that “also serve,” but , chiefly “stand and wait”; but I am told that she does good amongst the poor in the village. And now I regret (yet also rejoice) | I am obliged to | to a! premature close to-morrow, Friday. 1 | quite forgot to tell you, when I entered | into treaty with you for the occupation | to say something else : bring my tenancy of “ The Yews”’ of these premises, that I had previously offered to give Luoyp GEorGE a hand | | with the munitions, and attend the Arsenal over the week-ends—just to keep an eye on the other fellows, and see that they only went out to lunch a reasonable number of times. : Well, while I have been writing this letter to |you an urgent message ‘has come in- viting me to present myself at the Arsenal on Saturday. afternoon next. Joan is certain that if I fail to appear I shall be shot at daybreak, and my funeral, she says, would just now cause /a great deal of unnecessary incon- | Venience ; and I am inclined to agree Pog her. Under these elreumetances S, Peter, I am sure you will not insist on imy completing my sentence, and [| have therefore calculated that I owe you for ten days’ accommodation (reekon- ing day of arrival and day of departure ‘as one day), which, at the rate of a | pound a week, works out at £1 8s. 6d. iT accordingly enclose my cheque for 2i 8s. 6d. together with a bun (we hought seven for sixpence this morn- ing), which is the only way I can think of to settle this vulgar and objection- able fraction. Trusting that my cheque will be ; honoured with all that old-world cour- I thuch regret to say we were un- | successful in our attempt to procure | tesy for which the Bank of England is noted, lam, Ever your grateful ex-tenant, Oswa.p. A SHELL-TURNER TO A SHELL. LisTEN, you that’s done for me! Here’s one whose heart’s FRENCH’S Khaki lads, and mad to see with Op- | a great amount of | The fireworks in the trenches, You ’ll have to go and fight for two. I was for the Front at first ; But, since the Bosches voted | You was what they needed worst, To please ’em I’m promoted Where I drill and turn recruits — , The sort an eighteen-pounder shoots. Well, good-bye. Ill bid you luck And wish *twas me was started ; Tell the boys the way I’m stuck | And not to be down-hearted ; When you’re in the firing line Remember that your share is mine. In the breech and tucked up tight— Then bang! and off you’re hum- ming; Guess I’ve done my bit all right And now there’s your turn coming ; Burst for England, good and hot, And show the dirty beggars what ! ‘GERMAN SUBMARINE SAID TO SING IN NORTH SEA.” Nelson Daily News. The Hymn of Hate, we presume. ED

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n- Aveust 11, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. Mother. “I poN’T LIKE ALL TH AT DECORATION ON THE SLEEVE, DEAR, Scene.— Youthful 2nd Lieutenant trying on his new uniform, which has just arrived. COULDN'T YOU HAVE IT TAKEN OFF?” GABRIELLE. THEY are over now, those evenings when I sat by my open window and Gabrielle sang to me in the gloaming. But sometimes still, when the sun has sunk below the western edge and | the daylight slips into dusk, I lie | back in my chair and close my eyes | and conjure up the memory of her | voice, | It was always the same song that | Gabrielle sang—a song without words, sweeter, subtler far than anything that MENDELSSOHN ever wrote. Hers was | 4 voice to hear once and dream of for | ever, a voice of little volume, at its | strongest just a fragile ecstasy of | melody, yet ringing clear and pure, | like the echo of a rim of fairy glass | Smitten with a thread of silver. But it was in its softer notes that it was most | wonderful. Even now I can hear their sustained sweetness as they fell faintly | and more faintly still on the ear, till at length they soared and died on the last frail gossamer stair between sound and silence. So sang Gabrielle, invisible always. Yes, I never saw her, though I could well picture her as I knew she must be, slender and petite in form, her eyes and face aglow with the rapture of the music that was her life. And then very simply, very sadly, the endcame. ‘There seemed no sound in all the world that night, that rose- fragrant night in June, save the voice iof Gabrielle singing to me in shadows. For awhile I sat and listened motionless, fearing to break the spell ; but at last in a moment of forgetfulness I raised my hand to the cushion behind my head. Heaven knows I never | meant it as a gesture of invitation, yet as such must my singer have inter- preted it. She came. ito the shore, straight as a swallow to its nest, Gabrielle cathe to me. It was a brief meeting. Stung with a stab of |pain, I dashed my hand wildly down, and all that was left of her was a small brown smudge upon the window-sill. She had gone, my Gabrielle—gone, I | trust, where all the good gnats go. the) Swift as a wave! THE GERMAN HIGH SEA FLEET. THEY call me “ Fleet,” you understand, For being rather slows “Sea” for manceuvring overland, | And “ High” for lying low. I hope to keep ten keels for one Some Day—no matter when ; Meanwhile there’s nothing to be done But keep one Kiel for ten. “Miss ——, graceful in black over white, ee with a collier of wide white tulle fastened with | a diamond clasp round her Jong slim neck,”’ The Lady. No wonder he did not want to go back to work. An extract from Battalion Orders : “6. EguipmEntT.—Mr. ——, Accoutrement Maker, from Woolwich Arsenal, has arrived here to instruct the Battalion in the Repairing | & Fitting of the 1914 Pattern which will last about 2} days.”’ Equipment, It seems about time to issue the more durable 1915 pattern.

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130 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. [Aueust 11, 1915. |, HOW TO END THE WAR. Gertrude. ‘* WHAT A PITY THE GERMANS CAN'T SEE AUNTIE! THEY'D BE TICKLED TO DEATH." Go STeeuPa i “THEY ALSO SERVE.” To Tue Orricers AND MEN oF THE GRAND FLEET. {‘‘ Week by week they are waiting for a chance which never comes. Some of them, to the envy of their comrades, have had their day—in the Dogger Bank, the Heligoland Bight, the Falkland Islands, the Dardanelles. But for most of them ‘the day’ is still to come. It is impossible to describe the strain of waiting for it.’’ , The Archbishop of York in ‘‘ The Tumes.""} THE saucy Arethusa met the warships of the foe, And the Lion and Undaunted helped to send them down below, But remember, oh, remember, while we make their praises ring, That the men who do the waiting also serve our Lord the Kina. The Emden kept things lively from Seychelles to Singapore, Till the Sydney found her at the game and settled up the score ; But don’t forget the others, when you cheer the victors’ pluck, For the men who do the waiting haven’t had the Sydney's luck, Von SPEE was smiling broadly when he neared the Falk- land Isles, But he hadn’t made allowance for our gallant SrurDEE’s wiles, So he and his went under—and we cheered to hear the news, Yet the men who do the waiting are as stout as SruRDER’s crews. The British Tiger ramped and roared. Their cruisers wouldn’t wait ; They scuttled hard for port and left the Bluecher to her fate. Here’s to our tars who braved the foe amid the bursting shell— But the men who do the waiting, they deserve our thanks as well. They are ready, yes, and longing for the signal to advance, But they haven’t yet been given all the other fellows’ chance. They fret to join the mélée, they are eager for the call ; And the men who do the waiting have the hardest job of all. But the “Day” is not far distant when the thunder-roll shall peal, And the German fleet to meet their foe shall follow out of Kiel ; The guns shall lift their voices in irrevocable blast— Then the men who do the waiting will have got their chance at last. ‘‘ Belgium is for the moment a nation without a fatherland ; but the soul of the nation is living still, is living in her brave soldiers, is living in King Albert, who has shown to the modern world what can be done by a Nero-King.’’—Dundee Evening Telegraph. Our contemporary is in error; it is another monarch who has shown the world that. ‘At the inquest on the mate of the steamer Torquoise, which has been sunk, three men were hit by shells.’’—Greenock Telegraph. The Coroner ought not to have allowed it.

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Aueust 11, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 133 - Sy) HUMOURS OF A REMOUNT DEPOT. THE WATCH DOGS. XXV. My peArR CHARLES,— We have moved | along again and have struck a new joy | in life. It was one of those quiet and ostentatiously peaceful afternoons in the trenches, upon which anything may happen anywhere, at any time, and it is just as well to stay in your dug-out lest it happen on or about you. I was lying “at home,” but, no callers arriving and the harmonious drone of a thousand local blue-bottles producing its inevit- able effect, I was just about to enjoy an hour or two of the best when I was aroused by a knocking on the floor. 1 am not used to being approached in this indirect manner, so rather than invite the knocker to come in, I myself went out. Being unable to obtain redress from our own people, I sought out an R.E. officer, whom I knew to reside in our wley for no honest pur- pose. Most of the worst machinations of the Devil are worked, in warfare, through the R.E., and I had no hesi- tation in accusing him of having either instigated his own men or provoked the enemy’s into this rude and unsceru- pulous disturbance of my peace of mind | Officer (to lately joined Recruit). ‘‘JUst BRING OUT THAT MULE, WILL you? AND DON'T GET HU ,and body from underneath. The R.E. ' . id . . . . . . ofticer, a genial villain, told me all about | with intent; and, approaching them 'with a smaller charge, to have under- it, but was not, as far as I could see, ashamed of himself. It appears there is a class of English- men to whom even the present methods of trench warfare are not satisfying. Whereas the average infantry-man is content to fell hostile individuals, and the average artilleryman doesn’t par- ticularly care whether he kills or not provided he removes landscape, these men have conceived such a dislike for the enemy en masse that they must needs re:nove thei en masse. Un- happily there is a class of Germans of the same morbid disposition, but the two lots have not yet come to any understanding of * live and let live” as amongst themselves or concluded any business arrangement to that effect. To pop a head over the parapet, have a shot and, if there is any head remaining, to pop it down again is merely risky, and therefore, as it is lacking in true frightfulness, these engineers will have none of it. They prefer to burrow in an ominous silence and get at their antagonists from underneath with a thousand tons or so of blasting powder ; but their chief delight is to discover | . ithe other lot burrowing towards rr.”’ us, ground what they are pleased to call a “blow,” as opposed to the above-board method known as a “show.” When an R.E. oflicer, using what to you or me would seem a mild artd inadequate expletive, says, “ Blow that German!” it is all up (literally) with the German in questicn. It is always possible, of course, for one of our galleries to join up accident- ally with one of theirs, although these passages are but four feet by two. In this connection my R.E. man _ told me of an experience of his, occurring upon one of his subterranean tours of inspection; but he did not tell me this, God bless him, until I had got back from my own tour. What happened was this: turning a corner, he met a German That’s all; it not enough ? I was having tea in his dug-out when my informant told me all this. He is spent most of his time sitting on a large tin case, smoking contentedly. Common politeness demanded that I should en- quire as to the contents of the tin; the sound of the scientific name of the stuff

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134 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Aueust 11, 1915. would convey nothing to you, but the sound of the stuff itself (when ignited) would explain everything. I was about to rebuke him sharply for daring to smoke in the presence of so vulnerable an explosive when he went on to teH me that the two little buttons at his side had only to be depressed to bring to a climax arrangements which had been made to elevate the very trenches I occupy myself, when and if occasion should demand. » With me it was the work of an instant to decide that I would do or deny myself anything to keep in his best books. The knocking 1 had heard was ap- | parently some way off and had already | been noted. The R.E. were reserving the knocker’s fate and leaving to him | at least the pleasure of doing the bulk of the burrowing. As events turned out, the noises ceased altogether while they were waiting, . from | ~ which they concluded that the work was complete and the charge laid. This they proved by some burrowing of their own,~ conducted, no doubt, very’ gingerly. Having discovered the ac- tual charge and for all their ‘the mine to-night, Daddy!” ‘new line. To do this needs but a slight adaptation! Front and that one of them had been of old words, and so, when the rumour | mentioned in despatches. goes round that sounds have been heard | and we may ascend skywards at any she said, with real feeling. moment, the company clusters round | I said so. its Sergeant-Major and sings, with) pathetic insistence, “Don’t go up in| what they did for their country all your | life,” she said, and then, after a pause, Having indented for every conceiv-| she continued almost to herself, ‘ And able thing a soldier can possibly want} what shall I have to think of my son!” or wear, all forms of uniform and_| equipment, arms and tools, we had the! of a son at all, but I felt sure she could bright idea of indenting in an entirely; never be the mother of a slacker. I We indented for men, and} looked up at her inquiringly. in due course these .arrived from our base companies, their faces reminding | nothing but eat and drink and amuse us of those good .old days in England | himself during this great crisis. *y: : | when our military operations were con- fined to dealing with an enemy who | either did not retaliate at all or, at the were comparative strangers—so I sug- worst, did so with blank ammunition. | gested munitions rather feebly. Upon their arrival they were inspected| “Oh, that would be no good.. He “How proud you must be of them!” I am, and “ You will always be able to think of I had not known her to be mother “Oh, it isn’t his fault that he’s doing He'd be no good in the field,” she said sadly. I didn’t like to be too curious—we knows nothing of engineer- == |ing or things of that sort. He has never applied him- self consistently to any- thing for any length of professional knowledge of the touchiness and temper of the creature, they pro- ceeded (in my absence) to' time.” I began to feel sorry for her. \ “ But why can’t he en- eS list?” I asked. “Is he alin. 2) 4 FeO a __ pt SZ y. \ medically unfit ? aS Ss “The fact is,” she said, “he could never stand the remove it. Conceive the: a OAD = arches. delightful sequel! Some, , Zs LF AZZ | 0 yard in Army boots.” evening every available man Zizi LL” 33% — “ But has he tried, has over the way would be AAELZA he done his best ?”: I asked assembled in the first line — ee warmly. : trenches, craning his neck INVASION. “Oh, it would be no to witness our departure at schedule time. At the ap- pointed hour the German General, whose part in the business! would be confined to this ceremony, would arrive with his minions, of whom one would carry the hand- somely-engraved switch-board, and the rest would quarrel for the honour of joining up the connection. He would make a short speech, modestly referring to the efficiency of his preparations and the completeness of the approach- ing crisis, insisting finally on the need for hate and more hate and yet more hate. The local Army, Army Corps, Divisional and Brigade Commanders would have sent “ Pass Memes’”’ sup- porting the resolution and anticipating the most beneficial results from coming events. Finally, amidst the deadest and tensest silence possible, would take place the tremendously impressive and significant ceremony of the Pressing of the Button, the whole affair concluding in an overwhelming nil. The men deal with this new phe- nomenon, as with all others, by song. absence of senior officers. He expressed | himself (and obviously was) delighted | and despised him heartily. with their appearance, but his pleasure |for his mother, but wondered if she was mostly due to the discovery of one| were not a little to blame; after all, his Private Trotter in their ranks. Imagine the feelings of that unhappy man, already sufliciently depressed by his first realisation of the dangers and dis- comforts of war, to find himself being inspected—closely inspected—and re- collected by an officer from whom he had, five months ago, borrowed ten shillings and never repaid same. Of a hard world, Charles, Flanders is not the softest part. Yours ever, TIenry. UNFIT. THE conversation turned inevitably to the subject of the War. We had not been introduced for many minutes before 1 found myself telling her—I am afraid I have a habit of telling Mr. Wacrorp (whose son has sent him home a souvenir from the field of battle) WILL HAVE HIS JOKE. Engineer-* by our old friend Smithson, in the; kill him.” people—that my three sons were at the He’d never walk use his trying,’”’ she said. __! Besides, Army focd would I knew the type of young man now I felt sorry upbringing—still I could not suggest that to her. But I persisted. “Have Army doctors disqualified him?” I asked. “No,” she said, “but our own medical man says his chest measure- ment is insufficient—and then he’s below the regulation height too.” “The Bantams,” I began. “Tt’s all no use,” she said sadly and | as if to dismiss the subject. But it was one on which I, the father of three soldiers, felt strongly. “T suppose he would do his bit if he could?” I asked. ; ‘He would indeed,” she said enthus- astically, ‘but he’s so helpless. All he can do is to bang a drum, and that he does most thoroughly and con- scientiously. You see,” she ended, smiling, “he’s only two years old.” — wail eee

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se en- he id, the alk has ked no nid. uld 10W Ty she ‘his yest fied own | ure- ne's | Aveust 11, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. / Rural Constable. ‘‘ SKETCHING THE HARBOUR IS FORBIDDEN, SIR."’ Artist. ‘Ou, THAT’s ALL RIGHT. I'M MAKING A STUDY OF CLOUDS.” 2. C. (impressively). ‘AH! BUT SUPPOSIN'’ YOUR PICTURE GOT INTO THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY’S AIRCRAFT DEPARTMENT, SEE THE USE THEY COULD MAKE OF IT!”’ And once a while The C.O., who ‘ DEFAULTERS. | They ’as a “do” | Sez ’e can see For an extra drink /On the lawn in front of the Officers’; We loves the lawn in front of the Mess, Defaulters we, | Mess. | *E knows this too— We cuts the lawn in front of the Mess; | Ain’t ‘arf some style, Without C.B. We’re shoved in clink, Band playin’ too, There 'd be no lawn in front of the Mess. Ten days C.B., |On our b!oomin’ lawn in front of the, And rolls the lawn in front of the} Mess. | For our Soldiers and Sailors. Mess. At the personal request of the Posr- They dances about | | . / . ote aarrer-Greve > a X . : : We picks up weeds | And digs their ’eels ope eager o* I — somnde And ‘umps the coal ; | In ourlawn in front of the Officers’ Mess; "'$ a ors that DOOKs ant oot’ Oillina We trims the lawn in front of the Mess ; | There ain’t no doubt may be presented at any I ost Office We're plantin’ seeds As ‘ow we feels for distribution among our Soldiers f seeds, | As » feel: The roads we roll, | For the lawn in front of the Officers’ #4 Sailors. They should not have Likewise the lawn in fron Mess. | aes any address or wrapping, but simply 1 front of the Mess. | Mess. be handed over the counter, and the The Officers they The turf’s gone west, Post Office will do the rest. Are sloshin’ balls And so you see On the lawn we've marked in front of | There ain’t much lawn in front of the In the circumstances no acknowledg- ment will be expected by those who the Mess ; | Mess. |make these offerings; but they may And every day | We does our best, be sure that their gifts will be put to : Our names they call Gets more C.B., the best use, and will be appreciated 0 rake the lawn in front of the) And mends the lawn in front of the by those on whom the long hours of Mess. | Mess. , Waiting would else hang very heavily.

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_ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. fAuveust 11, 1915.

THE SKIPPER. (A Sketch from the Front.) THERE never was such a one as our Skipper (the name by which we always call the Captain of our Company— “B” Company, if you please). }What must man attain to merit a’ “y ‘tue’ a plc. sats -_ Victoria Cross? brought back as trophies the contents He is, of course, glad. He says it | of an enemy’s pockets, the enemy’s rifle, ; will give him a day or two home with | several hair-brush bombs, and, what was his wife and boy, to whom he has never of greater import, valuable documents | failed to write daily since old England’s and correspondence. His very first|shores were left. day in the trenches was signalized by| Some of us believe the Skipper will a visit to the front to fetch in a shell, be a General some day. Some think that had just fallen and failed toi he ought to be one now—but then, he explode. Laughter tempered anxiety swears at times, and eschews tobacco, at this essay, because, when he had and—we are sorry to say it—he would secured the shell, he found it almost’ be none too comfortable to get on with, impossible to mount. the parapet to,and, best argument of all, we don't bring it in. Really, he looked very | want to lose him. funny. Perhaps the Bosches laughed,| The Skipper’s wife has just sent us too, for their shots at him were wide of | ninety-nine pounds of acid drops. God the mark—which is saying something. | bless the Skipper ! The Skipper was subsequently heard to remark that one enemy shell was cer-| Testimonial quoted in a florist’s cata- tainly equal to one Turkish bath, but | logue :— we never could fathom this utterance. | ‘‘T am very pleased with the lot of seeds I There came on a day a severe ordeal. ! got from you recently. Everyone nearly came The trenches on our left were fairly | "P-’ plastered with shell, and many brave} We wonder what he would have said if A call came to the| they had quite come up. WHILE I Go

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PUNCH, OR THE THE TYRANNY OF EALING. (By an Inner Cireler.) | WHEN, as Evensong is pealing, Campden Hill-wards bound, I desire to reach my shieling | By the Underground ; | As I humbly stand, appealing To the indicator, “ Ealing” | - Only can be found, Endless trains stream past me, dealing Disappointment dire, Lt Bringing neither balm nor healing Ng ix To assuage my ire; Ba {\ ) . : » © +" | 3 For they ‘re packed from floor to ceiling, | oA And the eternal ery of “ Ealing” | ty Ae And the eternal ery of * J g Ve aw Sets my brain on fire. oe (a ea : \ FG. % So I stand, my senses reeling, ; \%s \ .t Anguish in my soul | LoS \ 7 . “9 . ‘ A As the trains with jolt and squealing | Ql pe Liver onward roll, \ 2 Ci f os Most conclusively revealing | ZN Ces TY Most conclusively revealing “ea i if Wy] | 7 1 es . . . } \ 3 VANE i, / That the whole world finds in Ealing | ¥ oF Hf! YY! > . ' = Its appointed goal. or PA a To the isle of Cocos-Keeling Were I forced to fly, Or the hills of far Darjeeling Tow’ring to the sky,

Whether walking, standing, kneeling, | a\ They will haunt me, trains to Ealing, Haunt me till I die. | | THE MOTE AND THE BEAM. | / “Excuse me,” I said to the man | 4 standing by the big motor car, “ but I | ee must ask you to reduce the power of | your head-lights. They’re brighter | than the regulations permit.” | ae ZZ. “Indeed,” he said rather severely. Han 7 “Do you know who I am?” os His tone rather vexed me. “No,” I said, “and I don’t care. You may rent a box at Covent Garden or a stall in the Caledonian Market, but those lights have got to come down.” THE SPIRIT OF Mike. “’Tis rHatr, SoR—A TIRRIBLE WARR,

Visitor. “‘Ir’s A TERRIBLE WAR, THIS, YOUNG MAN—A TERRIBLE WAR,”

HIS ANCESTORS. Bur ’TIS BETTER THAN NO WARR AT ALL.”

“ Have they?” he said. ‘ Who says | to lower the lights yourself. I take it so?” i you do decline?” “Ido,” I said. “Do you know who!” “ Well,” he said, “I admit I don't Tam?” | want to do it.” “No,” he -said, Who | “1 ought,” I said, ‘to have some are you, I mean?” | written instructions on how to act, but “One of the Special Constables for;I haven't. I have a whistle, and this Division,” I said, drawing myself | might call assistance, it’s true, but we up to the full extent of my new braces. | don’t want a crowd round if we can “I’m a person to be reckoned with. |help it, do we?” I could even run you in. But come,| “No,” he said. what about these lights ?” | “Thaveit,” I said. “Well, what do you want to do about them?” “It isn’t,” I said, “what I want to do about them; it’s what I’ve been instructed to do.” “But what are your instructions ?” ; car?” I asked. he said, | No,” he said. “Well,” I said, “I’m not quite! “Look here,” I said, “you seem a clear what I have to do if ycu decline | decent chap for a motorist, and I don’t ‘and 1-— “ If you wouldn’t 'mind staying here while I go to the | nearest police - station, the Inspector | will tell me what I ought to do next.” | “Oh, I shan’t run away,” he said. | And you won't drive away in the

——

want to be severe. Couldn’t you bring yourself to lowerthem just the weeniest ? They ‘re only about twenty over-proof.” “No,” he said, “not the teeny- weeniest.”’ “Then,” I said, “there’s no help for it. I’m off to the station. I have your word?” “Certainly,” he said. I turned to go. “I say!” he called. “Ah,” I said, turning back with relief; “ you relent?” “No,” he said, “it isn’t that. Iwas only going to say that here ’s the owner of the car coming back, I think.” “The owner,” I gasped. * Then who are you?” “Nobody in particular,” he said, smiling. “I’ve just been waiting here all the evening for a friend who hasn't turned up.”

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Aueust 11, 1915. SOMMEVERE-EN-FRANCE. Onty Guillaumism, I felt, could have got me to reside for more than one night in the little town of Sommevere-en- France; but I am glad of the experience, for the Sommeverians are a pleasant placid folk with a pretty taste in open fruit tarts, and for the cool of the even- ing they can offer the stranger both a river and a canal. Not an ordinary moment reduces Guillaumism to a dream, a myth. But for that dread menace they would not be there in such numbers, it is true, yet how can one fear the worst so long as they angle, these warriors, with such calm and intensity? It is not a sight to hearten the War Lorp and send him to the telegraph-oftice with a new message of confidence to his sister of Greece and a new postscript of affecticn for Tro. canal, but a canal which runs right away into the Detestable Land and, a} mile from Sommevere, is so adventurous | as to leap across the river by a gleam- | ing white bridge. Upon the canal wel many barges, whose main function as | carriers being for the time suspended | now lie moored to the trees by the) bank, and shelter huge families of refugees together with dogs of a thousand-and-one strains. Sommevere-en-France itself must be one of the neatest provincial towns in the world. Built by a monarch of orderly mind though somewhat irregu- lar habits (as one Diane de Poictiers could ‘relate) it fulfils a rectangular plan. In the middle of it is a square; within that is a smaller square of lime trees, whose branches have been se- verely cut into.cubes ; and in the middle of that is a fountain. From this foun- tain radiate the four principal streets. The fountain itself, rather daringly in such ‘close proximity to the real article, represents the great and beauti- ful and very green and now poignantly historic river on which Sommevere-en- France is situated as a bronze lady: a feat of imagery which, since the stream can be seen only a few yards away, has the effect of turning the youth of the town into either poets or, by way of protest, realists, and suggests that some limit of distance should perhaps be set upon symbolic sculpture. There, however, she stands, this bronze lady, not much more motionless than—especially on Sundays and in the evening—stand the multitude of | anglers on her river’s actual banks. For Sommevere-en-France fishes with a un- animity and application such as I never saw before. Every one fishes: old wo- men fish ; young women; mothers with their children; girls; boys; elderly men; the barber with the strabismus who is so anxious to learn English; the tall) man with one leg who manages his | bicycle so cleverly: all fish. After | five o'clock they are a3 sure to be by | the river as the bronze lady is sure to | be in the centre of the square. But, | most of all, the soldiers fish. Somme- | vere-en-France is packed with soldiers, | and every one has a rod. When work | is done they hold their rods over the | river with a pacific content that for the | “Great sensible land of France,” I sa‘d | wanted it all for 10s. net. No one, so far as I know, ever catches anything; but what of that? It. is notorious that fishing and catching fish can be totally opposed pursuits. Nothing ever discourages or depresses the fommevere enthusiasts. They fish on; smoke on; exchange jests and hopes. The barber, with his white jacket and his ragged beard, who for the most part has one eye on his float and the other on the street whence would come running the boy who lathers the customers, may now and then examine his hook with a gesture of surprise, but he is not really con- cerned to find no fish squirming there. Similarly, at intervals; every soldier withdraws his line to replenish his bait or move his float ; but they too are not downhearted. that kind of fishing. No flies, no reels even ; nothing but a rod, a piece of string, a float, two split shots, a hook, and some quite superfluous lure. A few more imaginative minds add a landing-net. I have sometimes wondered what would |. happen if a fish with a sense of fun did once permit itself to be drawn from the river. serpent? I imagine them, en masse, soldiers and civilians, old and young, stampeding to their cellars in terror. “A fish! A fish!” Sommeveie has two hotels and several cafés, one of which, by the canal towpith, where the weary horses ‘plod, bravely calls itself the “Café de Navigation.” As for the others, they are of the regular pattern—‘ de Com- merce,” ‘‘de Paris,” and so forth. It also has many shops, for it is a centre of an agricultural district, and farmers and farmers’ wives—chiefly farmers’ wives nowadays, for the farmers and their men are away fighting GUILLAUME —rely upon it for the necessities of life. And mention of the shops reminds me of one of my experiences in Sommevere whieh I shall ever cherish, for I too, | finding myself one day also in want of a necessity of life, entered the chief ironmonger’s and laid my need before the assistant: a corkscrew. He dis- played first one and then another, re- marking that the second was “ plus sérieux.”’ It was, of course, the more serious corkscrew that I bought. I say float, for it is all | Would they run as from a sea! | to myself as I bore away this precious | purchase, ‘‘ where the words ‘serious’ | and ‘corkscrew’ can be so naturally | allied, and soldiers can catch nothing ‘hour after hour in perfect content- _ment!” For the rest of my life cork- | Screws will fall into the two divisions— serious and the reverse. THE ADVENTURER. In Childhood’s land of make-believe I wandered long ago, Content and keen to plan and weave A constant shadow-show. We prowled about like angry bears Within the fire-guard den, And stole doll-children unawares And rescued them again. | We'd blaze each chair-leg forest-tree | ‘To balk an Indian plot, Or sail into an oil-cloth sea Upon the sofa-yacht ; We made our captives walk the plank Across the nursery tray, , And wrecked the bath-ship on the bank Of bricks in Carpet Bay ; But now, where City fetters cramp My wayward feet, I slave ; Electric is Aladdin's lamp, The office is the cave. Yet here, as in dear nursery days, I roam adventuring, And travel-through uncharted ways On Fancy’s restless wing. |The marvels of the mystic East ' J] view in countless bales, While cunning merchants hourly feast My ears on fairy tales. | The ledgers tell a wild romance | Of galleons strangely lost, | Of traders that have met mischance | When coral-reefs were crossed. ‘The wisdom of a thousand climes, | The witcheraft of a few, |The glamour of the “ good old times,” | The vigour of the new— | All these combine to weave for me, | Out of the rush and din, | Fair dreams of gallant days to be | And wonderlands to win. APARTMENTS.—Wanted, One Bedroom and Kitchen Board, three meals, five days; four |meals, Sabbath; breakfast and supper on Friday (hot supper with potatoes) ; hot dinners each day, and chop and steak for breakfast | preferable ; all home comforts essential. | Terms 10s. 1d.’’—Shields Daily Gazette. ‘The advertiser must be a generous ‘fellow. Some people would have —— as

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nk yank feast ce ” eS, e, m and ES four per on dinners eakfast sential. é. nerous have S— AvucGusT 11, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 139 £ qts” Officer (to boy of thirteen who, in his effort to get taken on as a bugler, has given his age as sixteen). ‘*‘Do you KNOW WHERE BOYS GO WHO TELL LIES?”’ Applicant. ‘‘To THE Front, Srr.”’ OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. - (By Mr, Punch’s Staff of Learned Clerks.) Or the many books that have been already written about the War and its causes, and of that greater number, at | which the imagination boggles, that will be written in the future, I doubt whether any will have a greater significance for the student than J’Accuse (HopDER AND STouGHTOoN). The. peculiar value of it, rightly emphasised by the | publishers, is that this doubly damnatory indictment of the central Empires is written by one of their own citizens— | one, in short, who, despite what must be increasing tempta- tions to belong to other nations, remains aGerman. Further identification is not given, doubtless for reasons of common prudence. One can well imagine that there are certain | quarters where no price would be thought excessive to silence the too candid tongue of this critic. His accusa- tion, based indisputably upon facts and documents beyond | question, proves the blood-guiltiness of the German and Austrian criminals with a logic that no impartial mind can dispute. He shows, from their own actions as given even in their official reports, that it was the Governments of Berlin and Vienna which, after long secret preparation, deliberately unchained the present horror upon the world at what they regarded as their most propitious moment. n particular no one can fail to be impressed by the' measures they took to avert what at several moments must have appeared to them the danger of a pacific solution to the difficulties they had so sedulously fostered. J’ Accuse 18 not only an absorbingly interesting volume, but one of | | Arts, price 2s. 6d. net. great permanent value ; and its anonymous author deserves the gratitude of all right-thinking men for the high meral courage that has inspired his work. One of the small grains of comfort which it is possible to extract from the War is the fact that it must have acted as a high explosive, blowing a great deal of nonsense out of the heads of a particularly irritating class of the community —the class which, before August, 1914, was wont to gather together in little coteries and talk Art and admire itself and behave generally as if it were the centre of an otherwise uninteresting world. As one of the characters in Mr. Doverias Gouprina’s It’s an Ill Wind -(GvorGE ALLEN AND Unwin) puts it: “There will be a European war in a fortnight. The importance of the small emotions of neurotic young men and women will then be dwarfed.” Adrian Corbet was one of this class till the realities awoke him and caused him to become a soldier instead of editing The Monocle, a monthly magazine devoted to Literature and the War enabled him not only to find himself spiritually, but to escape from the clutches of Rose Harford, who was going to marry him, but, as soon as hostilities began and the price of food started to go up, elected to play for safety and become the mistress of a rich man instead of the wife of a poor one. This is, I think, Mr. Gouprina’s first novel, and it is so well written that I hope he will stick to fiction as his medium of expression. None with his gift for characterization should limit himself to verse and the essay. Even the smallest characters in It’s an Ill Wind are alive, and there are very few writers

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140 {Aveust-11, 1915, | PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI.

who could have handled the development of Rose Harford | careful sketches of the lives of such men as Lr Caron, with greater skill. I hope that the book will not come ANpr& and ScHULMEISTER, but the best chapter in this part under the head of the ninety-nine per cent. of fiction which of his book is “* Mack and the Molly Maguires,” which is as in the present troublous times “ will automatically cease to exciting as any detective tale I have ever read. In discuss- matter,” for it deserves a better fate. ing the secret services of various nations Mr. Grant is still ——_—_——___—- ‘entertaining, but when he states that the German-Americans If it requires courage in a novelist—-and I think it does, of to-day are “ Americans first and Germans last of all” he to reconcile the apparently irreconcilable and to- build a strains my credulity. On the whole, however, his matter, firm loye-story on no visible foundation, coupling together though full of information, makes no great demands on what must seem to be utterly incompatible natures in a) one’s powers of belief. completely happy ever-after, without ever losing heart or + — showing any doubt as to the issue, then OLIve WapsLEY' When pretty Pauline Coutt, newly an orphan, came to has proved her right to be serving in the trenches. Nor take up her abode at her grandpapa’s house she did not does the miracle stop at her own belief in the event, for if: get much of a welcome, I am sorry to say; said grand- | I am an average reader (which I suspect to be the case): papa being too old to endure worries more serious than | there will be very few persons inclined to find fault with! beef-tea and Benger, or indeed to play any but a the romance of Alera Castlemayne and her gutter-bred,;merely nominal part in Mrs. Mary EK. Mann's latest poetry-loving Bill, the boxing champion. Although a/story, Grandpapa’s Grand-daughter (Muts anv Boon), patrician of patricians, she allowed the boy to sweep her | notwithstanding a place of honour in the title that surely: off her feet and marry her regardless; and it is all so|demanded a reasonable degree of exertion. Pauline’s | satisfactory that, some Serge cousin Vivia too, the .

‘only other surviving ae te ‘ary disparities OE - = | | otaiihaailing = eg, ~ .,member of the family, |

notwithstanding, one, = - Ras = ee ° closes the book with, Cr aa 5 BRS ==s— was not exactly cordial, ; no fears for the final, my ; * | being at the moment of | welfare of these two JF austeal too busy danc- Really ling with the footman. nice people.

rc) - 4 4, ' eaeetil g a ——_ de) < G naira Conquest (CASSELL) is a CZ SEG = file os NE | And the authoress does | most compelling story,; 7 TY + Zi ‘not stop even there, but despite the fact that; * ‘tage Thi % YN, ' proceeds with consider- | the War has inevitably | . ALF! | VES able animation to join. dwarfed one’s interest: z“ : ' y N+ | Miss Vivia in a series (supposing it ever) & ——— . ~- | of rat hunts, otter hunts existed) in such things; @=&= : y 4 jand private interviews as boxing contests and; oe : = | with the estate agent, | world championships. == aaa a= so that Pauline, who I could wish indeed. = , A rate poised her head proudly ae I) 2 tr \ & } < that the authoress had: ; : e te PX) a a and meant to keep folk got her effect of con- | aot . ‘ : . » {in order, looked like trast by some device eee “eee = having a busy time. less harsh than the set- ee = “a - i gl : , Things did not improve i ine ar perfec ee xOSH, ILL? Y OLD WOMAN WOULDNT ALF COP IT IF CAUGHT ER * ceil : . i ting of her perfectlover| (ouix’ ovr LIKE THAT!” either when it came out : that the estate was so | in the prize-ring, yet, | ; — : aca couneeinn seeing that her method has been successful, she may well impoverished that someone simply had to marry a wealthy uphold it ; and beyond a doubt she has achieved something. neighbour—fat, jolly and fifty odd he was—to save the Her style of writing, too, apart from some occasional’ situation. Vivia naturally would not; Grandpapa naturally unevenness, is of the pleasantest, and possesses the further’ could not; so who was there left? Pauline, as you might and rare merit that it improves with the occasion. In expect, was much too conscientious not to make the short, this is a book my friends shall be told to read. ‘attempt; and, strangely enough, it works out quite all - — ‘right in the end. How it does it of course you must When you begin a book with the expectation of being. read to discover, but your guesses will be getting very| | bored to the snoring point and find yourself thoroughly shrewd some little time before the finish, which indeed} | | interested and wideawake, it is well, I think, to admit the | comes desirably soon. The book is not without its dramatic fact. That was the effect that Mr. Hamit Grant's Spies| moments, but is too slight and unreal to count for much ; and Secret Service (GRantT RicHarps) had upon me, and the | in these days. Frankly, Mrs. Mann spills a good deal too | reason was that he does not devote himself excessively to} much water in the milk. | affairs of the moment, but gives up a considerable portion | of his book to what I may call the history of his subject.| «At Christchurch Cathedral this morning the clergy of the Diocese The psychology of the spy is a complex business, and [| assembled to make a presentation to Bishop Julius, on the occasion of should imagine that many of us have wondered how men | the completion of his twenty-fifth year as Bishop of Christchurch. The can be found to take part in what Mr. Grant says is | Sift. a light pastoral stag, was brought in in state."’—Auckland Star. ] spread from the Services to

“among the most disreputable of all trades.” That recruits | Has the ie for “ mascots can easily be found for this hazardous service is due, he| the Church ? ae 7 me) states, to a kind of megalomania which induces people at The G tal iii al th 95 baskets si Raitt anit th ' ode . na i Jy a! .. The Gunaandal came in on Saturday afternoon with 25 baskets whatever = to 4 engaged, in _ matter how low ly & of fish, averaging about 65lb. each, and only about 5 per cent. were 8: capacity, with men who direct important affairs, to associate | not edible. These were distributed among the hospitals.” in more or less familiar fashion with celebrities.” The spy Sydney Evening News. | is then—in simple terms—a snob. Somehow or other I} On the theory that, as the patients are ill, they may 4s | tl had never thought he was so bad as that. Mr. Grant gives/ well be very ill. Je —_ —_—7 dc

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| } 3S- ‘ill ns he er, on the ing ily, ial, t of ne- an, oes but ler- join ries ints 2WS ent, vho idly folk like ‘ove out 3 $0 thy the ally ight the all aust very leed atic uch too ocese on of The Star. 3 to skets were u's. y as Auaust 18, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 141 | CHARIVARIA. AccorDING to a Swiss telegram 150 swans belonging to the Katser have | just been killed at Potsdam because | there was no longer any barley to give them. His Masesty is expected to repair the loss by drafts from his abundant stock of geese. Lieut.-Col. FrRANcKE’s admission that the Germans poisoned wells in South | Africa, translates “arsenical sheep-dip”’ by the word Viersalz—* rock-salt.” A good many of the statements of the Kélnische Zeitung require qualification | with a grain of this material. | The Kélnische Zeitung, in recording An American journal states that baby shows are being held in connection with agricultural fairs and that “ blue | ribbons are being awarded to babies as well as to cabbages and pigs.” Only to those babies, we suppose, who have given up the bottle. spinning mills at Bunzlau (Prussia) bear an inscription inculeating economy in the use of bread, and stating that every slice saved shortens the duration of the War. If this advice is acted upon with sufficient thoroughness it will certainly shorten the duration of the Germans. A Daily News correspondent asked a wounded soldier whether Lord KrrcHENER, who had spoken to him when visiting the hospital, had told him when the War would end. ‘ No,” replied the young private; “he asked | if I could tell him.” Humour Stakes, result: — KITCHENER, 1; Soldier, 2; Correspondent, disqualified for boring. be devoting his leisure to landscape- painting. The particular artistic school that he favours is not publicly stated, but we have reason to believe that he | intends to be a Leaner. | *x ox What the shade of Naponeon re- marked when he heard of the capture | of Warsaw :—* Mind the Steppe.” “ & A Canadian officer, describing General JOFFRE, says * he looked to me exactly i like an American politician.” He omits, however, to mention the occa- sion on which the French generalissimo said he was too proud to fight. * Some surprise has been expressed that the Katser should have selected Prince Joacuim as the ruler of the new King- dom of Lithuania, and not one of his ee | Bread tickets issued by the Concordia | Mr. Wixston CuurcuHItt is said to| l . a | elder sons. Possibly he thought it; botany, has of late years been kept hopeless for them to acquire the neces- | alive by dog-shows. In fact, if the dogs | sary Polish. | had not come to the Society, the Society . | would have gone to the dogs. The Archbishop of CoLoGNE says | ai that, on being congratulated upon his Eastern successes, the Kaiser “ turned his eyes to heaven with the most inde- scribable expression of intense gratitude and religious fervour.” His latest portraits show, however, that his * = = =| The German Admiralty has publicly complained that neutral merchantmen Hatial ‘often paint the coloured signs indi- | |cating their nationality so small as to | be unrecognisable at a distance. They should remember that the Germans as | a@ nation are notoriously short-sighted. Red hair is notoriously unlucky, so when the Turks renamed the Kurfurst Friedrich Wilhelm, purchased from the Germans, the Hairreddin Barbarossa they were asking for trouble twice over. “Because it has imagination this little piece,” says the Chronicle, “thrills in a more real and authentic way than | | any other Guignol playlet we remember. It should be seen if only for Gouget’s | amazing performance as a shambling || |cut-throat.” The physician who told {us that a visit to the theatre was the | best cure for the depression caused by | the war must have been a homcopath. | + In a recent article on the grievances of midshipmen The Times mentioned their “cherry enthusiasm.” When discussing their treatment by the Ad- miralty it is said to be even ruddier. | * | A man was recently fined at Mary- | le-bone for assaulting his employer by |pelting him with bags containing a |mixture of red ochre, black-lead and flour. The unfortunate outcome of this ingenious effort to extend the display of ithe Belgian colours will not, we trust, | be misinterpreted by our gallant Allies. | * "3 . | The German Crown PRINCE retains |his taste for curios. A recent snap- shot depicts him shaking hands with a German soldier who does not possess Enumerator (an riously). “No ONE LIVING the Iron Cross. ON TOP FLOOR HERE, I HOPE?” | REGISTRATION DAY AT MONUMENT. THE Even under the stress of war Shake- spearean research still occupies some of the brightest intellects. The Rey. LACHLAN MACLACHLAN, of Strathlachlan U.F. Church, Nether Achnaharachle, | N.B., the eminent author of Ethnologi- | cal Data in Imaginative Literature, has | just announced his discovery that the First Gravedigger in Hamlet was a Scot. Only a Scot could have affirmed | with conviction, while addressing a | complete stranger, that “a tanner will | last you nine year.” | moustachios now point in quite a different direction. Many dear old ladies have been greatly relieved by the news that a regiment of Russians is to be raised in Canada. ‘“Sothat’s where they went.” “Just as charity begins at home,” | says Count REVENTLow, ‘German over- seas policy begins on the Continent.” And, like a good deal of charity, it seems likely to end where it begins. | The Latest Extinguisher. + . ° ° | “cc Tire Rrio: » were sx > scene From a recent discussion at the| The Fire Brigade Were soon on the scene, i asall: Dictialn Meelitin th | mong tert and once they commenced to turn their noses royal botanic society it appears that} on to the flames the conflagration was soon this institution, intended to teach! under control.’’—Egyptian Mail. VOL. CXLIX. H

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. [Aueust 18, 1915. THE LOWER THIRD. Tue Lower Third is twenty small boys whose average, as I have just in- formed forty anxious parents, is 13-2, and whose Latin is generally “ Fair, but needs care,” but sometimes simply “Bad.” Minor characters in the story are the Headmaster—whom Crockford describes as P. 1890, if that conveys anything to you—and I. I am one of those people whom austere elderly ladies in trains and "buses now stare so coldly at, although I travelled ex- tensively and not without damage—as they say of “ Our Mr. So-and-So ’—in France and Belgium in the Autumn of 1914; since when the Lower Third has considered me competent to answer such palpitating questions as, “ You don’t think the War’ll be over before I’m eighteen, do you, Sir?” and simply scrums for the honour of doing odd jobs for me—so I don’t mind the old ladies. At odd times, when Junior House matches call greater men away, the Lower Third plays “The Dregs’’: such, that is, of higher forms as are not wanted by Houses. These are great days, not without their ritual either. Directly after first school, Bendall mu, who leads our host, comes up to my desk. “Please, Sir,” he says—the formu!a never varies—‘‘we’re playing ‘The Dregs’ this afternoon.” “ Yes, Bendall.” “Please, Sir, I s’pose you wouldn’t care to play for us, would you, Sir?” “T should like to very much, if you can get somebody to run for me.” “Oh, please, Sir,” this not only from Bendall but also from ten other young scamps who have edged up during the conversation—“ oh, please, Sir, I’ll run for you.” So by second school a large sheet of paper has been pinned on the form board, inscribed :-— “ NoTICE. “On the 6th inst.” —“ That’s to-day,” as Bendall loftily explains to the less literate members of the form—‘ Shen- stone School, Lower Third Form, will play ‘The Dregs’ on the Shenstone fchool Ground. Commencing ’’—al- tered when Bendall thinks of it to “ Beginning,” in deference to an absurd prejudice of mine—“ at 2.30 p.m. sharp. ‘Shenstone School Lower Third Form.” Then a column of ten names, and always at the end :— “B. J. Benpaut (Capt.)” Then after a respectful interval :— «T. K. F. Merton, Esq., late Lieut. the W Regiment ”—I shall never live this down if the Lower Third can help it-— ‘has kindly consented to | the off-stump—such stuff as dreams | are made of. It is the ball the Head can play; he cuffed it sharply past cover “*The Dregs’ will be allowed two|into the few yards of longish grass extra men.” that fringe the boundary wall and But they rarely get them, for, when | started to run; it was an easy two. we are struggling with the account of | And here Knox comes into the story. another war in which the Belge took| Knox is blessed with a sense of a part, there generally comes a little | humour, and is, I believe, a boy with a note: “The Headmaster wishes to| future. He certainly has a past, the know if the Lower Third minds his/essential point of which just then playing for ‘The Dregs’ this afternoon.” | concerned a broken window, as yet The form solemnly answers in the} unreported. At that moment he was negative. So we do these things in|umpiring at square leg. As the ball style at Shenstone, you see. with a final hop settled down just The Head, I ought to explain, was a | inside the fringe, he waved his hand to rowing man and is sometimes to be|the scorer, walked gravely to his seen even now wearing, unbuttoned, | wicket, pocketed the bails, and turned a faded Leander blazer; moreover, he | again towards the pavilion. We always will come near to ranking as one of the | stop when a side has won. The Lower great Headmasters, but he is no bat.}Third opened its mouth. “I say,” it Yet even such critics as the Lower|began. But such presence of mind as Third admire the way he stops hot | this should not go unrewarded; besides, ones at cover and takes, without| Knox is rather a pal of mine, and I assist the form.” And then this subtle compliment :— flinching, fast full-pitches on _his| knew that for once in a way the window thighs—a not uncommon ball with us. | wasn’t really his fault. “Oh, good On this particular 6th ult.—as Ben-| shot, Head,” I said; “that gives you dall would have it —his wife and|the odd, I think.” The Head, who daughter came to watch us, a very | learned long ago to keep his eyes in special favour for such a humble game|the boat, beamed with genuine and | as ours, but rather a “ fearful joy,” for, unsuspecting pleasure. to teli the honest truth, I am not a “Not often I get a four off you, little frightened of the Headmaster’s | Bendall,” he said. ; lady, who is a very grande dame. A few minutes later, as he was tuck- Of all dull things, about the dullest is a detailed account of small cricket : how Harrison made them go with his arm, and Smith snicked three fours in succession, and Reynolds missed a sitter at point. The bare fact is that we made 66, Bendall and I hitting up a merry 25 for the last wicket before I dragged a laggard foot over the crease, and was stumped in the excitement of the moment by Haddon of “ The Dregs.” Poor kid, he nearly wept when he realised what he’d done, and he couldn’t say anything either, because, | you see, it’s a very great secret that I’m not to be stumped now, and we never so much as hint at it. Now I hope you haven’t been bracing yourselves for a dramatic end- ing—to see, for instance, Thomson, who has been reported twice and will be swished next time, bowl the Head amidst the cheers of his class-mates, or the small pale-faced new boy save the game by hitting the bully for SIX. | dend of 10.2754 per cent., free of tax, be As a matter of fact it was rather an anti- | declared, leaving £7,452 to be carried for- climax, though it had all the makings | ward.’’"—Morning Paper. of a good finish, too. The Head joined | It is a nice dividend, but the income-tax the last Dreg when their score was will take some calculating. 63. Bendall bowled. One day Ben- dall will be good, and even now he can be trusted to get the Headmaster’s | spirit that to-day inspires our British forces. wicket twice an over; but luckily for Times of India. authority his first ball was a bad one,| We fear our contemporary must have short, a nice height and just outside, been reading the other Times. chancing to pass by, made casual mention of a window. It was a neat piece of work; but he wasn’t through yet. One of the spectators was piqued at having to watch mere Dregs at play; besides, I shrewdly suspect that Miss- in-her-teens had wanted to see a Senior House Match that day. ‘You know, father,’ she said inno- cently, “that last ball wasn’t touching | the wall.” She shot a glance at Knox, | so did the Head. “They do bounce back a bit sometimes, Sir,” said that warrior blandly. The very ghost of a smile flickered | on the Head's lips. “My dear,” he said, “the umpire’s | decision is final. Er, you might come and see me after tea about that window, | Knox.” But I don’t think it was so very bad. ‘« The directors now recommend that a divi- ‘«¢To go anywhere and do nothing’ is the ” ing his pads into his bag, Knox, |:

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aj ba] n Rn you, | ick- | 10X, |: sual | eat ugh ued lay; | iss- nior ino- ing | 10X, | nce | shat red | | re’s ome | ow, | bad. = — =f 1) ms ZS i a) nN WA LN wD To the Inha PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Aveusr 18, 1915. \ GK TAL DP eS JOD NN IN pai wy ' hitants of Warsaw —. WeE wage war only against hostile troops , Kin WO)... ‘ PN NAL Mm in ida lay TRY 7 we Ge 8 , ads | hh )) Rol | Base “0 ~ > 3 . 4 ae ASD ~ WORDS- ae , “i rtd as eyape —-AND DEEDS. SS NOT agai ges peaceful citizens 7 See ai \\g ONT WH) win WUD) a PM & > iif 2 EI oN = so". Sea

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|“ Nothing official,” he replied, “andj with my staff, receiving wireless reports | it’s only official news that I care for|from my cruiser squadrons, arranging }now. My head? Oh, that’s nearly all the coaling and supply of my many Avueust 18, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. BY ® BNET VAN — (ie THE CIVILIAN. a 7 2 \7 z from the labours of the night, my tem- THE THIRD NIGHT. perature had risen to 102 Nata and Tue Territorial soldier shook his the doctor looked very grave. ‘You bandaged head sadly as he threw the | must get a good night’s rest to-night,’ evening special away in disgust. I he said. That night I went to sleep, stopped my promenade in the Park and again I had a dream of horrible and sat down beside him on the seat. intensity. I dreamt I was the Admiral “No news this evening,” I said, by|in command of the Grand Fleet. All way of starting the conversation.|night long I was poring over charts | right now, thanks; but it was a bad|ships, sending out patrol flotillas and ; scalp wound when I first got it, and I issuing orders to my submarine squad- | | had a most remarkable escape. It was|rons. That night I realised the meaning | | not the actual wound but the mental | of the word admiral in war-time. | | shock that made the first three days so | /new plans for the advance next day, | receiving innumerable telegrams and | telephone messages, moving brigades | up on one flank, withdrawing divisions you get a good night’s rest to-night | “Next morning I could barely speak The first night I had the | from exhaustion; my temperature had I dreamt | risen to 104, and my condition caused | dangerous. most terribly realistic dream. I was the Commander-in-Chief. The! the doctor to look very grave. I ex- whole night long I was kept frantically plained the situation to him. ‘If you| busy, consulting my staff, making out| must dream,’ he said, ‘dream more = | modestly. Dream that you are some- | one who has neither responsibility nor | danger to face. I warn you that unless from the other. Never in my life | you will have brain fever and your case before did I realise the immense strain | will be hopeless.’ and responsibility of being a field- | “That night I was given a heavy marshal on active service. Next morn-|sleeping draught, bags of ice were ing when I awoke, mentally exhausted! packed round my head, and I was left them would be fatal to my repose. to face what I realised was the crisis of my life. I tried to imagine-a person who had neither responsibility nor danger to face in these stirring times. Believe me, it is a most difficult pro- blem. I thought of every profession from a bishop to a burglar, but I found that the War had complicated the lives of every one, and to dream of any of At last in despair I fell asleep. “Next morning I awoke feeling greatly refreshed ; my temperature was normal; in fact I was saved ig “ What did you dream you were that night?” I interrupted anxiously. “A Special Correspondent at the Front,’”’ said the soldier. ‘*The Socialist Deputy, Compere Morel, points out that the party truce was brought about by force of circumstances, and no FrFeFnFchman could refuse to join the union of national forces in resisting the criminal aggressor.”—Lincolnshire Echo. The Deputy may stammer a bit, but his heart’s all right. ‘*Strayed to Ayleford Farm, Blakeney, a Welsh Ewe and Plain Sewing; knowledge of Dressmaking.”—Gloucester Citizen. Wool-work a speciality.

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| | “let me. 146 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL [Aueusr 18, 1915. MY FRIEND’S CRUTCHES. No sooner did the train pull up at the station at noon than I hurried down to the sea front, feeling certain of finding the Captain either sitting or strolling there before lunch. For other- wise why select this famous health- resort to recover in? But I sought him and his crutches in vain. Giving him up, I made for the secluded house which the energetic little Mrs. Captain (who could not but look on his mis- fortune as a blessing since it kept him longer in England) had discovered for him ; and there, sure enough, he was, in the tiny back garden, slowly plodding round and round an infinitesimal lawn. cricket. To think that TrumpER’s dead. I saw it in a paper in Bel- gium—‘ Death of Victor TrumPER ’— and it put the sun clean out for a while. That beautiful style! Do you remember him making all the bowling look like tosh at the Oval that day?” “Do I remember? Shall I ever forget it?” “And what a name,” he went on —Victor Trumper! Yes, yes, old thing,” he broke off under a fusillade of rebukes from my hostess, “I’ll come back to the point. Well, as soon as I could get about we came down here, and on the first day I took my crutches “ And that’s all he'll do,” said little;and hobbled down to the parade. never mind about my grotesque leg. | ing the hand of one who had so suffered Let’s forget the leg and talk about) for his country; and then a blazing old lunatic took his hat off right at me and said it was an honour to salute one of England’s heroes.” “So you are,” said little Mrs. Captain stoutly. “Oh, do stop talking balderdash!” said her husband. “I put it to you,” he added to me, “what could any ordinary decent man do but get back here, away from the genuine lot of wounded as soon as possible, and lie low?” “Isn’t he absurd — isn’t he too ridiculous?” little Mrs. Captain ex- claimed. “ Fancy carrying a conscience like that about in a world like this!” “I need hardly say,” the Captain Mrs. Captain in some in- dignation. “ Here we are /in an expensive house, A re Ra go at an expensive watering-| *, 7 ¢ Y, Up, place, for no other purpose | SLs 24) % than that he may get the | 1 aah sea air and be amused by |: bi?” q 4 | ly the people, and he won't gag leave this poky back gar-| den.” “ But, my dear old idiot,” said the Captain, “ you know the reason why well enough. You know I can’t go out.” “T know you're a ridi- culous super - sensitive egotistical person,” she retorted, “and you ought to live on a planet of your own.” “Do tell me,” I said. “ Well,” she began. “ No,” said the Captain, She’ll put me G.1 5 “Uff S fo \ G \} be “. Von NOT TO BE BAULKED. Volunteer. “I say, you Boys, I CAN’T FIND THE BATTLE I’m gsupPp- POSED TO BE IN. Do you THINK I MIGHT JOIN youRS?”’ >| 7, F a. : = — “MN eo “ : ~\\ A 5 0 (FB TiS continued, “that I came in for some pointed do- ca it mestic criticism, and under “iy \its influence — and it’s ‘fairly potent, you know,” ‘he remarked in paren- | thesis, throwing his wife a kiss—“ under its influ- ence I consented to go out | again, but only on con- dition that I might put myself right with the public.” “ Do listen to this,” said Mrs. Captain—‘the dear / old snob!” “Not at all,” said her ‘husband. “ It isn’t snob- | bish to wish not to deceive. | Anyway, snobbish or not | —and we shall never agree about this—I had to be straight with myself, so I prepared a placard to ‘the effect that my broken yy. lal That’s what we’d come for, and I|leg had nothing to do with the War, never had a second thought about it.;and hung it on one of my crutches But this place, as perhaps you have) where everyone could read; and would in a false light, this hateful woman.” | After a brief skirmish little Mrs. Captain gave way. “To begin with,” said her husband, | noticed, is full of wounded men—really | “you will admit that my position is} wounded men, decently injured by | about as foolish as any man’s can be.; bullets and shrapnel and the other To be in the trenches for four months honourable apparatus of war—and without a scratch, and then, the day | before I realised the situation, there I after reaching home on leave, to break | was all among them—I, the only fraud one’s leg fooling about with a pack there.” of children—you ’ll agree that absurdity! “Fraud!” I interjected. ‘“ What couldn’t go much farther than that. | rubbish you talk! After four months Undignified, too. It’s like being run in the trenches, too.” “The ' lob. over by a donkey-cart—as A. J. WEBBE | said when SHERWIN took off the wicket- keeping gloves and bowled him with a My hat!” he sighed in paren- thesis, “to think that once upon a time cricket used to be played!” “The back garden is still waiting for the explanation,” the practical little Mrs. Captain broke in. “ Never mind about cricket.” “Hear her,” groaned the warrior. “*Never mind about cricket’! Rather, “That’s nothing,” he said. trenches are not the point. The point you believe it?” he went on bitterly, “within a few minutes I was bom- barded by a new set of old gentlemen and old ladies who wished to shake the hand of so candid a man. ‘Such a brave teller of the truth,’ they said. So there you are. And now you under- stand why I prefer our back garden to all the waves of the English Channel. Here, at any rate, I am not a fraud, nor am I offered compliments on being merely commonly honest.” “Did you ever hear of such non- sense?” little Mrs. Captain inquired, as she slipped her arm into his. “ Bless his absurd old heart!” is that I was on crutches from a leg broken in the silliest possible way at home, and these fellows were on crutches with legs properly crocked up at the Front. I tell you the realisation gave me a shock. Talk about wolves in sheep’s clothing: I was the very limit. I was quickly made to feel it, for before I could get out of it up comes an old lady to insist on the privilege of shak- How to Become a Nut. An article in Healthward Ho! Mr. Eustace MILEs’ magazine, is entitled, “Man is What He Eats.”

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sred ing too nee ! ” bain ume do- der it’s w,” ren- vife flu- out on- put the said lear her ob- ive. not sree be so to ken Jar, hes wuld rly, »m- nen the h a So ler- 1 to nel. ud, ing on- red, less Mr. led, Avueust 18, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARIL. 147 A mattis Mi tis 1G& | Kind-hearted Old Lady (who simply cannot stand seeing nice-looking young subaltern UMBRELLA OVER YOU.”’ getting wet through), ‘‘ LET ME HOLD MY THE TOO COMPLEAT ANGLER. . “We will take Bruce,” said Wilhel- mina yesterday afternoon. Bruce is our retriever. At least he began by being a retriever and tried to change into a spaniel afterwards, but it was too late. He loves mud, water and sofa-cushions in the order named. “Faithful and willing” the advertise- ment said when we bought him, so of course, as Wilhelmina insisted, he had to come, though George kept on saying it was very risky. I love dogs myself; there is some- thing so spontaneous about them: but we know now that it is better not to take them out fishing on the lake. When we were all in the boat, Wilhelmina announced that she was going to fish with a small submarine barbed all over with horrible hooks ; she said the trout in the lake always mistook it for a minnow at first. “ And afterwards ?” I asked. “There never is any afterwards for them, poor things; you can always land them—even the biggest. It’s such a tempting bait. now, twirling in the air . Bruce snapped vigorously. The sky suddenly fell upwards and —— ” I found myself on my back staring up at the heavens. Bruce planted his feet on my chest and scrabbled with his hind legs. Wilhelmina asked with a calm detachment if anybody had got a pair of scissors. George said he had a presentiment all along. At that moment Adolphus put his head out of the water to see what the 'trouble was about. Adolphus is our tame pike; he lived in the time of OLIVER CROMWELL to begin with, and ‘he simply hates anything indecorous. | When he saw us he frowned severely. | Bruce tried to bark, but failed in the ‘upward swing of the jaw, and closed | his mouth very hurriedly. “ Well, of course I shouldn’t try to lick them off. What an idea! And, anyhow, it’s entirely the dog’s own fault ; he should have looked down his nose before licking.” By this time George had found a knife and cut the minnow off after a severe struggle ; the haoks, however, still remained, and Bruce was not so grateful as he might have been. When | we got ashore the suffering creature | was led into the garage and anesthetics were administered; but this is not a | medical treatise. Bruce wagged his tail when I went | fishing this morning, but it was no good and I went out alone. After “ You had better row home,” I said, | lunch I am going out with a revolver “T can see the clouds very well from | here, and it looks like rain; and don’t | let Bruce bleed over my waistcoat like | 'submarine, and I never got a bite the |that. Do get him off my chest.” to stalk Adolphus. Would you believe last night warning the trout about our | “How horrid you are to mind a| whole morning? | little blood,” said Wilhelmina; “ haven’t |you any sympathy for a poor dumb animal?” “Poor what animal?” ** Poor dumb animal was what I said. 'tongue caught in a third in trying to lick them off.” | (Sole charge). Kultur. ‘*Governess Wanted, English, French, or Belgian, for unruly and headstrong girl of 16. Usual subjects (no German or music or drawing). Strict disciplinarian and Just look at it; You’d grumble if you had two fish- | prepared to use corporal punishment.”’ |hooks in your nose, and got your| Daily Telegraph. In the circumstances the exclusion of | German is most inappropriate. lit, that reprobate old pike spent all |

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| Whereas when you lay out a spread _I mount on wings of hope instead,

| Not that I make you this appeal 148 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. {[Aueust 18, 1915.

MEALS AND THE MAN. (A correspondent of a contemporary de- clares that our moods of depression and optimism in regard to the War vary according to the quality of our meals.) WHEN you would save the casual sov., Though hard the task should prove and harder, Believe me, ’twere not wise, my love, To squeeze it from the local larder; Through a desire to put more flesh on; No, but I find a tasty meal Restrains a leaning towards depres- sion. You must yourself be well aware That when you dish me up a diet Composed of all the coarsest fare, I suffer from a sore disquiet ;

Which might appease the nicest. “ party,” An optimist pronounced and hearty. Since, then, ’tis up to each and all, Even when things look none too rosy, Bravely to face whate’er befall And see a future safe and cosy ; When your expectant spouse you feed Entirely to his satisfaction, ‘Tis patent you perform indeed A highly patriotic action. But when the clash of war is hushed And WILHELM mourns his bloody malice ; When he and all his Huns are crushed And Peace re-occupies her palace; At ease for ever and a day, Dear mistress of my home, why then you With my most willing sanction may Resume my ordinary menu.

“M. OR N.” THE trouble began at breakfast yes- terday. | wy.

“I’ve almost decided on Myfanwy,” | Millicent remarked, without preface. | « Heavens,” I said, “ what is it? <A/ junction on the Cambrian Railway ?” “No, it isn’t,” said Millicent. “It’s. the name I’ve practically chosen for | baby—and a very pretty one, too.” “ All change for Criccieth,” I said. | “Pass the marmalade, please.” “Don't you like ‘Myfanwy’?” Milli- | card,‘ Myfanwy Blake’! She's coming | “T think it’s so uncom-!again for a further consultation on | cent asked. mon.” | So,” I said, “is Iphigenia or} Sophonisba or Beetroota. Can’t you. think of something better?” | “Well, I thought,” said Millicent,! card. I brought it so that you could| understand his own department so well “of Allfreda first, but someone suggested see how nice Myfanwy really looks | as a clever outsider like Viraiu. | Myfanwy and | was awfully taken with it. Still 1’m not sure, after all, that I don’t prefer 7ilfreda. Yes,’ she added, after a few moments’ reflection, ‘“ it shall be AZlfreda.”’ “Oh, any old thing you like,” I said, “1 don’t see that it makes much differ- ence to me. I shall probably call her ‘ Billy’ anyway.” The fact is I am fond of homely names for general use. Our elder daughter, whose Christian names are Diana Vansittart—the latter a family name—is invariably called ‘Jim,’ while Ralph Hugo Vansittart, our only son, has been known as ‘Thomas’ from birth. “¢ Wilhelmina,’”’ said Millicent, ‘would be the most appropriate name | for her if you insist on calling her ‘ Billy.’” ‘“Much too Prussian,” I said. ‘ And now I think of it, A®lfreda’s Saxon, which is nearly as bad.” “Then it’s simply got to be Myfan- “Che sara, sara,” I said. “No, thank you,” said Millicent. “No Bible names. You must make up your mind to Myfanwy unless you can think of some other name even more | beautiful. I’ve given myself several headaches over this job already.” “Well,” said Millicent as we met at tea, “ has anything struck you?” “Not even a ‘Black Maria.’ By the way,” I said, “ there’s a name for you. Short—and appropriate to the martial times we live in.” “ Very horrid,” said Millicent. “T felt you'd say that. But it’s all right. think?” “How on earth should I know?” said Millicent. “Myfanwy,” I said. “ Uncommon, pretty and all that.” “ Why, that’s the very name I sug- gested at breakfast,” she said indig- nantly. “By Jove! so it is,” I said. ‘ Well, all the better. You see, the fact is we had a good many callers at the office to-day, and among them a very pretty ‘girl, who came to consult us about a When she sent her card in I will. said ‘ Eureka. “T thought you said ‘Myfanwy, said Millicent. “T said that too. I read it off the Wednesday.” Millicent sniffed. ‘“ You're making it up,” she said sternly. “T’m not,” I said. ‘ Here’s her The ‘‘Entente” Letter Writer. | Bread-and-butter letter to the lady | of the last billet :-— I’ve decided on—what do you | ce carte espérance il trouvers vous tout puits | when you see it in black and white. And now of course the name will always have a charming association for me.” * * * * Nora Vansittart is howling in her cradle as I write.

“QUAT’ SOUS LAIT.” Marie Thérése is passing fair, Marie Thérése has red gold hair, Marie Thérése is passing shy, And Marie Thérése is passing by ; Soldiers lounging along the street Smile as they rise to their aching feet, And with aching hearts they make their way After the maiden for quat’ sous lait.

| Beer in the mug is amber brown, | Beer in the mug is the stuff to drown Dust and drought and a parching thirst; | Beer in the mug comes an easy first, | Except when Marie Thérése is near, With the sun in her tresses so amber clear ; Then quickly we leave our estaminets For Marie Thérése’s quat’ sous lait.

Yvonne Pol of La Belle Frangaise Cannot compare with Marie Thérése ; | Berthe of the ““Ccq”’ looks old and staid | | When one but thinks of our dairymaid; | Beer in the mug is good to quench | Thirsts of men who can speak no French; | Heaven is ours who can smile and say, “Marie Thérése, give me quat’ sous lait.”

‘* Cher Mademoisel Marie,—Je juste envoyer

comme il permissions me a cadeau.”’

‘* Lost, July 3rd, a pink and grey pet talking Parrot; says ‘ Want to come out.’ ”’ | | Unlike most orators, he seems to have | | got what he wanted.

Extract from a Madrasi’s letter :— ‘Further I beg to state that I am not in possession to explain the calamity and the critical juncture in which I put much difficul- ties in the practical life of eating, drinking, sleeping and thinking of the material things | that surround us; and I am rolling up and | down in this false world merely for want of food for this tremendous belly, so I humbly beg to request your honour as any appoint- | ment in your honour’s control."’ | |

From an answer to an examination paper :— | ‘Vergil’s view of Purgatory is both novel jand fascinating, and it seems to be more | likely to be true than other forms, such as | Pluto’s, &c.’’ |Of course Pluto was not likely to

—

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5. Aveust 18, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 149 will | | THE STANDARD DRESS COMES HOME. : ‘ : ' [It has been suggested, in connection with the Thrift campaign, that all ladies should adopt one form of evening dress, as men do, and one only.) feet, 1ake wn ist; st, | a nber | | ets | se; | staid aid ; nch; ow ’ | | ELL, I ’m——’’ “ ’ say, | ’ Let’s GET RID OF THE SLEEVES”’ ‘‘AND HALF THE BODICE.”’ it.” | lady | voyer | puits | king | have | ot in 1 the fficul- king, hings » and nt of imbly point- ation novel more ch as | y to ) well sé Cu AW + ‘ ” owt > 2 + 7 T AWAY, MY GOOD GIRL. Now WE’LL USE UP THE BITS YOU'VE CUT OFF.”’ ‘‘ Nor 60 BAD, AFTER ALL!”’ —— —

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. [Auausr 18, 1915, " ‘ ret i) 'Y - ey in iy M ¥ o S—_ 1 Mother. ‘‘ComE ALONG, TONY; COME DOWNSTAIRS—IT’S TIME FOR DINNER.”’ Tony (who has closely studied the troops drilling in the Park, likewise the words of command given to the men). ‘* WHY THE BLAZES DON’T YOU SAY ‘’ALT’?”’ “LIGHT CRUISERS (OLD).” (Vide Naval Expert's Classification.) WHEN you've marshalled your navies and gloried your fill In the latest they show of invention and skill, The lion in strength and the lizard in speed, The watchful in waiting, the present in need, The great Super-Dreadnoughts gigantic and grim, The thirty-knot cruisers both subtle and slim, The weight and the range of each wonderful gun— Remember the cruisers, the out-of-date cruisers, The creaky old cruisers whose day is not done, Built some time before Nineteen-hundred-and-one. You may look to the South, you may seek in the North, You may search from the Falklands as far as the Forth— From Pole unto Pole all the oceans between, Patrolling, protecting, unwearied, unseen, By night or by noonday the Navy is there, And ‘the out-of-date cruisers are doing their share! Yes, anywhere, everywhere, under the sun, You will find an old cruiser, an off-the-map cruiser, An out-of-date cruiser whose work ’s never done, Built some time before Nineteen-hundred-and-one. It may be you'll meet with her lending a hand In clearing a way for the soldiers to land— Escorting an army, and feeding it too, Or sinking a raider (and saving her crew), Blockading by sea or attacking by dry land, Bombarding a coast or annexing an island ; Where there’s death to be daring or risk to be run You may look for the cruiser, the out-of-date cruiser, The creaky old cruiser that harries the Hun (Built some time before Nineteen-hundred-and-one). In wild nights of Winter, when warmly you sleep, She is plugging her way through the dark and the deep, With death in the billows which endless do roll, And the wind blowing cold with the kiss of the Pole, While seas slopping over both frequent and green Call forth on occasion expressions of spleen. Of all the old kettles award we the bun To the out-of-date cruiser, the obsolete cruiser, The creaky old cruiser whose work’s never done, Built some time before Nineteen-hundred-and-one. And when the Day breaks for whose smoke-trail afar We scan the grey waters by sunlight and star, The day of great glory—the splendour, the gloom, The lightning, the thunder, the judgment, the doom, The breaking of navies, the shaking of kings, When the Angel of Battle makes night with his wings... Oh, somewhere, be sure, in the thick o’ the fun You will find an old cruiser, a gallant old cruiser, A creaky old cruiser whose day is not done, Built some time before Nineteen-hundred-and-one.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Aveusr 18, 1915. W\ \\\\\ \\ WA THE ANSWER. MUST,’ ‘THOU DUTY WHISPERS LOW, Y ALL “WHEN ‘I CAN.’” REPLY, 7 u THI Emerson (adapted).

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| Avevsr 18, 1915] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 153 th Mell Ny Mi MN il 7 NEw / ( | DRAM | | } | = | Z Acadia = , ' LAA ‘ S fyag | TWENTY Ni Tmt | / oe | ACTS \\Nh THOMAS Ss Whale | \ Wy e ie. AM i o> |) Criiac ' | | Ween, jai! wt y HA he, ; » Ph Vi iN Bessit ‘ it wilh ' i) { i if Ah Pa ~ ’ - at | | 4 "LEADS BY FF —_ * Chatty Stranger (to manager of Cinema Palace). ‘‘ How ARE THINGS WITH YOU THESE Days?”? Manager. ‘‘OH, s0-SO. BUT WE’RE GETTING FRIGHTFULLY SHORT-HANDED HERE, YOU KNOW. WE’VE LOST THREE OF OUR DOORMEN ALREADY,” |He was simply a clerk in the City, whose humble weekly | TWO HEROES. screw | | Ir ever I’m asked to mention the bravest possible act, | Amounted, and still amounts, to the total of two pounds | | Or the most sublime example of cautiousness and tact ; | two. I haven't the least compunction, the slightest mental x ' , qualm P : Yet, unarmed and single-handed, with a nerve no shock could scare, | | kn answering the question or disteibuting the palm. | He called on the only Quarirtcu, in his formidable lair, | | The man of the most discretion that ever I chanced to meet | And asked the chief assistant, a terrible man to attack, Was neither a sleek attaché nor a magnate of Lombard| Had he got a second-hand copy of Whitaker's Almanack, Street ; He was rely + brewer. w ; - » tnt e was merely a country brewer, who went for a tour to “Absent yet Present.” | Rome, age! ‘‘Tf a person leaves home after receiving a form, but before | 7; = : ; . > Ej sa | - s . . “ With a party who gained an audience from the Pore in his | August 15th, he should take it with him and hand it when filled up stately home. | to the enumerator who calls at the address where he is temporarily | absent.’’—Cambridge Daily News. The Hoty FaruHer was gracious, and greeted him with a | smile ; | , “ He asked me several questions in French, but my French | A correspondent of The Globe on Lord Hapane :— e q ; : . | ‘* He weighed himself in the balance and shows himself wanting.”’ is vile, : So I never attempted to answer, for I honestly declare | Surely not the Hatpane we know! I couldn’t be sure if his title was Saint or Sacré Pére.” : ——— ; F ‘* Prince Poachim’s share of the loot included a Troika team.” And the man who, in my opinion, as the bravest stands Freeman's Journal. revealed | We tender our congratulations to the printer on his happy Has never been decorated for valour in the field ; effort.

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154 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Auveust 18, 1915,

|Possibly, but Norrucurre fit non | nascitur. I had no trouble with him till that paper was put at the bottom of his I HAD only one German to look after.|cage. He didn’t seem the same bird No, it is not true that I disliked him. |after that. He would puff out his chest He was the most musical of the lot.|and look at me with those beady eyes, A great eater, of course, perhaps the and his chirp seemed to say, “ Pig of a most voracious of them all; I don’t! Britisher, not even NorTHCLIFFE can know how many meals a day he wanted. | save you from me!” But still the beggar could sing, and he| I am not embroidering. You have paid for everything in notes, in a heard of the Elberfeld horses? You manner of speaking. jhave heard of NorTucuirFeE? You Gave himself airs? Well, no, not at|know where the Harz Mountains are? first, in that sense of the word. Yet|A German canary must be a super-bird. when he puffed out his chest and looked | Everything there is super. Norra | at you pityingly with those small eyes|cLirFe and the Kaiser will both be IN HIS OWN DEFENCE. [A kind of a Fable with a sort of a Moral.)

of his, you could see that a spiked helmet was all he needed. supers soon? Yes; but Iam inno mood

for jesting; my wife returns this Friday. “THE DAY.” (In Fact, Two Days.) Economy in “ week-ends” is a pro- posal of The Daily News which presents points of interest to the statistician. If we abolish Saturday and Sunday (as we assume is suggested) we should steal two days’ march on the Germans —an important matter when time is vital—unless, of course, they attempt reprisals by cutting out, say, Tuesday and Wednesday. The War costing us three millions a day, we should save six millions a week. We should advance the cause of temperance (unless the munition worker should compress into Monday the refreshment normally consumed in

Oh, we were kind enough to him, and I don’t think he was unhappy at first. He could not have got away if he wanted ; I saw to the fastening of the doors myself, and there’s nothing in the way of bolts and bars that Ihave to learn. Sounds as if I was preparing my defence? I am. Oh, yes, there’ll be an inquest right enough. Next Friday. It’s not true I didn’t like him. Nothing could be more untrue. He had himself to blame for what occurred, he and perhaps Wilkins. It was Joffre who killed him. * Wilkins? Yes, an old soldier and fitted for jobs like these! Mind you, I

aA =< nyreile

on, Dick. car WUT, |

Wij ry / { WF iF) Bluejacket to his shipmate (both fresh from a fierce action). “OH, COME "AVE ONE, AND DON’T BE SO BLOOMIN’ UNPATRIOTIC.” |

/ ] {| RT ea IS /) three days), and hasten the payment of dividends on War Loans. The innovation would bear hardly on Sunday papers, Church collections jand seaside boarding /houses. By synchronis- jing yesterday morning | with to-morrow _ astro- nomical calculations would be disturbed and_ ships’ captains confused (al- though a day or two might be telegraphed out wirelessly to sailors occa- sionally to correct the |error), and grasping em- /ployers would no doubt in some cases seize the opportunity to omit the Saturday pay-day. But this movement might be extended. A

don’t blame Wilkins, a good man and a brave man, quite What happened? I saw him trying | proposal to abolish quarter days would meet with the whole-hearted uneducated, one of the old school, with to prise open the door with his beak.| support of the nation, and Summer deplorable tastes in literature. That |I feit cold to the bird, but I warned | afternoons might be doubled in length is what began it. You don’t think I shall be believed ? Oh, it’s quite simple. No, I am not casting about for any loophole of escape. Do I look like a man who would read that class of paper? I have too much self-respect, I hope. I did not know till afterwards that the Daily Northcliffe came into the house. Wilkins possibly read it. No, Wilkins is an old soldier. He must have bought it to put at the bottom of the birds’ cages. My wife was strict about that before she left. After all, there may be sense in what Wilkins did; I begin to see I may have wronged Wilkins. Yes, I quite see your point. But you know what women are. She adored that Harz Roller the best of them all. It is true I thought more of the bullfinch. Insular? Well, we |him about Joffre. I said there was no pacifist nonsense about the new black mouser. The old cat was too proud to do anything but lap milk. | You have guessed its name, though we used to call it Mary Anne. I advised Wilson to show a manifest toe, in a| manner of speaking, to Wilhelm. Per- haps she did, though she seemed to us | to be asleep. Well, if chirps have any meaning, | that poor bird seemed to shout, “I| will burst my way through! I will be| the only canary in the planet! Iam an) eagle, a super-eagle, a peri-hyper-super- | double-headed eagle ! And Joffre ate him.

donkey.’’—Ezeter Express. /under the Daylight Saving Act. A strong Minister of Chronology might be appointed with powers to baffle the enemy by some masterstroke such as that of leaving out Winter.

WARSAW. (Naturam expellas furca: tamen usque recurret.) THe KaisER may crow over Russia to-day, Forgetting to-morrow’s attack ; Like Nature he pitchforks her out of the way, Like Nature she's sure to come back.

‘«The war will be won, not by noisy jubila- tion nor by hysterical panic, but by steady, “Wanted, to hire, for month (preferably | relentless prosecution of our talk.”’ with hood), comfortable Bath Chair for | ‘There are people nearer home who ** Sun,’’ Vancouver. were both born on the same island. Is this a case of humanity or humility? | seem to be under the same impression.

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“d

Aveust 18, 1915.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 155

THE SUPREME SACRIFICE. Tue General commanding the British Expeditionary Force crossed one brown | leg over the other and leaned back | against the wiry grass in luxurious | abandon. It had been a thoroughly | satisfactory morning. Nine times had | the German lines of entrenchment been carried at the point of the bayonet and the inevitable counter attack repulsed with prodigious slaughter. Finally, vanquished in Homeric single combat, the opposing General had surrendered unconditionally, disdaining with a chiv- alry worthy of a better cause to plead the handicap he had suffered through acting as stretcher-bearer and _ field hospital to his victor when the latter, in the heat of conflict, had incautiously | placed a bare foot on the First Black | Watch, a battalion which the uniniti- | ated might excusably have mistaken | for the disused shell of a particularly | corpulent limpet. | Outwardly, it must be confessed, the | General failed to conform to the popular standard of the illustrated press.

In} the matter of sex she could only quote | the somewhat rusty precedent of Joan | or Arc, and her height, some three- | feet-six, would scarcely have satisfied | the least exigent of military require- | ments. The webbed bathing drawers, | too, which encased her nether limbs and what she was: pleased to term her petties, gave her at the moment some- thing of the appearance of a recumbent peg-top. For a time she let her thoughts wander in lazy contentment over the prospects of the midday meal, watching | with half-closed eyes the August sun | blazing upon the ripples of the bay and | on the opposing headland where the gorse ran in golden riot to the water's edge. Presently the sight of the sand- castle, which had served in turn for| every important fortress from Liége to Berlin, fast crumbling before the incom- | ing tide recalled her to the all-engross- ing topic. “ Will it be long before the Germans are really truly beaten, Daddy?” Her late foe stirred stiffly. “I’m afraid so, dear.” “Ts that because you can’t go and| fight them again?” It was scarcely a question ; the thing | was self-evident. Her world of men was divided with satisfying simplicity : | the lean brown six feet of humanity | against which she propped her bare | feet; and the rest. Of course there | were sub-divisions. For instance, she | had a penchant for the senior service and an entire absence of maidenly | reserve in declaring it. | But her words had started in the|

Sf. FL j 3 \ « tira

Ve ,

SS Z Ess ee Fi bcicod od

b - . ed est at ete a Darkie (to lady after a wordy war). ‘‘Is Yo’ DONE FINISHED ? FS: ee gee ae eave RETIN Ore ¥e DO |

” F Te a ae ieay 7 ' ne | Pt eh 4

For IF YO’ 18s, LET | ME TELL YO’, ALL THAT YO’ Says I AM, YO’ Is.”’

man’s mind a train of thought that was far from happy. Almost bitterly he reviewed the events of the past year. A promising career abandoned ; months | of strenuous training, months spent apart from the child whom he had never left before for a single day; and |then, before he had even caught the longed-for sight of the enemy, an un- lucky shell and a shattered knee; | weary months in hospital, and lastly the parting words of the kindly grey- haired surgeon :— “I’m afraid you'll have to take it very easy. ... Golf, I daresay. Ten- nis? Well, some day perhaps.” It all seemed so useless. Presently instinct warned her that all was not well. Cautiously she moved so as to get a better view of his face. No, she was right; something was the matter. The cause was beyond

her, but clearly it was a case for | womanly comfort. Suddenly he felt her arms about his neck. <a “Daddy,” she whispered, ‘“to- | morrow J’ll be Germans, an’ the next | day, an’”—breathlessly, lest her resolution should fail—* an’ every day. You shall never be beaten again.”

Ceremonial Ablutions. ‘«« At a meeting of the Privy Council yester- day Mr. Lloyd George was sworn in as Minister of Munitions. The new privy councillors whose names appeared in the list of birthday honours also took the bath.’’ “ The Englishman,’’ Calcutta.

*©£12 12 0. Very handsome Sheraton bedroom suite, beautifully inland.’’ Yorkshire Telegraph. Thus furnished, purchaser can sleep | quietly through a Zeppelin raid.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Aveust 18, 1915. THE WATCH DOGS. XXVI. My pear CuHarLEs,—We do not spend all our days in the trenches. I cannot tell you exactly where we do} spend them, but some days find us| artfully concealed not far away ready to dash forward and add to the confusion in any emergency. Near this spot is a| little pool amongst the trees surrounded by rushes. The other night, about the hour of last post, a disturbance was created in the trenches and we had the alarm. In less time than it takes to tell all were alert and standing to; dispositions were made, extra ammuni- tion and emergency rations were issued, cigarette-cases had been filled and com- panies were ready to move off. And so we waited, prepared for anything and everything, all agog, until the sounds died down and it became clear that the matter in hand was some private affair of the people on duty in the trenches. In dismissing my little lot I thought fit to have the roll called ; our old friend, the sanitary man, was missing. Excitement at once became intense again; the sanitary man, with or without his apparatus, is usually so particularly present. Had he gone forth alone to tackle the enemy single- handed, as he tackles the flies, with his cresol and his chloride of lime? We called him, we whistled him, we searched for him high and low, but all in vain, We were just giving up hope and beginning to speak kindly of him as of a thing of the past when I thought fit to search the pool. And there, among the rushes, he was— fishing. I have been informed of two import- ant events, outside our unit but in the area. The first concerns three das- tardly privates who were caught red- handed at the prohibited gambling. The whole lot, cards and all, were apprehended and placed in the custody of the guard-room, pending their ap- pearance at orderly-room next morning. It transpired, but not during the pro- ceedings, that in the interval between arrest and trial they compensated themselves and, so to speak, consoli- dated their position by teaching the guard their method of play and mulct- ing every member of it of every penny he possessed. The other incident con- cerns the artillery. Nobody who has been in the trenches will contradict me when I say that our field batteries, whatever other faults they may have, do love being really busy. Give them a job and they will concentrate their whole selves on it, thinking of nothing else by night or day. I shall not be giving anything away if I say that this is a spot at which many of the smaller batteries, each having its pri- vate beat, converge. Opposite, behind the enemy lines, a tall chimney-stack had too long remained intact. “It is an observation post,” said the Field Batteries assembled in secret conclave ; “it isa menace. To-morrow morning shortly after dawn we shall remove it.” The hour was fixed, the very second was agreed upon. At the scheduled moment every gun in every battery was to be laid upon it and, at the send- ing up of a signal, battery fire was to be opened, continuing till the chimney discontinued. You may imagine what sleepless nights were spent, with what a concentrated fever of expectation and anticipation all concerned fixed their glasses on the target at dawn and waited .... Meanwhile one of those large and imperturbable monsters known as “Mother” had arrived by night, un- beknownst, some miles in the rear.. As soon as it was light she looked about her for some convenient object on which to try her strength, any old target suit- able for a preliminary canter with a singleton shell. And on the horizon she saw a chimney stack which, she thought, would do as well as anything, else. I hope, Charles, that you have mixed with field gunners, so that you may realize the true inwardness of the final tableau. don’t suppose there was a single man, from the Chaplain to the Officers’ mess cook, who was not standing there waiting for that sig- nal and the to-do which should follow it. The affair was so beautifully timed that the signal actually did go up, just about three-fifths of a second after the chimney had come down. . . . I con- fess that, on hearing the story, I instinctively gave all my sympathies to the German infantry in the trenches thereabouts. In our own trenches we have a listening post so close to the enemy that all conversation in it is conducted in a whisper. The Brigadier, with his retinue, inspected it the other day. “T’ve ’eard summut,” whispered the listener with a grave air. A smile of pride in the efficiency of his men spread over the Company Commander’s face ; the C.O. prepared himself to accept, with becoming modesty, any praise that was going; the Brigade Major produced his Field Service Pocket Book; the Adjutant sharpened his pencil and the Brigadier officially de- manded the details. ‘Indeed, Sir,” whispered the listener, “I ’eard sum- mut as it might be bacon frizzlin’ over a brazier.” ’ I have not told you much of that 1 element, too prominent, alas! in our daily life, the stretcher; but one very vivid case I think I may mention. A soldier, I take it, is none the less a hero simply because he has a touch of the actor about him, and Private X is no less a man because he has always, apparently, looked forward to the moment when the stage should be his and himself in the centre of it. As we were proceeding from the trenches to the rear, in a small party for a tem- porary purpose, his opportunity came in the shape of a spent bullet. The hit was anything but serious, yet was such as to compel him to assume any posi- tion but the sitting one; but, even lying on his face at the bottom of the trench, he did justice to the scene and wouldn’t have it spoilt by the well- meant efforts of a comrade who saw herein the chance of practising ban- dage work. ‘“’Ere, kid,” said Casualty, abandoning his semi-unconsciousness for the purpose, “ stand clear and leave it to the stretcher-bearers.” The latter, arriving, played up well and the affair concluded with an effective curtain. As the stretcher party moved off, ‘Good-bye, chaps,” said Casualty, “and cheer-oh!” and from his pocket he produced, with an obvious effort, a jaded cigarette and lit it. I'll warrant that very cigarette had stood by in that very pocket from the beginning of things and for this very purpose. It is the sequel, told me by the S.B. Corporal, which makes me take this view. The bearers had endeavoured to humour Casualty with the promise of a quick recovery, but Casualty had made it quite plain to them that he didn’t want humouring and wasn’t going to recover, and the party were proceeding in a pathetic silence when those confounded German gunners must needs intervene and spoil every- thing. Stretcher-bearers are used to being harassed in their work by oc- casional shrapnel falling round and about, but to Casualty it was a new and unwelcome thing to lie inert in the open in such circumstances. A chance shell bursting nearer than the others, he gave all his theatrical am- bitions the go-by, leapt in a flash from the stretcher and legged it, just about as fast as humanity can move, back to the trenches, where, after some small local treatment, he continues at duty to this day. I write to you from the trenches, Charles, where life rolls on as usual and consists almost entirely of large shells and little flies. We get into the habit of not asking for much, but it would be something if only some of the big shells would kill some of the | little flies. | Yours ever, HENRY.

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5. our very | 3S a h of X is | ays, the his ; We s to em- ame > hit such OSI- oven the and vell- saw ban- alty, ness eave tter, ffair pain. off, ‘and he t, & rant | that gz of S.B. this »d to e of had t he asn’t were vhen ners rery- d to - OC- and new r{ in . A . the am- from bout sk to small duty ches, | usual | large o the | ut it | 1e of | f the | RY. De nad Aveust 18, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. YAS “ Yh\\ SP ; Ni AAD. ¥; LAY SERN om Fi gp Le Aa = AAS tp NY 7 Bae FLAALLA on / FEWIS BATHE _— ‘*WELL, MADAM, WE SELL A GOOD MANY * OTHER IS GENERALLY CONSIDERED THE MOR LETTERS—PATENT OR OTHERWISE. It is a well-known fact that the War Office is the victim of a large number of correspondents, but a selection has not perhaps previously been made public. The following specimens, how- ever, will perhaps show the wide field covered by these letters :— Kixp §Srrs,—As I was passing a parade ground the other day, I thought I would just stop and listen and see how drill-people perform. Imagine my pain and surprise when I had been listening for some moments to discover that the persons in charge did not show even common politeness in addressing their men. I do not mean that I heard much actual abuse, but I am sure, though I listened with painful alertness, that I did not hear the use of a single “please.” People were told to “form fours” (or fives—I forget which), but Without any word of politeness added, and even when they had complied with the request of the officer (and I am sure they tried to oblige him at once) OF BOTH. THE E BECOMING.”’ SOLID RUBBER IS PERHAPS THE MORE SERVICEABLE Wy SS wy \ RS § Ww BSNS ARTICLE, BUT THE there was no attempt whatever to| thank them. I do not suppose for a moment that | this conduct is typical of the officers of our army as a whole, but even if it is unusual I do not think it should go uncriticised. Yours faithfully, To THE SECRETARY OF STATE. Dear Sir,—I have several sugges- JEMIMA KNITY?. tions which, if carried out, would, I| think, be of service to the country. I expect to be in London in the course of a few days and should be prepared | to give you an appointment. Yours, J. Biagk HEADLEY. Dear Srr,—I have a new invention which Iam sure will have a tremendous effect upon the campaign. My con- trivance takes the form of a huge crane | supplied with a large number of chains with hooks at the end. Immediately it is desired to take a German trench the crane is driven forward until it is over the particular trench, when the hooks descend and catch the enemy troops. The crane is then again set in motion and the enemy are lifted high up into the air—where they are powerless until the moment comes for lowering them to the ground and making them prisoners. Yours obediently, W. KrankInGTon. How History is Written. **In the Church of the Holy Cross, Krakov- ski-street, reposed in a vault Chopin’s heart. The vault was opened and the precious relic removed to Moscow.’’—Daily News, Aug. 9. ‘Tt is reported that the vault of the Church of the Holy Cross in Kravoski-street was opened by chopping, and that the sacred heart preserved there was removed to Moscow.”’ Times, Aug. 9. ‘*His humour is as paniky as ever, and, | indeed, in a word, he is still Harry Lauder.”’ Harrogate Advertiser. But if this description is correct, he cannot be the Harry LAuDER who is going out to Flanders to cheer up the troops.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Aveust 18, 1915, | THE EXCEPTION. He was no doubt the happiest member of the household, although his immunity from the common burthen of care and anxiety threatened, perhaps, to cause a littleestrangement. Hitherto he had seemed so essentially one of ourselves that it jarred to see him living his life precisely as he had done since he arrived in a basket (a little woolly black toy of a dog in those days) three years ago. He stood apart from the rest, inas- much as his creature comforts had _known no curtailment. Not only is _he still allowed the same quantity of | biscuits and bones as in the piping | times of peace, but, more enviable than all, his appetite remains as excellent as ever. Nor is he one of those who cannot sleep o’ nights, and when he takes his walks abroad he is never accosted by patriotic ladies with an absorbing desire to know why he is not wearing a coat of another colour; he is not required to dwell deprecat- ingly on his age, his infirmities or the nature of his daily occupation. The arrival of the less frequent post- man, or even of the telegraph boy with his more aggressive rat-tat-tat, causes no more than the customary, quite pleasurable, if noisy, excitement, though it may be that he marvels sometimes to see us stand round while the letter with the French postmark is opened with a shaky hand and read aloud in an equally shaky voice. He is blissfully ignorant of the existence of such things as trenches, firing-lines, shrapnel, high explosive shells and bombs. . It is true that disappointment still lies in wait for him at one hour of the twenty-four. Even after all these bare months have passed, as 7 o’clock draws near, he will make his way hopefully to the hall and lie down with his muzzle as close as possible to the mat, his ears pricked as he listens for the well-remembered footsteps which tread the earth Somewhere in France. Presently he will rise with a yawn, shake himself and trot slowly away with his tail between his legs, clamber- ing on to a chair by the open window, looking out eagerly to the right, in which direction lies the railway station. And his mistress will lean forward with a sigh to stroke his head before she bends a little lower over the sock she is knitting. But with this exception he certainly seemed to be less in sympathy than usual with us all. One evening, how- ever, he was barking so furiously that the wildest hopes were awakened. Could it be possible that the dreamed- of visit had materialised at last? But | there was no peaked cap or khaki cape /on the hatstand, no boyish voice, no odour of cigarettes, but within the room a little golden-haired girl was kneeling on the hearthrug holding up a portrait of the Kaiser, and a foot away lay the dog, barking at it as he had never barked before. It was obvious that he had become one of us again. The community of the household was restored. OUR ALLY. (Being notes from the diary of a com- batant in the Fly Campaign.) 6.30 a.m.—Hostilities have begun. My nose has just been invaded—not by a battalion, but by a single spy. Having been caught napping, was unfortunately unarmed; but suc- ceeded in driving off enemy with my bare hands. He has retired to window-pane. 7 A.M.—Enemy showing signs of great activity. He has left window and is air-skirmishing. sible, I can distinctly hear the hum of his motor. 7.15 a.m.—Enemy has presumably en- trenched himself. No sign of the offensive being renewed at the moment. 7.30 a.m.—Left ear violently attacked from rear, but enemy again retired in great disorder on my commenc- ing a turning movement. 7.45 a.mM.—Observe much activity in enemy's camp. Taking up strong position upon shaving - mirror. Consider time is ripe to make my advance. Shall mobilise. 7.50 a.M.—Enemy still occupying shav- ing-mirror. Think he has dug himself in. Shall attack him on the flank, and enfilade him with a high-velocity towel. 7.51 a.m.—Regret to have to report attack failed. Enemy escaped through loop in fringe of towel. Casualties, one shaving-mirror. 7.55 A.M.—Shortage of food apparent in enemy’s lines. Is eating curtain. Shall seize opportunity to have bath. 8.5 a.m.—Enemy still occupying cur- tain. Have decided to bombard him with heavy artillery, for which purpose am bringing up 22-inch pillow. 8.6 a.m. — Unaccountably misjudged trajectory, but caused enemy to window-pane again. Casualties, one electric-lamp shade (slightly chipped). Am following up attack with vigour and a_ handkerchief. Hope with co-operation of latter to bring off enveloping movement. Though invi- | evacuate position and retire to} 8.10 A.m.—Enveloping movement only partially successful. Succeeded in approaching within easy range, but unfortunately sneezed at cru- cial moment. Suspect enemy of employing snuff against me. 8.15 A.mM.—Territory free of enemy. Searching scrutiny of every avail- able ambush failed to reveal any trace of him. Shall complete equipment and proceed at once to the new Front—if I can find it. 8.30 A.m.—Enemy once more located occupying heights on wall of break- fast room. Position practically unassailable without pea-shooter, but am wondering whether could manage to strike effective blow with Daily Express. 8.32 a.m—No, I can’t. Losses heavy ; one Tanagra figure (mortally wounded), one vase cut flowers (not expected to live), one eight- day clock (totally disabled). |8.40 a.m.— Temporary cessation of hostilities. Enemy’s whereabouts unknown. Don’tcare. Am hungry. 8.41 a.m.—Found him in milk - jug. Had decided to build pontoon and attack him in mid-stream, when he managed to scramble out, and again disappeared. 8.42 4.m.— Enemy located in marmalade entanglement. Hope to announce decisive victory when have found sugar-tongs. 8.45 a.m.—Enemy succeeded in eluding capture by feigning submission. Had him in the hollow of my hand (literally) and was about to intern him in slop-basin when he flew away in the most cowardly and unsportsmanlike manner possible. Is at present on window-pane buzzing an epinikion and cleaning his arms and legs. Shall renew attack by strategy when have finished examining contents of two shells (dead, and both hard- boiled as usual). 8.55 a.m.—-Have just sent despatch- rider for glazier, but am happy to be able to record engagement ended in my favour. Enemy escaped through hole in pane, but reckoned without a valuable ally that made his presence known in the nick of time, and secured the fugitive while in full flight. Shall certainly submit. his name to headquarters for suitable recognition. 9.3 a.mM.—Thinking the matter over, have decided for the future to abandon ordinary methods of campaign, and enlist further allies. What I want to know is, do the Stores keep a reserve of spiders ?

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ge, ru- of ny. uil- ny ete nce an ted ak- ully ter, uld low vy; uly ers ‘ht- of uts ary. jug. and hen and ade nce und ling ion. and tern Hew and ible. ane 1ing new lave of ard- tch- y to ded uped yned rade k of vhile nly rters yver, e to of ‘ther now ve of | Aveust 18, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 159 City, : ig “4 | Helper at canteen. ‘‘ A TOOTHBRUSH ? | \ . \ Wt CERTAINLY, " ay | \ ant Ny 7 ! | | s A é 2 . a”) 1 ii Ow ACER ,, "S$ —_ \ WOULD YOU LIKE IT HARD OR SOFT?”’ Jock. ‘‘Bress you, Ma’am, I’M NoT GOING TO USE IT. IT’S ONLY FOR KIT INSPECTION,”’ | | ““REQUISITIONAL,” | Or Hints to YounG OFFicers. (‘‘ We are still struggling with the final bits of red tape. A regiment | now in training at a seaside place sent a requisition for 30 pickaxes. | The official reply was that the proper way to requisition pickaxes was to call them ‘ Axes (Pick).’ ’’—Daily Chronicle.} WHEN sending requisitions it is well to have a care That you're absolutely right in your appeal ; “ Wheelbarrows” must be written—if you only want a pair— “ Barrows (Wheel).” It’s a simple little process and, though puzzling for a bit, It doesn’t take so very long to think That an “inkstand” should be designated when you order it— “Stand (Ink).” Suppose you want some paper and that “foolscap”’ is | the word Which you want to write, remember that the rule’s | To reverse the whole expression and you'll put—it “Cap (Fools’).” | To rag the War Department you will not attempt, I hope, Though I quite admit it would be tempting (very) To ask for and to call that soldiers’ friend, the periscope, | ‘Scope (Peri).” sounds absurd— ‘*Found, young Goat; if not claimed immediately will be old.” | Dublin Daily Express. | Well, if not immediately, at any rate eventually. OUR BOOKING-OFFICE, (By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.) The Diary of a French Army Chaplain, by Apsk Féuix KLEIN, translated by M. Harrret M. Cares (MELROSE), is in its simplicity, its vividness and its directness one of the | most remarkable books that the War has so far produced. The writer is evidently a man of strong character and admirable human sympathy, and his account of what he | saw and did as Chaplain of the American Hospital at | I can | Neuilly-sur-Seine is of the most poignant interest vouch for one reader, at any rate, who, having taken it up, could not lay it down until he had read the last word | on the last page. To Neuilly came day by day the torn and shattered bodies of those who had once been brave and vigorous fighters. It was the Abbé’s duty to speak to them words of hope and consolation, to strengthen their souls and to enable them—alas! in how many cases—to face in resignation the great change that was to sweep them from the ranks of the living. Frenchmen, Englishmen, Arabs, Moroccans, nearly all the nationalities, in fact, that make up the armies of the Allies, were brought to this hospital, and to all of them the good Abbé ministered with a single-hearted devotion which is as much beyond praise as it was far removed from obtrusion. His presence and his words must have been like sunshine to these poor wrecks of humanity. He is a keen patriot, but his charity knows no limits of race or creed, and he is careful to set

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| the translation is skilfully done | glamour falls gently over it. | precious to all country-lovers, and we may well be grateful | 160 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Aveust 18, 1915. down any facts showing kindness on the part of the Germans. ‘In this letting loose of horror and hatred,” he says, ‘we must dwell on the few features capable of softening hearts.” He finds the gaiety of the English remarkable. He speaks of “three Englishmen singing merrily to the applause of a Tunisian and four Frenchmen,” and adds that “ knitting is not taken to enough yet ; up to now there are not more than twenty who go in for it, almost all English. Quite contrary to the idea the French had of them before seeing them close, the English are remarkable for their animation. Perhaps because of the ills we endure nearer at hand we can hardly, as is natural, go further than resignation and deliberate courage; but they go as far as gaiety’’—and the Abbé gives instance upon instance to prove his statement. Altogether this is, —I use the word advisedly—a b2autiful book, and I cannot well-educated man of business, after some years of blame- less boredom with a wife and family at Wimbledon, is | suddenly thrown, by the accident of a lonely cure at Aix, | into the society of a woman, a dancer, at once considerably | more fascinating and less respectable than the ladies of his previous experience. The result is a “ guilty passion,” and an intrigue which circumstances later conspire to renew. This is when Gerard’s wife and children have been estab- lished for the summer at a distant villa, and he himself is thus enabled to alternate between their society and that | of Illona. That is the whole matter. As I say, on the | face of it the thing should be repellent. That it is not is due, I suppose, to the humanity with which Mr. Grant Ricuarps has managed to invest the only two characters | that matter. This gives the book a fascination that, in my | own case, made it impossible to put down till the last page commend it too earnestly to my | readers. I ought to add that and preserves the flavour of the original. In the eleven stories that ““"% make up Pastorals of Dorset (Lonemans) Miss M. E, Francis , (Mrs. BLunDELL) is at her very | best; there is not a single| p ‘rabbit’ in the whole eleven. | —¢ It is not easy to describe the! , qualities that combine to make! || these tales peculiarly attractive, | but I can say without reserva- | tion that Mrs. BuunpEwt is! supreme among novelists of the | i\ present day in her sympathetic’ ||| understanding of the lives of| humble country-folk, Humour , is another of her gifts, but she’ does not use it to make her characters ridiculous; onelaughs very often with them but hardly ever at them. Here, for instance, one smiles at Granfer Sampson trying to re-enlist when he is nearly seventy, but the lasting im pression is of pride in the old granfer’s spirit. And so it is with all of these sketches; the | ‘*WE SHOULD MISS you, Mary, BUT YOUR UNDOUBTED | victim to it. TALENT SHOULD BE OFFERED TO THE NATION IF THERE IS A Woman’s Boms-DroppinG Corps.”’ ~~ | had been turned. ‘The story is |poignantly alive; it compels | your sympathy by its own. In |short, a very genuine success, which, if you don’t mind being | forced to share emotions of which you may disapprove, you | should certainly read. | In these days a really cheerful novel is a sound asset, even if it | _ cannot be proclaimed as a perfect | work of art, so I can recommend tz |The Rose Garden Husband (HopDER AND SrouGHToN) be- cause it is fragrant and fresh, | and forget that Mrs. WIpDEMER handicaps herself by relying a little too often upon senti- mentality. Cynics, it is true, /might say that crippled young ! men do not, outside the pages | of fiction, rise from their beds | |with the speed that Allan |Harrington displayed. They | might even say more than this, ‘but I am not going to argue /with them; for Mrs. WIDDEMER | |has a way with her, and I am If, however, she | writes another novel it would be well to warn her that sugar and author sees the narrowness of her characters’ outlook and makes good-natured fun of it, but throughout she is never | without the power of describing country-life so that a Mrs. BLUNDELL’s gifts are whenever she uses them. Among the historic moments in literary history that I sometimes please myself by imagining is that in which "Mr. Grant Ricwarps, the author, timidly submitted his! first manuscript to his own consideration as_ publisher. “But, my dear Sir,” I fancy him exclaiming in soliloquy, | “this is absolutely rr!” And often since he must have’ had occasion to rejoice, both of him, over a partnership so | happily begun. The latest achievement of—I speak with all respect—this publishing Pooh-Bah is in every way worthy of those that have gone before. Bittersweet (GRANT Ricwarps) is briefly one of those books in which some touch of charm and genius in the writing transforms a theme that might be merely sordid into a thing of beauty. | The plot of it is simple. Gerard Blundell, a middle-ageing, spice must be used with caution, if they are not to promote a sense of surfeit. | THE COTTON QUESTION. (“ Mutato nomine de ’ , et fabula narratur.” ) THE “ Pish-pish’’ and “ Pooh” and “ No consequence ” lo, They come as a boon and a blessing to—what ? Have “ Pish-pish” and “ Pooh” and “ No consequence” read The tale of our wounded and missing and dead ? | Does their fantasy aid them to picture the sights Round La Bassée and Ypres? Do they sleep well o’ nights ? When our chemists the truth about cotton declare, | Do “ Pish-pish ”’ and “ Pooh” and “ No consequence” care? | . oe . . | Nay, at risk of offending those eminent men, We are driven to asking again and again, Have “ Pish-pish” and “ Pooh” and “ No consequence” been A boon and a blessing to us or Berleen ?

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id id | R | | Avaust 25, 1915. ) PUN \CH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 161 | There is no “pleasing the German CHARIVARIA. Press. ‘‘ England’s shamelessness,” THERE are said to be only 450,000) according to the Hamburger Nachrich- cats in the German Empire, as com- ‘ten, “is not only abominable; it drives pared with 4,000,000 in France rt the blood to our heads.” This helps 7,850,000 in the United Kingdom. to explain that swollen feeling. German newspaper Ww hich recently | J o. published an article pleading for “the| A contemporary ssnantlt published a rehabilitation of the cat” was at once | picture of the Danube, and drew special denounced as unpatriotic by a rival | attention to the precipitous rocks on the journal, which waleed out that during | southern or Selbien’ bask. Curiously a portion of every twenty-four hours enough no mention was made of a all cats are GREY. prominent bluff on the other side. * | * According to a high Greek personage | “In Carniola, during the night of Kine ConsTaNTINE now receives a letter | the 15th, the enemy delivered a violent from the Kaiser almost every day. It| attack against Pal Piccolo.” We are is said that he looks back asd etfully to | glad to add that our gallant little friend the period of “P.S. Kind regards to repulsed him with serious losses. *Trno,” and is beginning to think the | daily mail an over- “rated luxury. | One of the nate valle of the War, wl | an evening newspaper informs us, is that ne German Generals now in Russia—Prince LEoponp oF | Bavaria, VON HINDENBURG, and VON | MackENSEN—are seriously embarrassed | by the number of love-letters they | receive from their admiring country- | women, the Crown PRINCE, it is under- stood, has intimated his willingness to exchange commands with any of them. In connection with the excellent | i scheme for sending literature to the| troops through the agency of the Post Office, a list has been published of the sort of books they do not want. We ; agree that telephone directories, trades- HISTORY IN THE MAKING. men’s catalogues, and a Guide to} Covunr RevENTLOW HAVING PROVED THAT Harrogate (nineteen years old) would be | Britts# supremacy IS AT AN END, HIS found dull reading even in the trenches, but we respectfully protest against the | inclusion in the Index Expurgatorius | of Modern Woman—How to Manage | ‘Grimsby, of all places, has been obliged Her. A really competent treatise on | to import fish.’’ Are we to infer from this subject would be invaluable to any | this that before the War Grimsby grew man, soldier or not. | its fish on shore? , YL MW 1916 = FOR GERMAN COINAGE. One of the first a the Germans In a recent article the Frankfurter did in Warsaw was to set all the clocks| Zeitung remarked: ‘We should be to Central European time in place of| fools if, in a war where our enemies Russian. Here at least they can | work against us with all means in their honestly claim that time i is on their side. | power, we were to go to ruin through modesty.”” Up to the present we have Fine language is al very well in its | traced no signs of any such danger. place, but the restaurant-keepers of | °° Southend consider that the author of | Describing a forthcoming production an otherwise laudatory notice cast an| Mr. Aurrep Butt is reported to have unmerited slur upon the freshness of | said: “‘ We have a lovely chorus and its their principal commodity when he | complement of men; but all of them wrote of the town’s “immemorial | beyond military age, or for some reason shrimps.” # incapable of service.” Some members + of the “lovely chorus” The Deutsche a says, “It can- | | Mr. Burr might have expressed himself not be reiterated too often that it is no | more tactfully. ** Utopia in the Dark Continent that we | " are chasing; it is not in those regions | In an article on the looting proclivi- that our future beckons us.” We|ties of German officers, we ‘read that believe this to be very near the truth. | their favourite spoils are underclothing consider that | and time-pieces. As the National Anthem of the Fatherland, “ The Watch on the Rhine” is now bracketed with “ Does this shop stock shot socks with clocks?” — * Mr. Norman ANGELL considers that the papers are making a great deal too much fuss about the other angels (of Mons), and maintains that the War has produced no Great Illusion to compare with his own. * An Algerian oldie was much pleased when Lord KITCHENER, during his recent visit to the French Army, addressed a few words to him in Arabic. The Kaiser is reported to be greatly annoyed that his own Arabic effort should have received so little appreciation. ~~" * A German scientist claims to have discovered a new kind of rays, the gases of which, he says, “are very long and variously shaped, and at their end seem to dissolve in forms like clouds or cascades.” He calls them “bottle rays,’”’ and from the description we are inclined to think that he is probably right. . , * A correspondent encloses the follow- ing paragraph taken from “ Charivaria,” November Ist, 1911 :— ‘*Lord Hatpane, in defending the Terri- torials, declared that he expects to be dead before any political party seriously suggests compulsory military service. We understand that, since making this statement, our War Minister has received a number of telegrams from Germany wishing him long life.’’ But we suspect that when he said dead he meant “ politically dead.” ‘*Tt is reported via Dededgatch that Galata Bridge has been blown up by submarines. (The Galata Bridge spans the Bosphorus from Constantinople to Pera, and this connects the Asiatic with the European side.] ’’ Birmingham Daily Post. So the poor old wooden bridge which for so long spanned the Golden Horn has been removed and thrown across the Bosphorus. Pera has been trans- ported bodily to the Asiatic coast, and we hope that the contents of Stamboul will follow in a few wee aks. From a dnenciagtion in an Italian paper of Sir R. BorpEn’s reception at the London Opera House :— ‘*Poi tutti i presenti, con una sola grande e possente voce, hanno cantato una canzone popolare: Hor ho is a joffy good follow.” The correspondent who sends us the extract thinks that a compliment to another Ally was intended, and that the first epithet should have been “ Joffrey.” VOL. CXLIX. I

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162 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Auacust 25, 1915. AN AFFAIR OF OUTPOSTS. [As the following military incident is based upon recent facts, the author has thought well to anticipate the intervention of the Press Bureau and censor it himself.] THE summer dusk was deepening into night. It had been a day of deluge, and from the lower ground by Wood rose a white and sinister vapour. An awful silence held the lines, broken only by the furtive rustling of paper-bags that had held the sandwiches and bananas which were to hearten us for the coming battle. Our main army, according to the best reports, lay a mile or so in our rear, and we were its outposts. For the last hour of daylight I had been arranging the dispositions of the company under my temporary command, conformably with those of B company on my right. The three platoons that furnished our pickets had thrown forward their sentry-groups with doubled sentries into the hedge which the enemy had given an under- taking to attack. Precisely at o'clock, the hour fixed for the com- mencement of operafions, I took up a recumbent position with the supports in a disused bunker of the links, and gave a final adjustment to my brassard, During the strained pause that fol- lowed, some of the lighter spirits among us took advantage of our position in the rear, out of earshot of the enemy, to indulge from time to time in the reckless badinage proper to a licentious soldiery; but, for myself, being in civil life a professional humourist, I spent the interval in reviewing the errors of my past and regretting that I had never made a will. Suddenly my attention was called to an approaching apparition. Our sentry growled a low challenge and out of the gloom emerged a single enemy under escort. At first, for his eyes were bandaged with a white handkerchief, I took him for a flag of truce come to say that, owing to the saturated condi- tion of the terrain, the enemy had decided to postpone the battle. But as he wore no other sign of white (save the pallor of his face) I began to sus- pect a ruse, though the fact that he was in the full uniform of the enemy militated against the theory of es- pionage. Rising, I advanced in his direction with the idea of inviting him to show reason why he should not be shot out of hand. (I could not have postponed the execution till dawn as the necessary firing party would then be working off their night’s labour in bed.) As I came closer I suffered a painful shock on recognising in him an old friend of my comparative youth— a Regius Professor of University. “What do you here, Septimus, and in this guise?’’ I demanded sternly. He quailed perceptibly, but recovered himself and replied with an affectation of bravado. “I’ve only come as a spectator,” he said. I saw at once that the situation was unusual. I could recall no precedent for it in the King’s Regulations or other standard works on military etiquette. I was almost certain that permission for attachés and war-correspondents to attend operations in the field is in- variably required beforehand, and that there existed a strong prejudice against extending this privilege to representa- tives of the enemy. “Your position, Septimus,” I said, “is extremely irregular. Remove your bandage that I may look into your eyes.” And I drew closer. He gave a rather sickly smile and withdrew the handkerchief, but kept his lids lowered. “T only came,” he repeated, “as a spectator. I am taking no part in these operations.” I was not satisfied, but, after all, I said to myself, he is my friend and a Regius Professor of University. “Tf,” I told him, “ you will give me your parole not to attempt to escape and give information to the enemy about our dispositions, you may lie on half my mackintosh in this bunker.” He accepted with an indifferent grace and settled down for the night. I offered him my last unripe apple, but he thought he would see better without it. There, then, we lay—such strange bedfellows as adversity is apt to bring together. And indeed we both seemed to wear the badge of a common grief, for the darkness had turned the pillar- box scarlet of our brassards into mourning sable. ... All of a sudden a dreadful thought occurred tome. Till now it had escaped me that my pris- oner, besides being a Regius Professor, was a notorious writer of light verse. I had mixed a good deal in my time with writers of light verse and was well acquainted with the erafty cunning of their methods. Now, it would be my duty presently to visit my pickets and sentry-groups. Would it be wise, I ren | myself, to go off and leave a writer of light verse under the guard of innocent men—barristers, solicitors, and so forth—who were probably un- familiar with the habits of this elusive type? On the other hand, if I took him with me on my rounds, I could not guarantee his safety, for the Reserve Corps, when on outpost duty, is known to be very prompt, and, even if he escaped the worst, his Muse might be permanently disfigured. “Septimus,” I said, “on second thoughts I will relieve myself of further responsibility in respect to your person. I will hand you over to the Com- mander of the outpost company. He stands yonder with the telephone sec- tion in the hedge to our right rear. I will do you the courtesy to conduct you thither myself. Be good enough to rise. About—turn! Left in-cline! Quick—march !” On the way I treated his conversa- tional advances (made in light prose) with some reserve, merely expressing my regret that 1 was unable to dine with him at College on the following day. Arrived at the Com- mandant’s post, ‘“‘I have the honour, Sir,” I said, “to deliver to you the ac- companying priscner, who has been captured by my sentries. I am dis- satisfied with the account of himself which he has given me.” My Commandant, who has too large a heart to believe ill of any man and has never in his life written a line of verse, light or heavy, received the suspect with great geniality. I ought perhaps to have notified to him the ground of my suspicions ; but, rightly or wrongly, I decided that the matter was no longer my affair, and I returned to my post. ns * * * * The “Cease-fire” had rung out on our left flank. For a long time it was ignored on the right of B Company, where the battle proceeded with great fury. At last, the “ Assembly” being sounded, the Reserve Corps ex- tricated itself from the —— Volunteers (whose dead had continued to fight with the extreme of valour), and the two forces, including all casualties, re- formed at a safe distance from one another. After the pow-wow was over I got a word with my Commandant. “ What did you do with my prisoner, Sir?” I asked. “ Let him go, of course. I had to take his word that he was just a spectator. You see, he’s a gentleman and Com- mandant of their regiment.” “ He may be all that, Sir,” I replied, “but he writes light verse. A man who does that sort of thing is capable de tout.” 0.8. BS ‘Lost, from 18, Hampton-street, Cross Persian Cat, scarred leg. If detained will be prosecuted.’’—Plymouth Paper. This should make it crosser than ever. ‘An extraordinary plague of winged ants caused great excitement in Cardiff yesterday. Bats, in broad daylight, led on the pest.’’ Irish Times. Can it be that the bats, having been dis- owned by the Beasts and the Birds, now aspire to the kingship of the Insects ?

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Aveusr 25, 1915.

SSS ae Ei. Mic ZZzzzzZzZzZzaa SOS SE eA te Re } ae 7 vel ees S WQS SSS SSS Up ij Yj ( / ee aS 4 NY AW \y 3 a THE ACHIEVEMENT. Count Zepretin. “STANDS LONDON WHERE IT DID, MY CHILD?” Tue Cuiup. “YES, FATHER; MISSED IT AGAIN.” Count Zeprentin. “THEN YOU HAD NO SUCCESS?” Tue Cuinp. “OH, YES, FATHER; I’VE GOT HOME AGAIN.”

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| | | | Aueust 25, 1915.]} PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 165 JOAN. | (A Study of the Rising Generation.) TuouGH I’m older than her father There are times, I own, ° ry ATE T | ht / | Cat that Walked Alone. Joan appreciates hilarious Comrades, girls or men, But her mood is non-gregarious Ev'ry now and then; And it’s just when most endearing, Most inspiriting and cheering, That she’s giv’n to disappearing In her private den. When I find it really rather | | Hard to fathom Joan: | || Not that she pursues malicious i H. | Aims by methods surreptitious, | if | But resembles the capricious | | ir Joan, though studying modern fashions, Modern books and plays, Can exist on simple rations, Live laborious days ; Rising with the lark and turning All her energies to churning | | Ss Se a See SS And contemptuously spurning Soft luxurious ways. Joan delights in dogs and horses, Owns a mighty Dane, Whom, once launched on devious courses, Nothing can restrain ; | “sau” very fine and large is, 3ut when down the road he barges Nursemaids and their trembling charges Wish he had a chain. | {| ~ Once to sate her thirst for dancing | Joan would travel far, In the two-step gaily prancing, Quite the tango star ; sal Now of motoring craft a master, Always driving faster, faster, Day by day she courts disaster In her racing car. . . ~ } BE’IND WITHOUT SPEAKING TO ’EM. Fogies find her too new-fangled ; Sentimentalists ——, re) 4, | | 1| fk | ‘ —— Sergeant (out of patience with awkward Recruit). ‘‘ NEVER APPROACH THE 'OSSES FROM IF YOU DO, THAT THICK ’EAD OF YOURS ’LL GET SO KICKED WE SHAN’T ’AVE NOTHING BUT LAME 'OSSES IN THE STABLE.”’ a Liken her to sweet bells jangled, Moonlight in the mists ; Those who read her heart most clearly, Though she treats them cavalierly, | knowledge of charladies was Like her all the more sincerely much shaken when Mrs. For her kinks and twists. tention to leave him for ever, and he They admit that she is “ spiky,” ; . wisely deputed the choice of But at length divine Stirrings of a nobler psyche Neath the porcupine : For the War has made her serious, Cured her of her moods imperious, Self-absorbed, detached, mysterious, Brought her into line. | her niceness should be borne in mind. | ‘‘The hops have certainly improved since . : last report. Hot nights with sunshine is what | ten-thirty by the clock. Thither came, | 1s now required.’’—Kentish Observer. They should try Norway. ‘shoes of Mrs. THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. (not a prepossessing lot, but then the Mr. Swansdown’s confidence in his innate goodness of their kind is of the very heart. Bloggins upright, stiffened by their respect- tendered one week’s notice of her in- ability. | Thus it came about that one May|what he actually said. morning Miss Myrtle held her court at affably as was his wont. 3loggins. They were With one accord they sat very The office-boy, a cheerful and lovable her youth with a devastating squint, under- successor to his typist, Miss Myrtle.| took to usher the applicants one after Miss Myrtle was a nice girl with soft} the other into the presence of Miss hair and the kind of eyes which make Myrtle. He opened the door, thrust his a man decide to be better in future.| head in, and squinting at the assembled In the perusal of this distressing story | ladies asked for the first comer. “ Which of yer got ’ere first?” was “4 | He spoke | . A lady near the door with a red bon- | in reply to an advertisement, six sad net perched jauntily on a portion of | | but virtuous females willing to fill the| her head answered this invitation and,

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P 166 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. {Auveust 25, 1915,

pzeceded by the office boy, passed with silent dignity into the inner room where Miss Myrtle sat in state. The typist’s nose was a little red that morning, and as the applicant entered she saw her put her powder puff away, and thereby summed her up. “Be seated!” said Miss Myrtle in the tone she had heard her previous employer (an editor) use to authors. The charlady coughed in protest before she did so, and then sat, obedient to the custom of her caste, with back as straight as a ramrod, knees close together and hands tightly clasped on her lap. “ What is your name?” asked Miss Myrtle, taking up her pen in a firm and businesslike way. ““Missus Jones,” the applicant said dignation, they decided that the place did not suit them. Why a typist must not engage a charlady is beyond me, but itis so. If you doubt it ask your charlady. At last there was but one left, a thin vinegary lady in black, whose face sug- gested that she had spent her life in a desert place apart. Gradually Miss Myrtle’s new-found dignity was evapo- rating and the hilarity of the remainder of Mr. Swansdown’s staff (the office-boy, to be exact) increased. The typist de- termined to alter her methods with the one remaining applicant, for she was frightened lest she should fail to obtain a charlady at all. Her dignity went altogether and she was just a jolly little typist again. “Good morning,” she said cheerfully ;

gave me this the other day;” and she held out the bangle on her wrist. The charlady looked at it with critical interest, because, in spite of all evidence to the contrary, charladies are not only human but feminine. Miss Myrtle thought her new method was much more successful. “T should like to do most of the cleaning at night after he had gone home,” suggested the applicant. “ What time does he go?” “Nearly always about five,” Miss Myrtle replied. ‘ You could commence cleaning by half-past every evening if you wished.” “But sometimes he’s later surely. It might be very awkward if I came to clean up and found him still here.” “Oh no! He’s always away by five.

with a short sharp em- phatic emphasis on the word which denoted her married state. She clearly resented some- thing. “And where were you last employed, Mrs. Jones?” asked Miss Myrtle, unconscious of the existence of this re- sentment. “Hi was employed in a sliziter’s horfice,” said Mrs. Jones shortly. “May I arst in return if I am dealing with a principal ?” “Oh, no,” said Miss Myrtle; “I am Mr. Swansdown’s confiden- tial secretary.” “Ho!” said Mrs. Jones

MUSTANGS, FOR TRAINING CAVALRY RECRUITS. TWOFOLD: HEALTHY SURROUNDINGS AND THE ABSENCE OF ALL DANGER < ———_ 8 E 3, vine | MERRY CO ROUND.TETES ATTER bt 4 ba 4 Pry GF /, | d ba Th ¥ aT

A SUGGESTION TO THE WAR OFFICE, THe SEASIDE FrLoatiIncg Mrerry-Go-ROUND, WITH SPECIAL BUCKING ene ct BNU!F 5 THE ADVANTAGES ARE Why, just lately things have been a bit quiet and he has got away by the middle of the afternoon.” There was a silence again for a moment. “And what is your name, please?” asked Miss Myrtle. “Mrs. Swansdown,” the charlady _ replied quietly, but with a slight smile which temporarily thawed her face. “Mrs. Swansdown ? ... But that’s the boss’s name!” “Naturally; I’m his wife. And I have to thank you, Miss Myrtle, for some very interesting information about him.” The silence was thick and ominous, and Miss Myrtle paled. She had ——— <= ws

7 a ; arr

comprehensively and significantly. ‘ Ho, in- poner dintowatat deed!” “Confidential” had a most unpleasant ring in her ears and her back perceptibly stiffened. At this juncture the office-boy tit- tered. “ Leave us,” said the mystified Miss Myrtle, and with a dreadful grin he withdrew. “T don’t think this place will suit me,” said Mrs. Jones. “ Being a re- spectable married woman,” she added. Without another word she left the room and the amazed Miss Myrtle was alone. As the dignified charlady shook the dust of Swansdown and Co. from off her elastic-sided boots she met another lady entering, who took her place among the remaining applicants. One after another the charladies were ushered into the presence of Miss Myrtle by the joyous office-boy, and one after another they discovered, pos- sibly by instinct, that she was the typist; whereupon, bristling with in-

“T’m glad the others did not suit. Mr. Swansdown asked me to cheose the most genteel of those who applied, and I hope you will take the job on.” There was silence for a moment. “That depends on the job, you know,” said the candidate in an accent vaguely reminiscent of the suburbs. “Oh, there are just the ordinary duties, you know—keeping the office clean and so on.” “ And the wages?” asked the dere- lict. “Ten shillings.” “That is satisfactory—quite satis- factory;” and Miss Myrtle knew from the way in which she added “ quite satisfactory” that she was a superior person. “ But what about the boss?” asked the prospective charlady. “Oh,” said Miss Myrtle, anxious to clinch the matter, “he’s an old dear; he’s awfully good to the staff. He

that sinking feeling which comes when one is well in it. ” “ But you came as a char . she began. “Pardon me. You assumed I was a charwoman, Miss Myrtle, and I did not disillusionise you. You might tell Mr. Swansdown that I am _ here, please.” And slowly and thoughtfully Miss Myrtle did so. It is not quite certain what happened at the ensuing interview between husband and wife, because there is only one keyhole to the office-door and the office-boy was using that. His reports are very vague. One thing is certain; it was Mrs. Swansdown who chose the new typist.

‘* Young person desires another share Home, herself and father; moderate terms.’’ Bournemouth Daily Echo. What she wants is a half-sister.

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L5. and vrist. tical lence only yrtle nuch the gone Vhat Miss ence ng if rely. 1e to five. ings ; and 7 the on.” ence t. your sked wn,” plied light arily wn ? oss’s his rank for sting im,” hick Miss had yhen she was did 5 tell nere, | Miss ened veen e is and His ig is who ‘ome, ho. Aveust 25, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 167 AT THE FRONT. THERE is a deservedly popular mili- tary song which states, with perhaps unnecessary iteration, that the singers are there because they ’re there, because they ’re there, because they’re there. That is exactly how we find ourselves placed at the moment. Here is a dusty lane with eligible greensward adjacent. We have been here since 9 A.M. and it isnow 6 p.m. We have long since given up discussing why we should be here, where we are going when we leave here, and, indeed, whether we are ever going to leave here. Last night all was peace, except that I was told to sleep in my boots. I can only assume that they must inad- vertently have slipped off; for when the morning broke I appeared to be devoid of foot-fittings of any kind. While I was thinking over this mystery the Company fell in. Fortunately they were very sleepy and by the time my platoon-sergeant had persuaded them to form something other than threes and fives, I was on the spot explaining small but important technicalities, such as the advisability of taking ammuni- tion when you’re going to a battle, and the difficulty of getting a really satisfactory drink out of an empty water-bottle. Eventually we set out and walked along some roads till we came to this one, where no doubt the following conversation took place :— C.O. Have you the least idea where wé are going to, or why ? Adj. No, Sir. C.O. Do you see any possible point in our going any further ? Adj. No, Sir. C.O. Then don’t let’s. Adj. Very good, Sir. I will make it my business to see that the process is discontinued. So we all sat down by the roadside and took off our equipment and almost everything else and went to sleep in the sun. ... It is now considerably later —two days later, in fact. We still inhabit the dusty lane and eligible greensward. A fear has gone abroad that it has been assigned to us as a billet. This is all very fine in its way, but when you have received a message reading (more or less): ‘‘ Attack on in ten minutes’ time; bring a sandbag and a bayonet,” and you then find you have to live an indefinite time with a sandbag for fur- niture and bedding, and a bayonet to shave and brush your teeth with, you come to realise that the greenwood | tree business isn’t half what it’s cracked up to be. Besides, when you have found your place on the map—if| + Ht! il m i t : il Ht ait wih aii ui mt Mi HH 1" if NH ek I}, Mi il Me) | il | if as ) i i HH 5 Youthful Commissionaire (who has taken place of older one, gone to the Front). ‘‘ THEsE *ERE WET DAYS IS WOT EXHAUSTS ME.”’ you have one—and inspected your rifles and sandbags and bayonets, there really isn’t much to do here unless you have a geometrical turn of mind and care for plotting the angles between the butter- cups. If you are a keen soldier you can of course go on inspecting your platoon’s rifles and sandbags and bay- onets, because, by the time you have criticized the last bayonet, going round conscientiously, there’s no knowing what may have happened to the first rifle or sandbag. This will keep the men interested too, and save them from getting into mischief, surrounded as they are by all manner of temptations. Before we ceased speculating on our prospects, our strategists advanced all possible views. The best supported theory was that we were being held in reserve to create a diversion through Switzerland which was to come in on the spur of the moment. The most obvious and horrible prospect—that of | remaining here till the end of the War |—no one has dared to put forward. Yet ours cannot be a totally inglori- ous oblivion. Before we settled here we won fame. A very large if slightly bleary photograph, representing two of our sections on the march, had been published in a certain notorious daily journal which is fully prepared to finish the War in a month if it only gets the chance. It is true that the legend subjoined was “ Belgian Artillery Resting,” but you cannot ex- pect glory and accuracy for a half- penny, can you? MR. PUNCH’S ROLL OF HONOUR. We regret very much to learn that Mr. ALEc Jounston, 2nd Lieutenant, 1st Battalion, Shropshire Light Infan- try, has been wounded. Mr. JoHnsTon, who originally went out with the Artists’ | Corps, has for a long time contributed | to Mr. Punch’s pages, and is the author | of the series “ At the Back of the Front” and “ At the Front.” We heartily wish him a speedy recovery from his wounds, which we are glad to hear are not of a serious nature.

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168 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Aveust 25, 1915. A FAMOUS VICTORY. Wuewn is an historic ship not an historic ship? That is the question. The answer is but I will explain. Having been to Portsmouth I know not how many times, but always in the | wrong company for investigation, I found myself there once again last week, with a keen though youthful— perhaps keen because youthful, for the old take so much for granted—student of England’s past and England’s heroes, whose very obvious desire to fall in with the blandishments of an ancient mariner and visit the Victory in his venerable boat was not to be thwarted ; and so for the first time, after judicious bargaining, I was rowed to that notable vessel. I will not dwell upon the incidents of the voyage in a craft which was called for some odd reason the Why Not; how we were bobbed upand down by the wash of this steamer and that, but managed to retain our lunch; how the Gosport Floating-bridge’s efforts to run the Why Not down were frustrated by her chains; how the ancient mariner, although he had us at his mercy, refrained from marooning us until his original exorbitant figure was conceded. Let me merely record the fact that in due course we reached the great little Admiral’s Trafalgar flagship, and by ascending the steps that were not there in his time, and obeying a notice to take care of one’s head that also had come in since his day, obtained our first insight into the accretions which have accumulated like barnacles on this most illustrious of ships. An elderly man having been sum- moned to take us in hand, we began the | tour of enlightenment—and disillusion. Mounting to the main deck he drew our attention to a brass plate raised an inch or so above it, close to the head of the companion. ‘ This,” he said, “is where Nretson fell. But of course,” he added—and the “of course” sent a chill down my back—‘ it was not on this deck. This deck is new.” Who had braved the rollers and combers of Portsmouth Harbour to see new decks ? He then drew our attention to the wheel; but it was not, he said, the wheel used in Netson’s day. Oh, no. A shot destroyed that ; but a new wheel had been set up in the same place, and in the centre was the famous signal. Similarly, he said, the masts having been shot away, the present masts not only were not the original ones, but were made of iron, whereas NELSoN’s masts were of wood; and again we sought comfort and consolation in each other’s eyes. New ! | Right aft, he said, was Captain | Harpy’s cabin; but it was not a cabin any more; just the receptacle of two| boats, one of Which bore NeLson’s body | from Greenwich to London. It is a beautiful boat, but it is repainted every | year. Descending, we were shown the | exterior of NELson’s cabin, but, “ as it is now used for court-martials and we never know when a court-martial is to| be held, it is kept locked.” Here was a rebuff indeed. It was the one spot I longed to be in, and to look through the windows at its stern and see how the ocean appeared to the greatest fighting sailor of all time, and the least able of all the heroes of the sea to control mal de mer. But no. Nor are the windows as they were in Nreuson’s day, for then they were of transparent horn, and now they are of glass. All this was very disappointing, and my spirits fell still lower when I read the date 1846 or 1847 on one of the guns; but at last we found one, the firing of which NEt- son might have controlled, and were in the midst of our first authentic flush when the guide led us to the cockpit where the dying NELson surely enough was carried, but which has since had its compartments removed to facilitate its show purposes. But was _ that really the true table cn which all the surgical operations had to be performed, and was that really the lantern by whose dim light the surgeon had to work? The aged man would not swear to either. But any superiority that I may have felt over the old fellow disappeared when, before one of the engravings of the Battle of the Baltic, in the little museum, he related the glorious inci- dent of the spy-glass and the blind eye. “Now I dare say,” he began with charming naiveté, “that you won't believe what I’m going to tell you, and I’m sure it will make you split your sides with laughing when youhearit. At “If Newson hadn’t won,” he added, with a return of good spirits, “ he’d have been disgraced for ever and drummed out of the Service. That's an odd thought, isn’t it?” “Nothing succeeds like suecess,” I remarked pleasantly. But I had better have held my tongue, or been less observant, for humiliation was instant. ‘ Funny you should have said that,” he replied. “Nine out of every ten ladies and gentlemen that comes aboard this ship says that, but somehow I thought you wouldn't.” What could I do after that? There was nothing to do but pay up and go. A PERMISSIBLE EXTRAVAGANCE. Dear Goddess at whose shrine I fall, And worship that sweet will Which holds my heart in gentlest thrall With all a woman’s skill, Heed not, I pray, the cry to-day That luxury ’s a vice, For you, I swear, shall never share The nation’s sacrifice. But you shall walk in silk attire And dreamy satin hues ; Your feet that fairies might desire Shall wear the costliest shoes; And you shall eat the choicest meat Upon a dainty dish— Shall dress and feed as well, indeed, As any girl could wish. Sooner, in fine, my soul I’d pinch Than see you poorly gowned, Or stunt your stature half-an-inch Or weight by half-a-pound; Yes, though for thrift I'll prove my gilt It shall not come nigh you, | But you shall be our luxury, | My tiny maid of two. ‘‘The Germans are taking vengeance by |not allowing their railway trucks to enter the Battle of the Baltic, you must know, | Roumania any longer, and by urging on the | NELSON was only second in command. | Australians to close their frontier to the import | Well, at a certain critical moment in | the fight he had his attention drawn to | a signal ordering him to retire. what did Netson do? was blind by one eye? Well, he put the telescope to his blind eye and said he couldn’t see it, and then went on and won the battle.” Some of the saddest moments of life are those in which a simple humorist is deprived of his reward of laughter. I did what I could to supply the desired mirth, but made so poor a show that the guide, who clearly is accustomed to less sophisticated audiences, looking at And | , | : You know he}as soon as they have got through the me narrowly and in pain, accused me of having read history and therefore of | having heard it before. of Roumanian cereals.”—Evening Paper. All in good time, Wituiam. The | Australians will attend to your business | Dardanelles. ‘*‘ How to make a sovereign do the ordinary work of 15s. is the problem the war-time housekeeper has to solve.’’—Morning Paper. If that is really the problem the solu- tion is simple. Buy a War-Lcan voucher with the surplus. “On the Ballogie moor the shooting tenant, with two guns, had 383 brace of grouse.”’ Glasgow Herald. It looks as if one at least of the birds had been rather badly shot.

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idded, ‘he'd and ‘hat ’s cs,” £ neue, iation 1 have ut of that i, but There 1 go. E. fall, lest ice by enter on the mport 2 The | iness h the linary r-time uper. solu- Lean snant, ald. birds Aveust 25, 1915.) PUNCI 1, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 169 Voice in distance. ‘‘ AREN’T YOU TWO REA py?’ Small girl. ‘‘IN A MINUTE. AUNTIE ’S JUST PUTTING HER PUTITEES ON.”’ Fae ‘apger i | library subscription. Also reduce wife’s PHASES OF A YEAR OF WAR. housekeeping allowance and dock child- (from a Patriot's Note-Book.) Avuaust, 1914.—War declared. Rather | startling. Imagine that it will be a| tremendous business, involving great changes even in my obscure life. Am, | however, at once agreeably surprised | by the reassuring battle-cry, “‘ Business | as Usual.” apparently, by our taking no notice of it, thus causing an immense feeling of | policy. ren’s pocket-money, amidst great de- monstration of domestic patriotism. Chapwing alone unmoved. Appears in a new suit and announces his intention of building a conservatory. The man is a pro-German ! DeceMBER. — Latest battle - cry: The War is to be won, | Spend and pay and keep things going.” Unfortunate miscalculation in last Air full of forebodings of un- depression among the enemy. Suppose|employed jobbing gardeners, tailors, that in the circumstances we may as well spend our annual fortnight at Ostend as usual? Ask Chapwing, my neighbour, if he cares to join us. Chapwing declines. Seems to be a poltroon. Octoser.—Second battle-cry: ‘Do your bit.” Enemy not having been brought to his knees by sublime spec- tacle of national composure, it has become necessary to try something different. Eager to accommodate, but bagatelle-board makers and destitute authors, who also happen to be inelig- ible for military service. Now appears that in order to provide every kind of |work during unavoidable dislocation, ‘and thereby materially help to win | War, it is my plain duty to spend not only all I can but even more. Order two of everything and double house- ‘keeping allowance and _ children’s pocket-money. Indescribable scene of ‘domestic patriotism. Chapwing, at- and join the Teddingham and Twicken- ton Fencibles. Somewhat short of loose cash just now, but spend £20 or so on entrance fee and subscription, uniform, rifle, marching boots and so forth, and support of concerts and bazaars in aid of the corps. Have to work rather closely at professional duties in order to retrench my position, but manage to put in eighteen hours a week of drill |and marches, manual and other exer- ‘cises. Confident of doing the right thing this time, but admittedly taken ‘aback by the continuous spectacle of |stalwart young men in civilian attire, who, supported by their lady friends, ‘laugh heartily as we march by. Ask | Chapwing what he thinks about joining. Replies, “I don't think.” Chapwing 'is a confessed shirker. | Arrim.—A new phase. Yesterday saw Chapwing approaching in a state \of greater excitement than I thought him capable of. As he waved an even- ing paper I imagined for the moment how? Much too old for active service, | tracted by the outburst, wants to know ‘that we must be through the Darda- and then there is the matter of my left | if we have all gone mad. Hun! eye. Happily, it is pointed out that those | who cannot enlist can at least enable JANvuARY, 1915,—* Men and men and yet more men.” Both economy and 'nelles. ‘“‘ Another. ” he gasps. * Fort destroyed?” I interpose eagerly. He looks at me with cold disapproval. others to do so by giving up all ex-|lavishness rather in abeyance at the “No,no; another clue—pretty import- penditure that encourages superfluous | moment. At once dismiss occasional | that the War will be won by soldiers.|front page of his journal is headed, gardener and countermand orders for | Recruiting slack. labour. | Now stated, on authority See a sphere of use- winter overcoat and bagatelle set. Stop |fulness in spite of my disadvantages ‘ant too.” I now notice that the entire “ Brides in the Bath Case,” in arresting |type. Can the War mysteriously be

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. fAueust 25, 1915. ‘‘YrEs, SHE’S OFF TO THE CINEMA AGAIN, "AVING PEACE UPON US ANY MOMENT!”’’ THE PESSIMIST. AND I DON’T BLAME ’ER. MAKE THE MOST OF IT, I sAy. WHO KNows? WE MAY BE , over, or have I dreamt the War? It!removal into a tenement dwelling, see | my country and had better lcok after appears that a hitherto obscure gentle- | man living in Shepherd's Bush claims | nothing of Chapwing nowadays. Juxe.—Great War Loan floated. | myself in future. Shave off my | whiskers and transplant them to an to have raised coincidence to its highest Chapwing unexpectedly drops in to; unappropriated spot above, get well power. Nation holds its breath. War ask me what 1 am going to do about coached up on the sight tests, lie still going on apparently, however, for it. Declares emphatically that, as the| brazenly about my age, and enlist. 3 l cer ° oi . | I discover from a column reserved for, War is to be won by money, it is the| Excellent pay and prospects, and my | matter of secondary interest that 1,150 British casualties recently occurred during the taking of a single trench in Flanders. Deeds of heroism and other details crowded out. May.—‘ Join the Industrial Reserve.” | It is officially explained at last that there are plenty of men available, but nothing like enough material with which to win the War. Letters in the Press suggest that the Volunteers would find better employment for the super- fluous time with which they seem to be burdened if they devoted themselves to work in the factories rather than to playing at soldiers in the parks. Some- what of a facer, but better to know the truth in time. Get taken on by the Willoughby Spare Parts Company, at 6d. an hour. As they only want full- timers felt it incumbent on me to give up my profession and income during | the War. This having involved a: part of every loyal man to throw in| his uttermost farthing — especially as | it is a full 44 per cent. and gilt-edged security. He himself is applying for. £300, made up of £200 which he | happens to have lying idle at the bank |on deposit at 2 per cent., and £100 which Mrs. Chapwing and the children have hitherto been lending to the Gov- | ernment at 24 per cent. through the} medium of the Post Office Savings Bank. Very distant when he hears | that I propose doing nothing. As a/| matter of fact, although I did not care to mention it, I happen unfortunately to be rather heavily in debt just now. Aveust.—At last! The Loyal and Patriotic Order of Semi-skilled Workers | having declared that they alone are competent to do unskilled work, Wil-| loughbys reluctantly discharge me to/! aver} threatened strike. Decide that I have now done about enough for wife and family securely provided for. | Rather rough on my country perhaps, | but that is—or will be—its own) trouble. It also appears to be Chap- | wing’s, to whom I have just broken the entertaining news. Thoroughly aroused at last, he demands, as the Indignant Tax Payer, to know what | sort of a bill I think that he will | ultimately be called upon to pay if the Army is to be composed of elderly married men of questionable physique and debilitated stamina? Chapwing be hanged! I’m off! Left, right; left, right; left—left—left ‘« The Russian government expressed sincere regret to the Swedish government for the dropping of shells in territorial waters, ex- plaining that the incident was due to a dense dog at the scene of battle hindering accurate firing.”—Morning Paper. Stupid creature! But why didn’t they clear the course ?

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BE ifter my y an well _ lie | list. my for. | aps, own 1ap- | ‘ken thly the hat will y if | erly | que ring ht ; cere the ense rate hey

Katser. “AT THE WILL BE PEACE BEFORE NN N RN \ ‘ il" ny v3 AWWA |! VIN oo“ ta SS al ee vi i ~ PRESENT RATE THE 4 “ A “7 if W) Uy, / yy, Mf | t

Yi wt yy 7 Yj Y, /, j i, PEACE TALK. OF PROGRESS OF MY YEAR IS OUT.” __ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Aveusr 25, 1915.

= - = Se ‘ > <— een f(\ q\ Ay ASN ————~ m ~ SS S _— — ” = Suttan oF Turkey. ‘AND SUPPOSING I CAN’T WAIT TILL THEN?” i \ h WX? WN y

- | | DESTRUCTIVE SWORD THERE

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Aveust 25, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 173 Sergeant (to Tommy, who has fallen out for the fourth time). “Wat! At IT AGAIN? YOU KNOW YOU OUGHT NEVER TO HAVE JOINED 1HIS "ERE REGIMENT, ME LAD. YoU OUGHT TO ’AVE JOINED THE FLyIna Corps. THEY ONLY LETS YOU FALL OUT ONCE THERE!” gave us all violent colds in the head.| months on the high seas and in military A TERRITORIAL IN INDIA. pie revolution in diet produced the/cantonments. . | IX. most lamentable internal disturbances.| The return to the Plains and the .| My pear Mr. Puncu,—* A fortnight | And, most striking of all, the unaccus-| unending miseries of prickly heat was | in the Hima!ayas for three pounds’’|tomed proximity of numbers of white|a sad business. The mere change from 'sounds like a more than ordinarily | girls promoted an unparalleled outburst |a maximum shade temperature of 70 catchy advertisement of a touring com-|of amorous emotion among several of | degrees to one of 119 induced a pro- | pany. Nevertheless, thanks to cheap| our party. ‘found depression of spirit. And we railway “concession” tickets, it has| The worst case was that of Private | have grave doubts with regard to that been the experience of some of the| Milo. I will not weary you with a|oflicial maximum of 119. According Territorials in India curing the last! catalogue of his philanderings, but if|to our own calculations there must be few months. You will rejoice to learn | you will believe me he returned to the | an error of at least 100 degrees. I put that, by the exercise of a desperate and| Plains (none too soon) engaged to no it to you that when an entrenching tool | prolonged economy, I contrived to join | fewer than seventeen attractive and | exposed to the rays of the sun for three | a party of eight from our battalion} trustful English girls. It seemed an|minutes becomes hot enough to fry | | who made the excursion. The painful| impossible position. We could see no| eggs on with ease, it is absurd to talk | | memories of that period of self-denial| conceivable way out for him. lof a shade maximum of 119 degrees. | (consider, if you can, the plight of a| But nature has her own method of | Every man you meet here has heard of | hungry and thirsty soldier saying ‘‘ No” | solving these problems. The strain of} another man who has done this egg to the cake wallah and the pop wallah| writing seventeen affectionate letters a| trick. day after day to the point of exhaus-|day in this climate proved too much| We have now more or less settled tion) have been more than effaced by | for him, and he is now in hospital. down again to the dreary monotony of blissful recollections of the ensuing, Before entering he left instructions} Fort life, for ever making ready for fortnight’s furlough in a well-known that all letters from the betrayed ones | something which never happens. Of hill station. should be returned unopened, marked | course it is necessary to be prepared There were unforeseen results of this in the top left-hand corner in red ink, | for emergencies, but this constant train- sudden transference of eight rather,‘ Deceased,’ which, after all, he ex- | ing for hypothetical situations is very washed-out and emaciated Terriers plained, is only another way of spelling| wearisome. Sometimes, it is true, it from the dull routine of existence in a| “diseased,” which in turn is only|leads to strange results. One of the stifling fort on the blistering and dust- | another way of saying ‘ ill.” |st rangest was related to me by an swept plains to the delights of a health-| Well, much may be forgiven a man|N.C.O. of the Regulars a few days ago. resort seven thousand feet in the air.|suddenly translated into such society} A movable column had been organ- The drop in temperature, for example,|after an ascetic existence of eight|ised in his battalion and frequent —

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174 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Aueust 25, 1915. parades were held. A very fine state;of course we know that actually it is| of efficiency was attained, and at the an essential duty we are performing. | given order the column would be ready | In our dreams we slay Germans by the in an almost inconceivably short time | thousand and earn countless decora- to move off, equipped to the last detail. | Only it never moved. Included in the supplies carried by | the movable column was a fresh meat ration consisting of two live sheep. | They were intelligent sheep, and after | a few practices they learned to leave their grazing on their own initiative, and spontaneously take up their proper positions in the column. Soon this procedure came to be taken as a matter of course, and the fresh meat ration was trusted implicitly to do its duty. But on a day, to the dismay of those | h in authority, one of the sheep (~~~ was missing. Great was the consternation, for this was the first lapse in the splendid efficiency of the column. Search was made, and the errant animal was discovered peacefully feeding in _ its accustomed haunts. Then occurred a remarkable inci- dent, which I should hesitate to believe if it had not been related to me by an old soldier. Anticipating censure, the delinquent, who, it seems, had been observant enough to acquire a knowledge of army language as well as of army routine, turned to its pursuers and said wearily, “T know what you’re going to say, but straight, I can’t se2 the use of well falling in, time after time, when no thing ever Officer. Officer. tions. In our waking hours we collect cigarette coupons and spend days de- bating whether it would be better to! obtain a set of ninepins with the 750 coupons we now possess, or to collect a further 500 and get a concertina. The increased ration allowance of | three annas a day recently granted will | (when it comes) brighten our lot con- siderably. I foresee marked changes in our little social amenities. Up till now the highest possible expression of reckless generosity towards a friend | Private. has been to say, “Come and have a! ‘* WHY, WHAT’S THE MATTER EXCELLENT SOUP.’’ ‘“‘Yrs, SIR—THAT’S WHAT WE SEZ, SIR.’’ ‘© VERY WELL, THEN. happens. It’s a farce, that’s what I call it!” As I have said, our life here is a deadly dull affair, and the smallest humorous incident comes as a welcome | | penny custard at the Soldiers’ Home.” [In future there will doubtless be sub- stituted some princely offer, such as “Come and have a mutton pie and a break in the monotony. We are sin-| bottle of pop.” cerely grateful to our Detachment Quartermaster-Sergeant for an adven- | ture which befell him a few days ago. He was taking a solitary ramble outside the Fort in the early morning and wished to cross a certain bridge, at the head of which was mounted a native guard. The sentry, however, refused to allow him to pass; but, knowing no English, could not explain his action in words, till, after a dubious search, he pointed earnestly to one of a large number of prohibitory notices affixed to the wall. It read: “ Hlephants and traction engines are not allowed to cross this bridge.” There is no doubt that the hearts of very few of the Territorials now garri- soning India are in their work, though | Yours ever, ONE OF THE PuNcH BRIGADE. An Irish paper’s contents bill :— ‘Rout or Turks In CavcusEs.”’ |The old Turks never took kindly to the new politics. ‘* A hotel-keeper in Prussia possessed a jack- daw which had considerable proficiency as a talker. An official of some sort provoked this bird into a display of his linguistic attain- ments. The jackdaw said no more than might be expected—its tuition had been most com- prehensive—but its owner was heavily fined for disrespect to the Kaiser.”—Star. about Rheims. WITH THIS? THaT’s WuHatT’s THE COMPLAINT?”’ Private. ‘‘Iv AIN’T THE souUP, SiR; IT’S THE COOK. IT STEW.”’ The bird must have said something|? qu WARNING TO VOLUNTEERS. [A member of the National Guard was recently requested to leave a Theatre on the ground that he was wearing an ‘‘ unauthorised uniform.’’] WE are favoured with an advance copy of the following notice to the Piptown Battalion of the Humpshire | National Defence Force :— PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL. It is rumoured that the Military Authorities are organising a raid, which may take the form of a house-to- house search for incriminating evidence against persons suspected of connec- tion with Home Defence Organisations. Unifor ms and accoutrements should be ~~} deposited in cisterns or buried. Members who possess lofts or cellars suitable for Com- pany drill are requested to leave particulars in cuneiform characters under the roots of the old elm-tree in the sports field. Pyjama parades will be held during the coming month. Upon pronouncement of the password, code orders will be handed to members by the Commanding Officer, who willattend, suitably disguised, at the municipal dust-shoot nightly at 11.45 p.m. Owing to strong pressure brought to bear upon the Army Council the platoon re- cently captured while route- marching by the police will be accorded the honour of a military execution at the Tower. The condemned men are indebted to the wife of our Quartermaster for this concession. This unfortunate incident will result in the creation of a limited number of | vacancies in the Piptown Battalion, but intending members are warned that they are liable to be hanged at dawn if discovered in any act bearing a colourable resemblance to military operations. ’E CALLS “The Countess of who is offering free grouse shooting near Guildford to wounded officers.’’—Morning Paper. Very sporting of the grouse to come down South for this patriotic purpose. Who dares to say that the Irish Volunteers are not to be taken seriously ? At a recent meeting of the Brian Boru corps the following resolution was passed unanimously :-- ‘* That in the opinion of this corps Mr. —— e of our most staunch members, is fully ualified for the position of Baker at the Clare Asylum.”’

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vas she sed he ire en of yn. ult of yn, ed at ng ry ing ing led me ish ly? ru yas illy are Avaust 25, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL . 175 r . aeeiiiadiaaiaiaiaiiiiaid A DEAD SECRET. Last Thursday morning I met the latest subaltern looking more like a Major-General than usual. | “Hallo!” I exclaimed, “ what are you up to?” “ Just had my hair cut,” he replied ; “come and have some lunch. Aunt Sims and Joan are staying with us and Jimmy Battersby is turning up.” On the way conversation was inter- mittent; Archibald had something on his mind. “It’s the barber,” I said to myself; “too much off the matting.” Suddenly, on his very doorstep, Archibald unburdened himself. “T say,” he jerked out, “we're going out—next week, I think.” I shook his hand and gave him my blessing. “Of course,” he added with sig- nificant inflection, “this is a deadly secret, so don’t breathe a word to anybody.” I placed a hand upon the centre of} | my knitted waistcoat and promised upon my honour as a ratepayer. But it wasn’t so easy as all that. I sat next to Joan at lunch. After the preliminaries were over I remarked casually, “I wonder what Archibald will ’ and stopped suddenly and began to find something in my soup. “Aha!” I exclaimed in an undertone, “there he is—a peppercorn.” “ Yes,” said Joan expectantly, “ what were you going to say about Archie?” “Oh yes!” I smiled bravely; “ how stupid of me! It’s his hair, He's had it cut, you know.” Joan gave me a diffident glance and continued her soup, and I pulled myself together and chased a piece of carrot. I turned to Archie’s mother. Anyhow] gun, I catts 17.” ; 4 * : ; a apa a My . VF ee, ee ae H be sia First Young Lady. ‘‘ Look at ’ER, ACKSHALLY TIKEN ON WIV A CIVILIAN. DISGRICE- she would know all about it, so there would be absolutely no temptation to} For just about this time I began to say anything. realise that I was beaten. I simply We talked very nicely about (1) cook- | couldn’t stand it any longer. I would ing, (2) steam-laundries, (3) the price|fill my glass, rise gracefully, and, of coal, until I remarked reflectively | bowing to Archibald, say, “ Permit me and @ propos of nothing, “ Yes, it’s hard|to take wine with you and wish you luck on you—very.” well as I understand you are going to “How do you mean?” she asked. | the Front next week.” And there I was again. I pictured the sensation and wondered “ Well,” I explained, “I don’t mean | vaguely whether the subsequent court- the cooking and it isn’t exactly the! martial would shoot me like a gen- price of coal. It must be the steam-|tleman or hang me as a journalist. laundries. Yes, of course, that’s it. | Then Archie’s mother rose and lunch It’s the steam-laundries.” /came to an end. “Oh!” exclaimed Archie’s mother—| In the ensuing movement I side- just “Oh!” So I escaped again; but/|slipped into the bow-window to look not for long. Jimmy Battersby had/at the view, and whispered very me in difficulties with the pineapple | quietly to an acacia, “ Archie is going jelly, and I just saved myself from/to the Front next week.” Aunt Sims by dropping the salted | I said it twice. It did me a lot of almonds on the floor—a last effort of | good. a rapidly degenerating intelligence. | On the way to the library I hung | behind and had a little conversation with the dumb waiter—perfectly safe. Then there was Venus of the Medici (in marble) discreetly concealed in a corner of the hall. I confided in her. The worst was over. I entered the library full of confidence in my powers of secrecy. Everybody was collected round the latest subaltern. There was a perfect buzz of conversation, and above it I heard the voice of Archibald :— “Next week, I think; but don’t breathe a word to anyone. It’s a deadly secret.” “THe DARDANELLES. Troops STRAIGHTENING THE F'RNOT.” Rhodesia Herald. In this instance they don’t seem to have | been conspicuously successful.

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176 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Avueust 25, 1915, TONSORIAL FINANCE. YeEsterpDay morning I overslept my- self, a thing I very rarely do uninten- tionally. I was muck annoyed, as I had an important appointment in the City at mid-day; and a glance at my watch showed me that I had barely twenty minutes in which to make my toilet and reach the station. Breakfast was entirely out of the question, and most likely out of the breakfast room, too. I calculated that—even forgoing my bath—I had not sufficient time to shave, wash and dress, but that I had just time enough to wash and dress, or shave and dress, or wash and shave. The last combination, though undoubt- edly the most hygienic of the three, would not have been thoroughly under- stood in my neighbourhood, and conse- quently I had to reject it in favour of one of the others, The middle one seemed to offer alluring possibilities so far as the shave implied a partial washing of my face, but unfortunately it required concentration. The first, therefore, appeared to be the most reasonable course to pursue; indeed, when I again looked at my watch I found that I had been so long deciding that there was no practicable alterna- tive available. I eventually caught the guard's van just as it was disappearing through the exit. A close scrutiny of the guard’s features revealed the fact that he too was unshaven. In fact he could not have used a razor for at least fifteen years, for his beard practically ended where his whistle began. He was otherwise an intelligent fellow, and re- peated the names of the stations quite prettily. On arrival at the terminus I found that I had a quarter-of-an-hour to spare, so I determined to sample a hitherto unexplored luxury. I would have a professional shave. Close to the station I saw the sign of a barber, who professed to perform the operation for threepence; so I entered, and a brigand of doubtful nationality at once took my hat away from me. Another invited me into a chair and recited the bill of fare from memory. “ Shave,” I said briefly, and the revels commenced, “iver shave yourself, Sir?” asked the man as he paused to put more desiccated soap on the brush. Now, I thought to myself, this is where he is trying to have me. If I say “Yes” he’ll want me to buy a patent non-skid razor or a safety shaving-brush. If I say “No” he’ll try to sell me a ticket for the estab- lishment’s Toilet Club. So then and there I engaged a purely hy pothetical | valet. “My man usually shaves me,” I) answered. “Then, Sir,” persisted the fellow, “I am sure he could not get a better result than with one of our celebrated ‘i “Ah, I’m afraid that is his depart- | ment entirely,” I interposed. interfere with my servants—not now. I remember how annoyed my cook once was when I brought home an automatic rolling-pin.”’ Then the barber began to relather | me, and while my mouth was still incapable of self-defence he did his utmost to sell me, successively, a bottle of hair-wash, a face-lotion, a sanitary hair-brush and a shampoo-powder. “Took here,’ I said at length, “I have an important appointment in exactly five minutes. Will it facilitate matters if I buy something?” The man assured me that it would do all that and make him happy for the whole day besides. “Then,” said I, “you may sell me a half-crown bottle of moustache- pomade.” “Certainly, Sir,” he said, mollified ; “but I thought you shaved the upper lip?” “It’s not for myself,” I explained, “it’s for a friend who has never ex- perienced the boon of a shave by an expert. To be exact he’s a railway- guard endowed by nature with luxuriant vegetation. Shall we get on?” We got on. “ Brush your hair, I surveyed it. “ Since you ve rumpled it,” I replied, “JT think it is the least you can do.” He proceeded to do the least he could do. “Pay at the desk, please. Next gen- tleman! Take three shillings, Miss.” “ Er—two-and-nine, surely ?”’ I de- murred, lifting my eyebrows a notch higher. “ Hair-brush, threepence,” answer. The lady, an adept at high finance, successfully negotiated the two half- crowns I gave her. Then I turned Sir?” was his and handed my man a penny and a} bright smile. He said nothing to either. There flashed across my mind the thought that, like a waiter, he only expected ten per cent. of the threepence. (The hair-brushing he had himself in- curred, and of course he received com- mission on the sale of the pomade; therefore he was only entitled to expect a tip for actual work done on my behalf.) I concluded that he was in doubt as to whether I expected seven centimes change. “That ’s for you—to keep,” I said. “T | He controlled his emotion so well that I increased the bonus to twopence. Then at last he said, “ Thank you, Sir.” The hatter next approached and, to avoid any unpleasantness, I gave him twopence straight off. “Much obliged, Sir,” he said. _fourpence, please, Miss.” This was unexpected. “T never told you to iron my hat,” I ‘burst out. “You never asked me if you might. I consider it a great im- | pertinence for anyone—I don’t care who it is—to play fast and loose with my hat without permission. I will overlook it this time, but——” As he was no longer listening 1 con- sidered it futile to go on. I gave the lady at the desk the additional four- pence and was making my way to the door when a third assistant rushed at me with a brush and swept me all over. When he had finished he was panting with satisfaction. “Well?” I said. Yessir.” * Don’t you call out ‘ Take fourpence, please, Miss,’ like that other man?” “Oh, no, Sir. I do the brushing quite on my own.” “Tell me,” I continued, “ what you expect for the unnecessary and unsoli- cited brushing of an entirely new suit of clothes?” Under pressure he admitted that | most gents gave him twopence. So I gave him what he suggested and mentally calculated that he earned, on the average, a penny a minute, or, in an eight hours’ day, a matter of two pounds. In other words, some £600 a year. Then, as nobody else seemed to want anything, I walked out. I was late for my appointment, and my friend, I was informed, had waited a quarter-of-an-hour and then gone off. The consequence was that I had to play dominoes with an almost entire stranger. When I arrived home in the after- noon I made out the following account: | “Take hi 4. : Premeditated shave 3 1 Diplomatic pommade hongroise 26 1 Compulsory hair-brush . 3 1 Tip to. barber ° ° 2 1 Unsolicited hat-iron . a 4 1 Gratuity tohatter. . . ° 2 1 Largesse to brush- brandisher ‘ 2 Loss at dominoes (due to delay at barber’s) . . . . «© « 5 7 9 | ox “SOUTH AFRICA. GERMAN INTRIGUE. Hat THE Union Troops FouND.” Cork Constitution. This is believed to be the one the Kalser talked through.

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ae > if im- are ‘ith will on- the yur- the . at ver. ing 1Ce, ;

ing ing you oli- suit hat So and on , in [wo 500 ant and ited off. to tire ter- | int: | d. 6 2 7 3 2 4 2 5

AUGUST

AMAMMMA Lotealiatie. tay

—_— = ——<—__ ——————— = © = ——— jf —* Ty \ewaens AQIS Officer (somewhere in France). ‘‘I say, SmrpsON, WHY ARE ALL THOSE MEN RUSHING INTO THAT PLACE? WHat ARE THEY AFTER?”’ Simpson. ‘‘ THEY’RE AFTER BOMBARDIER FRITZ, Sim.”’ Officer. ‘‘ WHo’s BombBarpieR Fritz? Is HE IN THE BatTERyY?” Simpson, ‘‘ He aIn’? A MAN, SIR; HE’S FRIED POTATOES.”’

“'There’s the doctor’s plate,” I said;

“first floor for A TONIC. the consulting-room.” “] FEEL horribly depressed,” Sybil said, “ horribly.” “Ah,” said Sybil, reading the name, “I’ve heard of her. “This War,” I said, “is enough to depress anyone.” | She'll do.” “Yes,” she said, “I think it’s partly the War, and, oh,| “Yes,” I said, “but don’t forget it’s Céleste’s husband | | partly everything.” who really trims the hats. Choose a nice one. I'll wait | “You want a pick-me-up,” I said. | down here and have a smoke.” . “You know I never drink liqueurs at any time.” “Thanks,” said Sybil, mounting the stairs; “I feel a “Who said anything about drinking? I didn’t.” little better already.”

“T never heard of anyone eating a pick-me-up, and, | anyhow, I don’t feel like eating. TO MY POSTMAID. | searching look. ; “ Never,” I said; “Heaven forbid! She’s entirely a And when you foot it through my garden gate, woman's doctor. She’d laugh at me, I expect.” _ However vile the missive that you bring, “Tf she charges nothing,” said Sybil, “‘ what does she do| You'd hardly credit how I bless the thing. it for?” My correspondence, as perhaps you 've noted, “Oh, it’s only the advice that’s free. It’s the medicine | Contains no message that a maid has penned, she makes it on; and she does well, I’m told. Come along; So please infer from this that I’m devoted I’ve got a cheque for royalties to-day, so I don’t care if; To you alone, and if you’d care to send it’s two guineas a time.” A gleam of hope and comfort to a chap We took a taxi and got down at a well-groomed door. My letter-box is always there. Verb. sap!

‘Look here, Sybil,” I said, “ you ’re in a bad way. I'll tell you what we're going to do. I’ve heard of a woman’s doctor who’s considered very good at this kind of thing, and charges nothing for advice.” “Man or woman?” “Well,” I said, “it’s a woman’s name on the plate | and a woman prescribes, but, from what I’ve heard, | the real doctor, who makes up the medicines, is a man.” “T suppose you’ve consulted her?” said Sybil with a Sivce that great moment when, my heart's enslaver, You donned the brassard of the P.M.G. And first began—no ordinary favour— | To call upon a simple bard like me, I’ve often thought, to make your visits more, Of sending dummy screeds to my own door. Each morn, with bashful qualms made wan and quivery, I lurk behind my windows and await The hour (8.22) of your delivery,

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178 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. [Aveusr 25, 19165. | bub-bub-bub-bit *; and when I come in you’ll shout across SEA-SOCKS. said Francesca, “ we’re at the seaside again.” “ Francesca,” I said, ‘your remark is not merely pro- foundly original, but it’s absolutely true. We left our happy home, we took tickets, we entered a railway carriage, we lunched out of a basket on sandwiches and hard-boiled eggs et Did you want them soft-boiled ?” she asked. “How you put me off,’ I said. ‘“ You can’t deny my statements, so you try to confuse me with flippant inter- ruptions. But I will not be confused. I insist on saying that we lunched on sandwiches and hard-boiled eggs. “It’s always done,” she said, ‘“‘ by those who go to the | seaside. You couldn’ t get there without it.” “You forget,” I said, “the bottle of milk. I’m wa much of a drinker of milk neat myself, but I always look upon it as essential to a family journey.” “We had that and all the other essentials,” ‘“s WELL,” she said. | the modest tract of water which separates the sexes that it’s pup-pup-pup-perfectly dud-dud-dud-delightful, and when I reply that it’s chilly you'll all lul-lul-lul-laugh as if you wanted to be taken for natives of Greenland’s icy mountains. I know you.” “Ha-ha,” she said, ‘he knows us, does this father-of-a- family, and he isn’t going to bathe in the sea, isn’t he, and all because he’s afraid of a little cold water?” . Francesca,” I said, “‘can you keep a secret ?” “ Yes,” she said, “as w ell as most men.” “Then I'll tell you one,” I said. ‘I’m not a bit afraid of ice-cold salt water—indeed I revel in it. No porpoise could revel more than I do when once I’ve taken the | plunge. What I’m really afraid of is my socks.” “Your socks! How can socks make a man afraid?” “T don’t know about other men. I only know they ’re too much for me. It’s this way. You know how sticky salt water is—that’s why you wear that hideous thing over “ Nothing was forgotten, nét even the salt for the hard-boiled eggs,” she added. “Oh, bother the hard- boiled eggs,” I said; “I was beginning to forget them.” “TI didn’t drag them into this discussion,” she said. “No,” I said, “it was I who mentioned them first, but I meant that to be the lastof them. Let us stop this conversation before we are carried too far. I agree that we’re at the seaside again.” “Come,” she said, “that’s really handsome of you. When a man’s in the wrong he can’t do more than admit it. I believe it’s the proof of a generous and manly mind.” Colonel. “OH, NOT 80 BAD. How “ But,” I said, “I’ve admitted nothing. I wasn’t in the | wrong.” “Then,” she said, “I take back the generous and manly mind.” “You can’t,” I said. “I’ve got it and I mean to keep it.” “ All right,” she said, “ you can; and I'll keep my sea- side. You shall consider yourself in the Midlands if you like.” “ Anyhow,” the Midlands. producer of shells. where you are.” “No,” she said, “ but I’ve got the sea, and I’m going to bathe in it. What are you going to do?” “T suppose I shall have to bathe too. seem to expect it of me.” “You don’t seem to be very enthusiastic about it.” “ Won't it be rather cold ?” I said. “Cold!” she said. “If I don’t mind, and the children don’t mind, who are you that you should find it too cold?” “ But you'll all be cold, too,” I said, “ only you won't admit it. As you emerge from your cabin in your bathing costume and indiarubber cap complete, you ll ask the children if it’s cold, and they ‘ll all answer, ‘ No-no-not a I said, “they make plenty of munitions in Birmingham, where I am, is a tremendous You can’t say that for Totland Bay, The children Doctor. ‘How po You FEEL, COLONEL, WHEN YOU HAVE ACTUALLY KILLED A MAN?” | your head.” “It looks very well in the pictures,” she said. | “Yes, but it doesn’t | look well at the seaside. | Well, my hair doesn’t | matter, you know, and ‘as for the rest of me I can manage all right after I’ve come out of ,the water. I can dry myself as well as anyone —at least I think I can, , though I’ve never had a regular drying competi- _ tion with othermen ‘ |__ “My poor dear,” said Francesca anxiously, * what are you driving at?” “T’m driving at my socks. All the salt-water stickiness gets into my feet, and when I come oni _____ to put my socks on, why, |I simply can’t do it. They won't go on. First I tug and then I coax, and then I work my toes about, and then I pull away the socks and rub my feet raw with a rough towel, but it’s all useless. The socks will not goon. The strain is something terrible. Think of it, Francesca, you who wear stockings, if I may say so, to be defied by two little dumb socks. It thoroughly unmans me, this eternal struggle. I’m getting too old to face it any more. I shall never come to the seaside again.” “Tt’s dreadful,” she agreed. ‘“ But, since you are here, you’d better have another go at it. I’ve noticed you generally get them on in the end.” “ But the end is so hard to attain.” “Never mind,” she said; “the bathe will be pup-pup- perfectly dud-dud-delightful.” R. C. L. po you?” Legal Fiction. ** Notes and Decisions under the Representation of the People Acts and the Registraticn Acts, 1914. By Wm. Lawson, LL.D., B.L., Revising Barrister for the County of Dublin. (Dublin : A. Thom and Co. 6s. net.) [A story bringing us back to the spacious days of Queen Bess, when piracy on the high seas was almost quite fashionable. The adventures of the mysterious ‘Captain’ Adam and the Spanish Don will be followed with interest.) "—Jrish Independent. ee -

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i Ta 179 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL r i y , gr A, . MY, A/, Yyy, Wf, “/ (plate Ya : W4 ; fig = Wai ifn NVA ANN \ nt We 4 Wi bag NNT \, \R) ait ' r\\\\ aan Ut vai ; WK ANNAN YANNNNNIA ae \ To Orderly Officer. ‘‘TurN ouT THE GUARD!” Sentry (formerly in commerce). ‘‘SHor!”’ OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. |the last in the scene where Chinnery’s half-lunatic wife : mn ;and the peasant-woman whom he really loved meet over (By Mr. Punch’s Staff of Learned Clerks.) ‘his death-bed. In short, a moving and in many ways a Mrs. Henry Dupeney is one of the few women writers | beautiful story, but one to be prescribed with caution. to-day who possess what could be called the large manner. | —__—_— Her new book, The Secret Son (METHUEN), is a good| Why have so many of our novelists taken to producing example of this—a homely tale of rustic happenings | enormous volumes marked by a pre-Raphaelite fidelity to touched with a real sense of tragedy. A Sussex down- detail? The latest convert is Mr. W. S. MauGHam, whose land farm is the scene of it, and something of this country | usual manner I seem to recall as rather impressionistic. of wide spaces seems to have got into the treatment, so| But in his new novel, Of Human Bondage (HEINEMANN), he that while the story is for the most part unhappy it is|is, so to speak, as Jean Christophy as the best of them. never morbid. It must be confessed that some antiseptic | This is the kind of book that tells you in six hundred and influence of the kind is needed. Of the four women who | fifty pages all you want to know about a group of characters, make any considerable appearance in the action, one is|and a great deal more. It is a method that resembles the half-witted, and the other three have all, as the melodramas | historic little girl: when it is good it is very, very good, and say, taken the wrong turning. Which seems “above the| when it is not it is horridly boring. Mr. MAuGHAm’s case is average that statistics have laid down for our guidance” ;| is not quite so bad as that; but though his book manages at least, one would prefer to think so. The virtue of the|to be quite wonderfully good in parts, it yet leaves a book lies partly in the character of Nancy and in the| general impression of boredom. The trouble is that the handling of her love for Morris, who was the son, not of | central character, whose career as school-boy, art-student, her proper husband, but of the consumptive squire, Chinnery. Then, when in his turn Morris falls in love, the woman whom he is about to marry has to make to him a confession of the same flaw; and Nancy, who has never dared tell the truth of his own origin to the son whom she adores, must look on and see him suffer. Nor is this all; in yet a third generation the same misery comes, till, as Morris says to his mother, it all threatens to “ happen over again like a giddy go round.” Mrs. DupENEy’s picture of country life is not exactly a pretty one; but she deserves the more credit for having brought out the beauty and humanity of it, as well as the horror. There is plenty of doctor, shop-walker, and the rest of it, we are com- pelled to follow so closely, never inspires enough personal interest to make the labour one of love. Indeed, it seems hardly in order to speak of the two protagonists as hero and heroine; Philip remains to the last nebulous and un- interesting, while Mildred is real enough certainly, but so entirely detestable that we are impatient to be rid of her society. Fortunately there are other characters in a crowded canvas that make up for these. Miss Price,\for example, the bitter-souled little student, starving in Paris on a faith in her own utterly imaginary genius, is one of the most haunting and tragic figures that I have met with in recent

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180 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL {[Aueust 25, 1915, fiction. To balance her we have another and very different portrait in Philip’s aunt, small, tremulous Mrs. Carey, with her pathetic love for a boorish husband and an unresponsive nephew. For these two women alone the book was worth writing. If only there was not quite so much of it ! The eponymous hero of Edwards, by Mr. Barry Pat (WeRNER LavRIE), is a gentleman who, having drawn the suburbs blank, settles in London as a jobbing gardener and proceeds to defraud humanity—or rather such portions of humanity as are ill-advised enough to employ his time, of which he cheats them, and his energies, which he reserves for the beer-bottle and the tap-room. Edwards in his jobbing way is as great a rogue as Barry Lyndon, and what THackeray did for Lyndon Mr. Barry Par here does for Edwards. He allows him to describe himself and his rogueries with the most perfect frankness and in the regretful spirit of one who, in spite of occasional blers of “ idiotic drivel,” a reviewer is fairly warned before- hand. Perhaps one’s chief feeling is that our author was so substantially right in his pleadings and prophecies (he have remembered that to be right on main issues is not equivalent to a patent of infallibility on all detail. In the controversy of the submarine crews, for instance, in which he was the chief advocate of the reprisals-for-piracy theory, he certainly forgot that it was little use attempting to deal with such matters till we were in a position to deal effec- tively. And anyway how were these feats of the submarine, even the crowning infamy of the Lusitania, a whit worse France? Meanwhile Mr. Harrtson’s eloquence helps us a little insensitive to their significance. If we must recruit successes, has on the whole ;— come off second best in his struggles against the harsh- ness and cruelty of a censori- ous world. KHdwards is a shrewd commentator on his own foibles, which he admires, and the foibles of others, which he despises even while he pro- fits by them. He describes the stages of the gardening fever to which ladies are liable. ‘There was one garden I used to look after up Hampstead way. At first it was all peace and quietness there. Nobody ever came into the garden except me and the cats... If you managed to mow a lawn which were about six yards square in an eight hours’ day that was all that was expected, and the lady would ask you if you weren't tired when you left, and not mean it in a nasty way either.” Then came the fever, and the lady wanted | 2 = tb daffodils and told edwards | nde Doesoad ebthoteecta oN tills Se Ae NON | | UN , YX\\ \\ \ ANY \\\\Y \ MW \\\ N\ W \ \\ \ \ _ ee Customer (with impediment). Shopkeeper. “Sorry, SiR; WE DON’T STOCK CUCKOO CLOCKS.” Customer, “But I DON’? WANT A C-C-CUC-K-K-00 C-C-CLOCK. aie ~| by advertisement, I’d sooner | see real extracts, not polite summaries, from the Belgian and French Reports than the ingenious sophistries of the vi | War Office experts. ./| tainly ought to have listened to Mr. Harrison, who was no ‘filibustering jingo. But we only just a little excused be- |leaders and our pundits. | ‘ scamp, played the flute. So it | Was music, music all the way. | But fresh evidence is given here that to be in love with a | musical genius is not exactly to lie on a bed of roses. When, “TI WANT A C-C-CLOCK.” to get a packet of the seed and sow it at once. Finally, “she give me a shilling and I got a nice sixpenny pot of daffodils with it for the trade price of fourpence.” Then the lady bartered her husband’s new suit of clothes for fuchsias, and so on till she ordered Edwards to take up the lawn, put in proper drainage and relay it. Of course he couldn’t stand this, so he left, and his employer lost a treasure of drink and incompetence. Everybody will be glad to learn that the marriage of Edwards did not make him happy. Too much seemed to be expected of him. Mr. Barry Parn knows a great deal about gardeners. Can he tell me why a gardener, though he always goes about his duties without a coat, invariably retains his waistcoat, even in the hottest weather. Is the waistcoat a gardening fetish ? In The German Peril (Unwiy), Mr. Frepertc Harrison | reprints, with comments to date, his chief utterances on the German menace from 1863 onwards, and they make an instructive if Somewhat too obviously self-regarding docu- ment. As Mr. Harrison has a short sharp way of dealing with those who venture to differ from him, labelling them “sanctimonious purists,” “snivelling journalists,” or bab- | lover as he sounds. far more tolerable than the intrigues of a bevy of youths knew his history and he knew his Hun) that he might deal | a little less vehemently with his opponents; might perhaps | | cause we trusted certain of our | however, I remember that Walter Chippendale walked some- | times as if he was “possessed of devils,” I am bound to | admit that he was not anything like so uncomfortable a | Indeed, I found his courtship of Betty | than several of the more devilish outrages in Belgium and | to remember—no useless function, for the mind has so | surfeited on the recital of horrors that the spirit has become | We cer- | believed what we wished to | | believe, and our blindness is | | The hero of Betty Wayside | (HopDER AND STOUGHTON) was | a composer of genius; the hero- | ‘ine played the piano like an | angel ; the major villain was a | baritone; and another man, | who had the makings of a/| }and maidens whose many affairs of the heart strained my | | patience to breaking point. laid in Sydney, and when the author—whose name, Lovuts 'Srong, is unknown to me—has learned not to overcrowd her stage all should be easy sailing for her. She has a The scenes of this book are | ‘real love of music, and more than a little knowledge of | | music is an absorbing passion. The Sea Lion’s Whelp. “The Turkish battleship Hair-ed-Din was sunk by a British cub- | marine.”—Birmingham Daily Post. ‘‘His rendering of ‘The Little Grey Home in the West’ is charming, and many people are really raving about it. be luilodar ad ah trah ar th art htr.’’—South Pacific Mail. Even the printer, you will observe, was affected. those wonderful (but slightly disturbing) people to whom | | |

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leal | fec- | ine, orse | and | , us } SO | ome | ruit yner lite sian the the cer- | ned ; no we 1 to $s is be- our ome- 1d to | ble a | Betty | yuths | my c are ,OUIS | rowd as a ze of yhom | ever to represent the gradual evolution of; Generals’ eyes fill with tears | the Right Honourable gentleman from | order | Zens. SerTeMBER 1, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 181 CHARIVARIA. A votuMmE of war speeches by Mr. Luoyp GrorGE is shortly to be pub- | lished under the title, Through Terror to Triumph. Bogey “to Idol. se Mr. | his contention to be that he | knave, but the other thing. We read that tastes the soup prepared for his It would be wrong, how- | soldiers’ dinners “he gulps down the to assume that this is intended| stuff so condescendingly that even the} that he has retained : a little grit. ‘i In | that this touching effect may | ee | } is not a|the sinking of the Arabic, President Winson went to Philadelphia to see an oculist. His object was, no doubt, to len the Kartser} get rid of the dust that Count BeErn- stoRFF had thrown into his eyes. Some of his best friends hope, however, A list of offenders, including a town |be assured the army cooks are in- councillor, a special constable, a member structed, whenever the War-Lord is| of the Salvation Army, and a military book about the Angels at Mons is On of onion. the side of the Angels. So the [—__ Angels are all right. An article on a dealer in wild beasts mentions his “ jolly little colony of American skunks,” and tells us that “twenty of these interesting creatures arrived direct from New York in first-class con- dition. . They make great pets and are quite harmless.” They must not be confused with the hyphenated species still to be met with in America, which are extremely offensive. | at Marshal von HixpENBURG’s | sister has issued a series of | “commands ”’ for German citi- As one of them is— “About turn! Face God and | the Fatherland; turn your backs on frivolity and on mis-| trust of your leaders,”’ we may gather that her opinion of the | present attitude of Germany | is unfavourable. = te > — SS S fE~ aan SOLS See As milkmaids in Essex are | scarce, milking is to be taught | experimentally in the elemen- tary schools ‘with the aid « of | dummy cows. We rather de- | precate this innovation; the| last thing we want to en- courage is the use of “ the cow | } ‘‘T wisH I COULD GO OUT WITH YOU, THEM GERMANS. ‘“‘Don’T you Harotp Beastier’s forthcoming expected, to double the usual quantity | officer, who have been fined at Southend | for showing lights in houses on the front, - SS — SS AZZ Tom. WORRY, MOTHER. You LEAVE I pon’r TRUST "EM TO ME!” has been published under the heading of “ Blind Leaders.” Do we trace here a humorous intention ? A hundred thousand citizens of Sofia are stated to have assembled before the Italian Legation and demanded the intervention of Bulgaria against Turkey. The total population of the Bulgarian capital at the last census was 102,812, and it is felt that the other 2,812 owe an explanation of their non-attendance. A proclamation has been issued saying that all persons who refuse to accept or con- tinue work which is in the public interest will be severely punished. Persons who by threats of force or other means prevent others from working will likewise be punished. Perhaps we ought to add that the proclamation has been issued by the German Goy- ernor-General in Brussels, and does not apply to South Wales. * The German Crown Prince is reported to have recently informed his army that “ voleano of untamable force shakes and quivers, so we wait with unbroken vigour for as a with the iron tail.” *x % The promotion of Captain (tem- | porary Major) the Right Honourable | Sir F. E. Smrru, Knt., Oxfordshire Yeo- | Manry, to be a temporary Lieutenant- Colonel has attracted much attention. Some confusion has been caused by the fact that a gentleman of the same name had already been appointed | temporary Solicitor- Genet ral, r. Ramsay M: weDow: ALD recently in- Mie an audience in the Oddfellows’ Hall, Edinburgh, that if the Indepen- dent. Labour ‘Party had criticised in such a way that our country was| | ** with A cynical correspondent of Notes and |\the day when the Kaiser once more Queries, describing the ravages of book-' orders us from the trenches.’ Since the worms in his library, remarks that ree veipt of this information the troops terrible discrimination leave modern books alone.” wholesome even for a bookworm, while the others do their own boring. It is quite a mist aa to suppose that | the recent visit of the German air-ships created no impression in England. A |soldier writes from the Front :—-‘‘ The weakened, they had not done it con- | sciously or deliber ‘ately. We gather | and you Zepps have been to our place, Mother was frightened, but, as | know, the least thing upsets her.” they under his command have been shaking It is sup-|and quivering more vigorously than posed that some of them are too un-| ever, x k We also hear that the aspens of the Argonne are saying some very bitter things about the untamable volcano for having pinched their simile. ‘‘The marriage was of the ‘quiet’ order, there being no bridesmaids or bridegroom.” Cleckheaton Guardian. But the presents were numerous and handsome, so we dare say he was not Shortly after salting the news of|}seriously missed. VOL. CXLIX. K

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| are in earnest. PUNCH, OR THE Lé INDON CHARIVARL. [Serremper 1, 1915. A DEAR OLD FETISH. [The author of these lines has no great quarrel with those writers | (if any) who honestly believe that the adoption of National Service | would bring in only a negligible addition to the country’s military | strength, though even so it would finally prove to our Allies that we But a very brief study of the facts would show that among those who follow callings which contribute nothing to the making of munitions or to our export trade or to any other national need there must still be between two or three million men of fighting age, a number probably not less than the total of those who have enlisted for active service since the War began.] Some for their fathers’ ancient faith will fight, For land and liberty their lives will give, But we of England, if I read aright, Have something dearer yet for which to live; “Take from us any joys you like,” we cry; ‘‘We’d bear the loss, however much we missed ‘em ; Let truth and justice, fame and honour die, But spare, O spare, our Voluntary System! “’Tis true that other service owed the State Lays on the general head its common due; One sticks it willy-nilly—tax or rate— Nor leaves the man next door to pay for two; But, should the Nation call for soldier’s work, Saying, ‘I want more men; I must enlist ‘em ;’ Two million odd shall claim the right to shirk By virtue of the Voluntary System.” Splendid! For, if our strength is overtasked For lack of larger service, man and gun, And by compulsion (no one’s leave being asked) We are reduced to helots of the Hun; How fine, from our address “Somewhere in Hell,” When we have bowed to Winttam’s boots and) kissed ’em, To boast—“ Though England’s fallen, yet she fell True to her hallowed Voluntary System.” oa OUR REGIMENTAL SPORTS. WE held them in camp, and they passed off with less than usual of the friction commonly associated with such events. It is true that the regulars who shared our neighbourhood elected, in a spirit of friendly emulation, to | hold their sports on the same day, but we came to an} amicable agreement as to the division of the available wounded soldiers and other spectators. We didn’t invite the | Provost-Marshal, partly because we thought that a number | of volunteers in uniform, complete with brassard, whilst | not engaged in strict military duties, might bring on an attack of dyspepsia, and partly because we knew that he was busy using his free pass to the music-halls. In the tug-of-war, the Motor Squadron ought to have been handicapped, as the practice which they had had | in hauling their cars out of ditches gave them an unfair | advantage. An attempt by A Company to make up for'| their want of skill by trickery proved abortive. They} concealed entrenching tools about their persons and | promptly fell down and started digging themselves in. | There is a slight difference of opinion as to whether their | Company Commander was justified in blowing the “ Cease | fire’’ on his whistle in order to encourage them at the| moment when they were on the verge of defeat. The obstacle race was a great disappointment to the Ambulance section, as there were scarcely any casualties | worth mentioning. The two men who were nearly suffo- | Holroyd’s collar-bone refused to break was declared by the Ambulance to be contrary to all the rules of anatomy and could only have been brought about by a malicious desire to deprive them of a well-merited case. Holroyd says that he always “ takes off” from his collar-bone when going over an obstacle and that he would have won the race but for the officious interference of the Ambulance. In the end the Ambulance section had to content themselves with one sprained ankle, two barked shins, and Bailey’s contused eye. Bailey’s eye got like that through the success of my scheme in substituting a painted over-ripe egg for the apple in his basin of water. The apple has to be got out of the basin of water by the competitor with his mouth, without the use of his hands. I explained to Bailey before the race that the correct procedure was to get the apple against the side of the basin and then give it a sharp bite. If Bailey’s apple hadn’t been an egg he would have been very successful, but he was so surprised when he found half an unpalatable egg in his mouth that he dropped his glasses in the basin. The Judge, who hadn’t thoroughly grasped the situation, refused to allow Bailey to fish for his glasses and insisted on his proceeding with the race. Bailey, who doesn’t see very well with glasses and is practically blind without them, set off in the wrong direction, trod on the man next to him, and contused his eye on the basin next but one. The man on whom Bailey trod was very cross | because, after two abortive attempts to eat his own beard, he had just secured the apple and, owing to Bailey's clumsiness, he had to start all over again. If we had told the people who loaned us the forms that we were going to use them for a land boat race I expect that they would have supplied us with a more durable make or else not loaned any at all. Higgs lost the race for our Company by falling off in front of our boat. By the time that we had discovered that he was lying on the missing leg of our form the Motor Squadron, whose mechanical experience had enabled them to adjust the dislocated parts of their form quicker than anyone else, had won the race. In the Staff race the hired Cook’s Mate, who doesn’t understand military discipline, tactlessly beat our Com- mandant by about two ribs of beef. Our Commandant was, as usual, closely followed by the Adjutant, with the rest of the Staff at a respectful distance. The Camp Quartermaster got a bad start owing to an ill-timed enquiry | by the cook as to whether any provision had been made | for the next morning’s breakfast. In spite of the misapplied energy of Bailey, Higgs and | Holroyd our Company scored the greatest number of points and won the Company Challenge Cup. The only trouble about that cup is that we don’t know what to do with it now that we have got it. Our Company Commander seems condemned to carry it about with him for the rest of his life. Whenever he puts it down someone picks it up and gives it back to him. The last time that I saw him he was starting on a seven-mile march from the camp to the nearest railway station carrying the cup, which had just been handed to | him for the fifteenth time. | ‘‘The Grand Duchess of Mecklenburg has been appointed Com- | mander-in-Chief of the Turkish forces at the Dardanelles in room of Liman von Sanders.’’—Evening Times (Glasgow). Von SanveErs is said to be much annoyed at being super- | seded by another old lady. ‘*Duck SHooTING AT CLOONFINLOUGH. A good many lovers of the rifle have visited the above lake and brought down some fine birds, including Mr. Patrick Regan, Mr. Kerr and Paddy Covahey, all of Strokestown.’’—Longford Leader. | cated under the tarpaulin both “came to” while the} Little accidents of this kind are almost unavoidable when | stretchers were being fetched, and the way in which] people use rifles for duck-shooting.

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the and esire that over but end one used i my | pple the hout the | pple | bite, | been | half | sses | sped | sses who | lind | the | next | ross | ard, | ley’s | that pect 1ake | our ‘ime sing ical arts e. sn’t om- lant the ump | uiry | 1ade and ints uble h it ems life. ives ting way d to ‘om- m of per- | | | | and Kerr | hen | — PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Sepremper 1, 1915. \ \ it, 1) | 1] A : SAN \ \\ a a_i ea, =—_ ae, i “| SNES stn. comm } Ny) \{ | THE NEW “BATTLE OF THE BALTIC.” | & Tirvitz (after Netson—with a difference). “I SEE NO RUSSIAN VICTORY!”

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| Sepremper 1, 1915.] OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. NEW WAR BOOKS. (From the List of Messrs. Pryor and Pepys.) RECOLLECTIONS OF AN ARCHDUCAL TWEENY. A vouumE of rich and arresting individuality. The authoress was en- gaged in the household of one of the brothers of the present Emperor of | AustriA-HunGARY not more than sixty years ago, and enjoyed exceptional opportunities for studying the inner life of the Harsspurcs, which she has turned to excellent use in these palpi- | | tating pages. No such pen-picture of the Aged Emperor as a young man has ever been attempted. | Astrakhan cover with gilt top, 21s. net. | With a photogravure portrait of the | authoress in her Sunday best. | MEMOIRS OF A CHANCELLOR’S CHAUFFEUR. A book of dynamic and magnetic interest. The author was for two years chauffeur to Prince BiLow, formerly German Imperial Chancellor, and was, as such, naturally the repository of his most intimate confidences. He accom- panied the Prince on his memorable mission to Italy, and gives a version of the negotiations which is at once veracious and enthralling. | Buckskin, with gilt monogram, 15s. net. THE DIARY OF AN IMPERIAL LOCKSMITH. A work of drastic and astringent vitality, appearing at the psychologic moment. ‘The writer, who enjoyed the monopoly of keeping the locks at Pots- dam in repair, was frequently in a position to overhear some of the most intimate conversations between the Katser and his Ministers. Printed in Black Letter. 10s. 6d. net. With numerous diagrams, and a Prefa- tory Note by the Chevalier Le Queux. | THE CHANCELLERIES OF EUROPE, By An Hasitvk. No one knows the Chancelleries of Europe so well as the ubiquitous cos- mopolitan who has penned this alluring | volume. Every one of them flings wide | and places at his disposal the most secret documents in its archives. such facilities, how could he fail to write a book of momentous poignancy ? UNDER THE LIMES—AND ROSE. A Book of Interesting Candour. By X. The identity of X is not likely ever PUNCH, its portals on hearing him approach, | With Old Lady (at Waxworks). ‘‘CaN YOU KINDLY DIRECT ME TO—(realising her mistake)— Ox! I BEG YOUR PARDON.”’ to be penetrated, because it is un- known even to his publisher, profound mystery having surrounded the sub- mission of the priceless MS. His revelations of Berlin’s dark side, of the secret police, of espionage and the private life of many of the actors in the great world-drama, from The Highest himself, have only to be read to be perused. Order at once. MEMOIRS OF AN INTERNATIONAL BUTTONHOLER. The Cavaliere Tufton Hunter, who is |&@ persona gratissima at all the Courts 'of South-Eastern Europe, and was specially decorated by the late Sultan with the Order of Veracity (Third Class), in this enthralling volume re- |ports the confidential conversations | that he has had at different times with Cavour, Bismarck, Crispi, STAMBU- Lorr and, through spiritistic means, | with Junius Cmsar, Hannrpan, ATTILA, PETER THE GREAT and NapoLeon. The character sketch of King FErprNnanp, “the Bulgarian Botanist,” as the author wittily calls him, is alone worth the money. Limp crocodile cover, with purple edges. £2 Qs. net. With a portrait of the author conversing with Bismarck at Homburg, and a Preface by the Emperor MENELIK. ‘* MANCHESTER CORPORATION BaTHs. SpeciaL Notice To BATHERS. Throwing soap in the water is most damag- ing to its appearance.”’ It is; we once had a most dainty- looking piece of soap that was utterly ruined in this way.

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186 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. (SerreMBeER 1, 1915. CHARLIE. For weeks there has been no escap- | ing him. Nations might be at each other’s throats; Zeppelins might be dropping bombs upon sleeping families ; hopes and fears might make hearts beat faster, while a sense of calamity filled the air; yet all the time his claims | as a gravity-remover in excelsis have met one’s eyes at every turn. Some-| times they were fortified by effigies of |top—as, for a myriad falls. and distributes a myriad black eyes, He kicks abundantly and is abundantly kicked. He runs and is pursued. ‘There is no physical indignity that he does not suffer—and inflict. Such impartiality is rare in drama, where usually men are either on top or underneath. In the ordinary way our pet comedians must be on example, Mr. GEorGE | \rarely still, and he gives full measure. discourage or deter. His very essence In the course of five minutes he receives ,is resiliency under difficulties, an un- abashed and undefeatable front. By gestures rather than facial play , does he gain his ends—gestures allied to acrobatic gifts of no mean order. He has a host of comic steps, a thousand |odd movements of his hands and head, \which, when brought into play under domestic or social conditions, are ab- surdly funny. With his hat, his stick and his cigarette, he has also a vast | himself, both life-size and gigantic, a|Graves with his serenely conquering | repertory of quaint actions; and it was representation of one of which recently tongue. found its way into a drawing in Mr. receives punishment en route, eventually |to appear in the same costume. More than one triumphs. > ’ Punch’s own pages. Even the clown, though he But CHARLIE CHAPLIN sel- /a wise instinct that caused him always | ‘ But | his especial fascination is that life finds weekly paper has been printing his dom wins. Circumstances are toomuch him always ready for it—not because autobiography serially. The time clearly having come to;jof grotesque misfortune. for him, and he goes out in a very riot With him, he is armed by sagacity, but because he |is even better armed by folly. He is investigate this personality, I entered however, are always our sympathies. | first cousin to the village idiot, a natural promised a These and a trifle of £500 a week (if! child of nonsense, and, like Anravs, a cinema theatre which play with the famous man at his best. And then I entered others, for Chap- linism had caught me. Whether or not CHARLIE CHAPLIN is, as is claimed for him by certain not disinterested people, the “funniest man orf earth,” I leave to others to de- cide. Two persons rarely agree on such nice points, and I retire at once from the arbitrament because I don’t know all the others. But that he is funny is beyond question. I will swear to that. His hu- mour is of such elemental variety that he would make a Tierra del Fuegan or a Bushman of Central Australia laugh not much ‘* WHAT YE DOING THERE, JARGE?”’ ‘“‘Ou, I BE JEST HIDING THIS NOTICE. YE SEF, IF THEY GERMANS EVER DO LAND, I DOANT WANT ’EM TER MISS ANYTHING.”’ ~~ | every time he rises from a knockdown blow he is the stronger. The promise of CHAPLIN is sacred; the promise of JoHN Brapsury is not more so. Seeing him, one s/is assured that he is about ' to make hay of all the ;° other dramatis persone. One may sit back safely and prepare for fun. He joins the film in his un- obtrusive methodist way as quietly as a smut settling on a nose, and behold he is the very spirit of discord, the drollest of all the lords of misrule. Wherever he goes CHARLIE CHAPLIN is crossing the equator. less than our sophistical selves. One needs no civilised culture to appreciate the fun of the harlequinade, and to, that has CHARLIE, with true instinct, | returned. But it is the harlequinade accelerated, intensified, toned up for the exacting taste of the great and growing “picture” public. It is also farce at its busiest, most furious. Craruie has brought back that admir- able form of humour which does not disdain the co-operation of fisticuffs, and in which, by way of variety, one man is aimed at and another, too intrusive, is hit. However long the world may last, it is safe to say that the spectacle of. one man.-receiving a blow meant for another will ever be popular. Indeed the delivery of blows at all will ever be popular. Thus— glory be !—are we built. What strikes one quickly is the realisa- tion of how much harder CHARLIE works than any other of the more illustrious filmers. He is rarely out of the picture, the paragraphs tell the truth) are his only reward ; for of course our laughter he cannot hear. Yet I suppose no one man has, in the same space of time, ever made so many people laugh as he. Whether his fellow cinema actors laugh I cannot say. But everyone else does. It is a curious thought that CHariie does not hear it. In the pictures CHARLIE has no immediate rival, although on the actual variety stage I have seen several drolls very much in his tradition, which is associated with the name of Karno. One detects the KAarno brand at once, but in CHARLIE CHAPLIN, on the syn- thesizing film, it has an extra drop of nervous fluid. He has none of the bland masterfulness of the urbane and adventurous Max LinpEer; he has none of the massive repose of the late Joun Bunny; he is without the resource of the Italian Potmor. He remains a butt, or, at any rate, a victim of circumstances whom nothing can Another ‘‘ Quiet”? Wedding. ‘¢Great interest was taken in the wedding at Clopton on Wednesday. Councillor S. Smith, of Kettering, who presided, at once closed the meeting and thanked the police for their quiet and tactful manner.”’ Northampton Daily Chronicle. “« Kingston Mixture’ at 5d. per oz., or 1/7 per lb. If you are a connoisseur this blend will please you.”—Forward (Glasgow). So it will if you are an arithmetician with a properly developed business instinct. ‘* McGREGOR-CHEERS.—At Simla, on the 6th June, 1915, the wife of J. McGregor- Cheers, of twins—boy and girl.’’—Pioneer. Good luck to the wee McGregors (one more cheer) ! From a naval officer’s letter describ- ing the destruction of the Kénigsberg:— ‘*We were at our stations from 8.45 a.m. till 4.45 p.m, and 11 hours of that were under fire.’’—Morning Paper. How time does fly when you're happy! m fir in ev sti

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SepreMBER 1, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. AT THE FRONT. TuE ideal of every good soldier is, I am sure, to go through a battle that isn’t really dangerous and emerge from it with a wound that doesn’t really | hurt. At the moment I have attained this disreputable consummation and am | in the rare and refreshing fruit stage. | We are all proud of ourselves, and quite a number of the best people have wired to let us know they are proud of us, so perhaps I ought to let you know about Our Battle. I can, I am afraid, only give it you from my point of view. At three something, A.m., during the most horrible noise since the cubist orchestra disbanded, I attacked with magnificent élan. I ran a dozen yards and fell into a shell-hole, then I got up and ran some more yards, and then, dear reader, I did the only possible | thing—I walked. You who cover | your five hundred yards at a run on | Hampstead Heath have no idea what you feel like starting off up-hill, on a| hot night, after five days’ close con- | finement, equipped with everything | considered essential to destroying, sav- | ing, and supporting life for a period of | twenty-four hours. Fortunately a similar feeling seemed to have got hold of the men, and we went on looking | like a sample of how not to perform | extended order drill until we fell into a | transverse depression which we even- | tually decided to be a trench. I con- ferred with myself for a moment, and realized that it wasn’t the line we wanted, so we dashed on again relent- lessly, at a pace that would have left a hedgehog standing, to our goal, where we remained, after necessary altera- tions, until they sent some unsuspect- ing regiment to relieve us next morning. The first remark, as distinct from a shout, that I heard after leaving our parapet came from Private Henry, my most notorious malefactor. As the first attempt at a wire entanglement In our new position went heavenward ten seconds after its emplacement, and a big tree just to our right collapsed suddenly like a dying pig, he turned round with a grin, observing, ‘“ Well, Sir, we do see a bit of life, if we don’t make money.” I never saw a man all day who hadn’t a grin ready when you passed, and a bit of a riposte if you passed the time of day with him. And So we went away at last with our tails up, having done all things needful. It was then that my troubles began. Some evilly disposed person: imagined he had seen a bullet come into me and sneaked about it to the doctor, who came to enquire after it. I argued that even if it had come in it had gone straight on practically without stop- SS a =_ ——— Row ays > NS SS ee Navy Man (closing the debate). ‘‘IF THE KAISER KNEW ABOUT YOUR FACE ’E’D GIVE YOU TWO-POUND-TEN A WEEK TO FRIGHTEN THE BRITISH ARTILLERY ’oRSES.’* ping and that I had no idea where it was, and, anyhow, there must be plenty without bothering about that one, if it was munitions they wanted. I touched lightly on our eight-mile march back, and offered to illustrate a new one-step I had thought out. The fact was, I explained, it was more what you’d call a _half-step. Here the doctor, who had been worry- ing round, observed tersely—he makes rather a strong line of observing tersely —“a month, and then a fortnight’s holiday.” So here I am, doing the month, and the only complaint I have to make now I’m really settled in here—they haven’t moved me for two days—is about the fortnight’s holiday. The regiment says, “ Of course you'll get sick leave;’’ whereas the doctor here is so optimistic as to suggest that I'll probably be able to get regimental leave, but sick leave is outside his pro- vince. There are therefore moments when I have hopes of getting both ; on the contrary, there are moments After all, what does one want leave for, anyhow? What with “Sister Susie” and “ Our Miss Gibbs” straight from England, and dear old English ladies stopping you in the street to ask after their sons, and no lights after eight, what more could England offer ? Another Impending Apology. From a list of lecturers and their subjects in The Princeton Seminary Bulletin :— “© 1911---12, Sir Andrew Fraser. Missions in India. (Sir Andrew Fraser was providentially prevented from giving the lectures.)”

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188 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVART. [SepTeMBER 1, 1915, BLANCHE’S LETTERS. Srrenvovus TIMEs. Hostel for Munition Workers (Ci-devant Broadacres). Dearest DarHne,—You see from above heading that we’ve turned our place in Kent to useful purposes. I’ve a houseful of people here, and we’re all working at full pressure. We motor over every morning, several carfuls of us, to the big factory at — Hush! — and there we make—no, not even to you, dearest !—all day. We were shown how to do it by an official person who’s distinctly inclined to be a darling. He specially overlooks our work, and the other day when he came round he asked me what it was I had made. “ Why, it’s so-and-so, of course,” I said. Beryl and Babs were looking on, and it was quite a little triumph for me. He said it was absolutely wonderful that I’d been able to make anything so different from the pattern, and he took it away (to test it, I believe); and, entre nous, chérie, I fancy that by some lucky unconscious stroke of genius I’ve made something particularly deadly and fearful; but not a word! To-day I’ve been put on something different. At our work we wear Olga’s latest, the very last word in Munition Pinnies, a dream and a scream in one, pour qui sait le porter. We come home in the afternoon to a thé économique, milk instead of cream, only one lump of sugar in each cup, and horrid plain biscuits and bread-and-butter. Still, we feel it’s discipline and that we’re obeying orders. Nobody dresses for dinner, and it’s quite a plain meal, badly served (we ‘ve not found a decent cook since Gaston left us to join his own army), but we don’t care. I feel it’s not right to eat anything but pink mutton, burnt beef, tough poultry and odious puddings, in the present state of things. We’ve only maidservants, with the exception of an old butler of nearly seventy, and what with drilling and route-marching all day with the Village Veterans he’s so tired by dinner-time that he regularly falls asleep as he serves the barley-water. The other night, while he was standing behind Josiah’s chair, he went off as usual and dreamed, as he told us afterwards, that the Village Veterans were at the Front and that he was just taking a certain German Prince prisoner. Under the influence of the dream he fell upon Josiah and seized him round the throat, and there was quite a horrid scene before we could wake him. You see from this that Josiah’s back from his enormous wanderings and adventures. When he first got home he was immensely sunburned and had | i quite an expression, and on my re- marking upon it he said, “I should think I have an expression! It’s enough to give anyone an expression to be shipwrecked and cast away among those old cannibals, the Boldereens, and for months together not to know each morning whether you’ll be their king or their dinner before night!” His expression’s wearing off now, I’m glad to see. As I said to him, that sort of thing isn’t good form; in civi- lised life it’s correct to have very little expression in one’s face. Since he came back he’s enrolled himself as quite a lot of things that I can’t remember just now. You’d hardly recognise this place of ours. My own, own flower-garden is all cabbages and potatoes; the tennis courts and croquet lawns are given up to turnips and carrots; Ladye Betty's Walk is sown with onions; the park is being ploughed up for corn or wheat or whatever it is people eat most of; our own dear little golf-links are full of creatures grazing; the little wilderness you were so fond of is crowded with pigs; there’s poultry pretty well every- where; and the big conservatory is used for bread-fruit, of which Josiah brought back heaps of roots—isn’t that a lovely idea for war-time, dearest ?—for the bread-fruit, when grown and ripe, I suppose, is just a nice sort of loaf that only wants cutting into slices! Altogether we may claim to be ready for anything. If everyone would do as much as we’re doing, England would be entirely self-supporting and we shouldn’t have to import any food- stuffs—forgive the technical term, dearest ; I’m afraid I am getting tech- nical, and sometimes, Daphne, I’m almost frightened at the organising talents I ’m developing. Juno ffarrington, the Southlands’ girl, commandeered all their motor cars and offered them and herself (she’s an expert driver) for transport service abroad, was accepted, and went off at daughter’s a cloth woman, and to the end of time you'll never get a muslin woman and a cloth woman to see things from the same point of view. I’d a letter from Juno yesterday, in which she says, “ Doing fine and mak- ing myself very useful. I’ve both my motor-cycles here, and I won’t rest till the powers that be make me a despatch- rider. Think, Blanche, how glorious if I were laid low by shrapnel just as I was tearing along with despatches! Why, the boy I ought to have been couldn’t do much better thari that! Comfort the dear little mother, there’s a good fellow, and do, do try to persuade her not to send me a sob by every post.” Beryl and Babs and I were discuss- ing the famine in coloured materials one day lately, and the prospect of having to array ourselves in the dis- mallest and dreariest of neutral tints, and we jointly committed these little verses :— The pinks and the greens and the mauves are gone, And the light-hearted crowd that wore them; And dull-gowned women are “ carrying-on” With a resolute gaze before them. Dingy and dowdy? Well, who’s afraid? Shall we weakly bewail (no, never !) The bright-tinted frocks we once displayed In times that seem gone for ever? No hues will be left us but drab and grey, And, sisters, we want no others; The only colours we think of to-day March with our gallant brothers. Anything you like in it is mine, and if there are any mistakes in metre or composition please set them down to Beryl and Babs. Ever thine, BLANCHE. OUR LITERARY TAPLEYS. [‘* A wet day, if it is wet enough, thoroughly and unmistakably wet, is a pleasant and desirable thing.’’ Canon Hannay in ‘‘ The Daily News.”’) “ WHEN days are rainy, don’t go term- ing ‘em A beastly bore,” says GrorceE A. Bir- MINGHAM ; once, leaving a brief note for her par- | « You’d find it awkward, I've no doubt, ents: “Sorry, dears, but our country | Torear young ducks in time of drought.” needs the cars, and you'll both be the | ., The War is not,” says ARNOLD BEx- better for more walking.” The duchess came round to me (it was before we left town) in floods of tears, lamenting the dangers and hardships her “ Only | One” was gone to face, and exclaiming | between her weeps, at frequent inter- vals, “ What would her grandmamma have said!” I tried to console her, said how proud she ought to be of Juno, and that one couldn’t expect a high-spirited girl, especially in war- time, to trouble much about what her grandmamma would have said; but it | The fact is the little | Neglect is just the cireumstance was no use. NETT, « A wholly unmixed evil when it Can keep, by way of prose or rhyme, Our greatest scribes on overtime.” “Should my dramatic schemes mis- carry,” Wisely remarks Sir J. M. Barrie, «T dance for joy and shout, ‘ Hooray! So much less supertax to pay!’”’ “Though quite forgotten just at pre- sent,” Says G. B. S., “I find it pleasant; duchess is a muslin woman, and her| To give one’s modesty a chance.”

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the slin see ew. in ak- my till tch- is if as I 1es | een rat! re’s lade st.” uss- rials t of dis- ints, ittle S are | hem; and re or n to iE. 5. ughly > and id term- | Bir- loubt, | ght.” BeEv- SerTeMBER 1, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. 189 MILITARY COMPLIMENTS. | ae Ir Brinton was not a good soldier it) ~ TANNIN RM : SAV ETA ANNAN was scarcely for want of trying. But | HW iW. there are things in “ Infantry Training” | not dreamed of in a shipping clerk’s | philosophy. And after a heated passage or two with the Company Sergeant- | Major (in which, as Brinton explained | afterwards, the victory was really his, because, while the S.-M. was merely making an exhibition of himself before the company, Brinton was _ being brilliant and scathing within his own heart to an intelligent audience of one), he decided to leave his general military | | development to the processes of time, | and to specialise. Wherefore he pur- | | chased a neat volume on “‘Ceremonial,”’ | | and stuck to it. | Here and there a soul finds its secular | | bible in strange places, and Brinton | | found it in the book on Ceremonial. It | | was meat and drink to him. It filled | his whole existence. And the part of | it he loved the best of all was the part | | where they tell you How and When to | | Salute. Im a fortnight Brinton had | saluted the Colonel in fifteen different | situations, each of them requiring | correctitude of movement combined | | with that initiative on which is founded | |the superiority of the British army. | On the last five of these the Adjutant | was present. He had heard of Brinton, | |and came to scoff, but remained to admire. After a time Brinton became known in the battalion. Young subalterns, | still nervous in their new dignity, were | apt to invite his salute whenever they felt the responsibilities of their position | ~ weighing too heavily upon them. It! would have given confidence to the| veriest wash-out. It was not so much | the respect and deference it conveyed | as the assurance that the Army had | yy ° r . sé ” laid its trust most tenderly in the| BUSINESS’ AS USUAL. temporary Second Lieutenant. Itsaid:| American Duettists (concluding their ‘* Refined Act”’). “We know all al : ee ‘‘ ALTHOUGH WE MAY BE NOOTRAL kno A = a out you. We have | Ws HOPE YOU'LL WIN THR yioH?, seen you take the Company. We have So TELL YOUR FRIENDS, AND COME AGAIN heard your lectures on Flies and March To-MOR-RER NIGHT.”’ | Discipline. But we will follow you | _none the less—or at least we will take|confusion. But to my mind the victory|with three other conspirators who | you with us.” lon that occasion was Brinton’s yet | ought to have known better, and was | Once or twice a daring spirit would | again, though all the devices of mis- | upon Brinton seconds before the | get about in the officers’ mess. They | placed ingenuity were employed against |famous “eyes right” could get into would give Brinton parcels to fetch| him. Time, place, and circumstances | motion. from the poste-restante and wait for | were all chosen carefully with a view to| It is true, I daresay, that the intrepid | | him in the High Street, extended to|his confounding. The same Sergeant-! Private gave a start of surprise, the | three paces. But Brinton was never | Major who had earlier crossed his path | very faintest shadow of a start. Cap- | beaten. His hands might be full, but | was given the job on a rainy summer tain Briggs smiled sardonically and his “eyes right” was impeccable. | morning ofsendinghim back frombreak-| waited. Behind the bracken three | There was more professional pride in it | fast parade to fetch Captain Briggs’s pairs of eyes bulged expectantly from | than in the evolutions of a dozen right | bicycle from his billet to the officers’ | their sockets. _ hands sweeping to a dozen forelocks. | mess tent. The approach to that high| Brinton stopped. He met the Cap- They say Brinton was beaten in the | place is steep and rocky, along a wooded | tain’s tremendous gaze with a look end. I have heard the tale of how | defile, and Captain Briggs stepped out|in which surprise, resentment, pity Captain Briggs brought him to alleged | of the ambush where he had been lying! and devotion to discipline were about

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190 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Sepremser 1, 1915, 4 ' masa le all ja: VOX POPULI. Mistress. ‘* WuaT DO you sAY, MarTHA? CONSCRIPTION NEXT WEEK? NonsENSE! WHERE DID YOU HEAR THAT?’’ Martha. ‘* Wert, Ma’aM, MY FRIEND, HE’S A WAITER AT A CLUB, HE SAYS IT COME STRAIGHT THROUGH FROM THE WAR OFFICE LAST NIGHT ON THE RED TAPE.”’ equally blended. Then he spoke the | Nor does a soldier there assume dete bal noteworthy words, ‘‘ Good TWITTING THE TURK. His university costume, morning to you, Sir.” Tue Turk, he is an honest man And though it makes the Faithful fume They may not be in the Drill Book| And fights us fair and true, It makes the Faithless clean. of Salutes. But in the tone of them | But we annoy him all we can and their spirit I know, although Iwas! As we are paid to do; not there to see, that Private Brinton | It’s very hard to keep him riled ; was vindicated against thosewhosought | We find him strangely reconciled to compass his undoing. And things that once just made him wild He takes a liking to. Ay, all our arts have some reward, But this I think’s the peach, For man can bear the invaders’ horde That riots in his reach, That raids his roost in arméd swarms Or swamps his citadels with storms, ‘Sherlock Holmes” Not Wanted. | The bully tin no more insults, But not their nude insulting forms ‘During the past few days three bicycles The Libby gives no grief, A-bathing off his beach, have been stolen from Exeter streets, . The | That used to soar from catapults police consider that a bigycle thief is at work.”’ And bitff the shocked Redif ; Western Morning News. | At first it gave him quite a turn, MR. PUNCH’S ROLL OF HONOUR. The flight of that innocuous urn, Sub-Lt. A — R Flereat Eatanswill. - eg A ub-Lt. Anan P. Herpent, R.N.V.R., And then he spoiled the whole concern | Fawke Battalion, wounded at the Dar- ‘*As the editor of the Wapella Post has} By gobbling up the beef. : ° : dropped the mask which hid the abysmal ys 6 uP danelles, is now in hospital at home. brute, we know now just what he is, and The Yet when the cruder kind of wheeze We are delighted to conclude that he World-Spectator will take no further part in| No longer irritates, is well on the road to recovery, since pr hE soir apts Braces Lic a ng not | There’s one that never fails to tease he has contributed from his bed some a World-Spectator (Saskatchewan). His friends across the Straits, more of those excellent verses which Where many a Moslem scans our slopes | have often adorned these pages. “A young married woman was fined 10s. | (With now and then some cramp, one | at Westminster yesterday for giving “intoxi- hopes, ; cating liquor (stout) to a baby under one year | Fyom looking long through telescopes)| ‘‘ Sir John Hewett, a.c.s.1., late Lieut.- of age. When called to account by a police- And sim ly ealien and aan ‘ pes) Governor of .the United Provinces of Agra constable, the woman said she did not know P*) ness and Oudh, has joined together during the she was doing wrong.’’—Morning Paper. We go and bathe, in shameless scores, | daytime.’’—North China Herald. She will now perhaps make herself} Beneath his baleful een, We had not previously heard of his acquainted with the new regulations | Disrobe, unscathed, on sacred shores __| partition, but are glad that he has fol- against “ treating.” | And wallow in between ; | lowed the example of his late Provinces. —_—

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I | [CE ‘ume rde 1S, V.R., Dar- ome. ut he 3ince 3ome ‘hich ieut.- Agra g the f his 3 fol- nces. THE Prestpgyy IS STILL THINKING. ( Signeo:) J.TUMULTY : af Oy ret tigate ‘= E HibeEee Mn Mt I Mani LE GRAND PENSEUR. CHARIVARI.—Seprempen 1, 1915. Hu - — — a — — - =H AW Te BN ‘ y

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Sertember 1, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAR IVARI. 193 A COLOURABLE INCIDENT. (Being a study of the methods of certain agencies of publication.) I. THe Nakep TrurTH. Lieut. John Smith, a Territorial officer, when crossing the Strand at about 9 p.m., was knocked down by a taxicab, but fortunately escaped injury. II. How ir 1s CLorHen. (a) By The Daily Mail. We offer no excuse or apology for calling special attention to the very disquieting incident reported on page 5. As our readers are by this time aware, the policy of The Daily Mail (backed, | it is only fair to add, by the generous | support of The Times and The Evening | News) has throughout been opposed to the soothing-syrup methods of the official censorship. From the fact that! the accident by which a gallant officer very narrowly escaped destruction has been allowed to be made public, it would appear that at least in part the truTH, for which we have so earnestly | pleaded, is at last to be told to the | people of this country. But it will be | noticed that we emphasise the words “in part.” We do this deliberately and with a grave regard to our | enormous responsibility in this hour | of crisis. Here then is a direct | challenge. Let the War Office or the Government publish at once a full list of the numbers of officers and men in His Majesty’s service who have, since | | July, 1914, been injured, or nearly in- | | jured, in street accidents. We venture -to assert that the result would be such an outery from all classes for somebody to do something that no obstructionist, /no matter how highly placed, could dare stand against it. | (b) By The Westminster Gazette. | | AT THE TOP?’’ 4 6. - ae THE “‘ANTI-ZEPP” FIRE ESCAPE. Jones (practising *‘ easy’’ descents). ‘‘OH, WHY DID I LEAVE THAT BOOK,OF DIRECTIONS | That section of the Conscriptionist | Press which remains still obstinately | blind to the magnificent results of the | Voluntary System will, we suppose, braving the perils of a crowded and | prudently ignore the illuminating case|crepuscular thoroughfare. Do our | of Lieut. John Smith. There are, how-| noisy compulsionists imagine ... . ever, two aspects of it to which we feel (c) By “ Dagonet,” in The Referee. justified in directing the notice of our 2 a’ ‘ | readers. First, the accident itself, with Who drives our taxicabs ? what might easily have been the loss or ° 6 = = serious injury of a valuable officer, is| Do our cotton-gloved officials really directly attributable to the absurd and| believe that the accident by which panicky over-darkening of our streets. | Lieut. Smith (a name with a fine record Again and again we have pointed out|for Englishmen) so nearly escaped that the Germans have no really | annihilation was the genuine result of dangerous Zeppelins capable of intlict- | carelessness? If so, there are one or ing serious damage, and indeed that} two questions that I should like to put so many more have already been des-|to them. First, what firm are the troyed than could ever have been built | registered owners of the cab in ques- that the number now available must|tion ? Two, What proportion of the be represented by a substantial minus. | directors of the firm are of German This consideration, however, does noth-! origin ? I can assure Refereaders that ing to lessen the magnificent heroism displayed by this voluntary officer in there are still one or two mysterious doings in this old city of ours that might startle an investigator. (d) By the War Telegrams on promi- nent Club notice-board. B.F. 63, A. 47. Reported Lieutenant |Smith terrific officer when crossing |Strand sunk casualties unknown Mr. Balfour continuing for terrific read territorial Allies prospects brighter taxicab undamaged showery. ‘* All the food is divided into rations and delivered by women, fresh and good, in London, the suburbs and the outlying country districts.”— Scotch Paper. Clearly these ladies, as the poet (very nearly) said, are not creatures far too fresh and good for human nature's daily food.

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194 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON . CHARIVARI [SepremBer 1, 1915. THE AMATEUR SHEPHERD. Ir is a long climb from Dawlish to Haldon. I appreciated this on two separate occasions, once horse-driven 'and again with the aid of petrol. In both instances I was pointedly assured | by my family that it would be far better | for my health and figure if I walked | the distance. As far as I remember, I made no audible answer, but I may have lifted my chin to stretch the skin under it and sub-consciously squared my shoulders. However, the day came when, desti- tute of other ideas, I whimsically resolved to try the ancient pastime of pedestrianism, and a certain tightening of the waistcoat in the first few strides I said that I knew no Shaw as I was just up from London. I Had once known a Shaw but he was not a farmer. He wasn’t even an Englishman, thank goodness. Then the shepherd said that the man Shaw’s farm might be up a certain slope, and. he swept his hand over a fence by the wayside. I nodded, and he said, “ Do ee mind sheep while us go an’ see.” I said I’d keep an eye on them, and he was off in a twinkling for all his lame leg. I sat on a fence and watched the sheep. It was a_ beautiful summer afternoon. The flies were making the best of the brief spell of fair weather. The sheep browsed on the banks of the lane, and [I lit a cigar. he saw me. At the moment I was lighting a fresh cigar. He abused me. He called me every- thing that I would have liked him to call the real shepherd. And as a final blow he said I ought to be in khaki. I felt for him, but it was so difficult to explain. I even offered him a quotation from “The Pickwick Papers” about shep- herds. I said that I was “a wictim o’ gammon.” He went away very scarlet, and the flies simply surged after him. By now I had had enough. Fifty minutes was a fair afternoon’s work for one’s first try at shepherding. Another day, perhaps, a little longer. I decided to go back home. The sheep near me moved. They moved on. down the lane. I stopped had the effect of turning my steps in the direction of the Dawlish-Haldon slope. | ‘Things went splendidly | for fully twenty minutes.| 94 There came that novel|_§& | and astounding satisfac- | ; tion which steeps the soul when one realises that one is actually propelling one- self for no other purpose than the mere pleasure of propulsion. Vaguely enough, it is ‘true, I felt athletic. I flipped away the flies with my hand- kerchief as if I’d been doing that sort of thing all my life. Then I met the shepherd. He drove a score of red sheep, and he had red eyes behind black-rimmed spec- tacles. He was young and old and sprightly andlame. ee 4 ‘ ; i > “Yf, fy. Lt le ELEM A avn Z / cons ‘©? DIDN’T OUGHT TO BE "LOWED TO SKETCH THE OLD CASTLE!’’ ‘©Wuy not? ’E AIN’T GOT IT NOTHIN’ LIKE!” and scratched my head. Then the sheep behind me ran up and passed me, so that I had all the sheep now in front of me. I moved quietly on so that they might not hear my footsteps. Unfortun- jately I trod on an acorn which crackled, and the sheep heard. So the sheep still went on in front of me. I stopped, hoping they == | wouldn't notice [ was not following. They went on, and I thought I was free till suddenly one old fool at the head of the division turned his head and de- tected me. Then they all stopped and looked back at me, with faces much more like sheep than any sheep I’ve ever seen. He carried his coat over his left arm, and when the sheep hopped up the banks of the lane he swore fruitfully. He looked at me as if he had a griev- ance, Was there a farm way back that I had passed? I said “No.” Then I said “Perhaps yes.” He looked at me very oddly. But was I to blame? I am from the city. How does one know a farm? Let the townsman reflect on this matter carefully before blaming me. I had passed houses, and lightly enough I regarded them as mere dwelling places. It is just possible, I reflected after my first negative to the shepherd, that some of those houses have in hiding behind them that which would entitle them to the appellation of farm. I told all this to the shepherd. He then said that he had to drive the sheep to a farm whose owner’s name was Shaw, or so it sounded to my ears. Half an hour passed. The sheep had straggled a bit, but I could see them all. Of course I might lose one, but then I could easily get another from one of the fields round about. Devon- shire is simply drenched in sheep. Hence, thought I, the dearness of mutton. So many sheep have to be kept alive to keep Devonshire properly smeared with them. After three-quarters of an hour I looked over my shoulder for the shep- herd. He was not in sight, nor could I see signs of any building. I began to have the feeling that comes when you wake up after a sleep in the train and are uncertain as to which side of your destination the train has reached. The sheep were certainly very scattered. Now came a motor car. The driver was very skilful. He threaded his way in and out of the sheep just as if he were playing a game of—a game where you have to thread in and out. Then I was helpless. I could not go the other way as it was steep and precisely the wrong direction. At last I thought I would run past the flock. I sauntered rather rapidly down on them, and eventually got nearly along- side. Then I took to my heels and ran as I had never run before. The sheep thundered along by my side. Do all 1 could I never got ahead. The stamina of the beasts was simply appalling. I must have run for quite three minutes, which seemed like three hours, before realising that I was beaten. I was a shepherd. Fate had willed it. A shepherd I must be and affect to be contented with my lot. On we went. I cooled down, and the stroll became pleasant enough, though passers-by regarded me sus- piciously as if 1 were a sheep-stealer. (Odd reflection! There are such things as sheep-stealers !)

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SEPTEMBER 1, 1915.) PUNCH, OR 195 — — OG a ae pr eae ae ete “* Now, THEN, NONE OF YER CINEMA ACTING ’ERE. AND THE KID’S ONLY JUST FINISHED THE CASTLE TOO ees. ——— ? At last we came, as I knew all along | E : al we should, to a point where the road | A CANADIAN TO HIS PARENTS. forked. I didn’t care which way the| Morner and Dad, I understand sheep went. I would take the road} At last why you’ve for ever been they left. Both routes would take me Telling me how that way-off land home. | Of yours was Home; for since I’ve The sheep bore to the left. I shoo-ed seen them on. I got them well on the way.|The place that up to now was just a In the distance before them I saw a| name motor-car coming. I turned stealthily, | I feel the same. nipped round the corner on to the other road, and ran like a hare (middle- | The college green, the village hall, aged). St. Paul’s, The Abbey, how could I When safely away I turned and Spell out your meaning, I whose all looked back. At the end of the road Was peaks that pricked a sun-down where I had left my flock was a| sky stationary motor-car, with its occu- |! And endless prairie lands that stretched pants staring after me. The car was! below wheel-deep in sheep. Their pathless snow ? At dinner that night I asked for boiled mutton—doiled mutton—mutton | —hung, drawn, quartered—and boiled ! | But now I’ve trodden magic stairs Age-rounded in a Norman fane, Beat time to bells that trembled prayers ‘ Down spangly banks of country lane, The Odour of Sanctity. | Throbbed with the universal heart that PP ¢ eye York — ’ publishes a — | beats Stalment of secre yerman correspondence sty = showing ‘a degree of ppeesien on the nent of In London streets. the emissaries from Berlin which smells of heaven.’ ’’—Provincial Paper. Ee! ’d heard of world-old chains that bind So tight that she can scarcely stir, Forgotten History. jo | : : From a Welsh examination paper :— | Till tired Old England drops behind “While the War of American Independence | save — a een ay: Was in progress the Irish Volunteers demanded | Like us out West. I thought it all Home Rule, which was wisely given them by | Lord Northcliffe.’’ | was true Before I knew. But England’s sure what she’s about, And moves along in work and rest Too big and set for brag and shout, And so I never might have guessed All that she means unless I ’d watched her ways These battle-days. And now I’ve seen what makes me proud Our chaps have proved a soldier's right To England; glad that I’m allowed My bit with her in field and fight ; And since I’m come to join them Over There I claim my share. We take from a Sumatra paper a list of some of the words which the Germans, in their patriotic ardour, propose to substitute for the English sporting terms formerly in use :— Golf = Lécherballspiel. Cricket = Dreistibenschlagerspiel. Leg before = Beinenschwindel. Not out = Nuchnichtabgemacht. Wicket = Dreistibeneinrichtung. Halftime = Halbspielwartepause. Hands = Hindefehler. Start = Abganysstelle. Starter = Hauptabgangsstelieaufsichtsvor- steher.” We can now understand the position of the German who says he has no time for sport.

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196 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL (SerTeMBeER 1, 1915, AT THE PLAY. “SHELL Our.” Ir was certainly amusing to find the expansive Mr. DE CourvILLE cabin’d | on the exiguous stage of the Comedy, with no gangways or exits through the roof, no Gargantuan stairways to the empyrean of the flies! And his part- ner, Mr. Wat Pink, doesn’t sound quite the kind of man to help him in this little matter.. So that all through this new Revue you could see the twain And the little theatre helped the effect of the faint prettiness of her voice. Not very seriously a Lancashire Lass or an Eastern Beauty (as the case might be supposed to be), but always quite recognisably Uniry More, which is | more than good enough for most of us. | ble that I feel inclined to protest against it in the interests of public safety and morality; or at least to insist that Sir Epwarp Henry sends all his in- spectors to see it. The Modern Revue Drama was an entirely original conception and so good And then Mr. Frep Emney as man-|as to be worth a little better finish in ageress of the lingerie department of one of our larger stores, conducting the | annual great White Sale in a diverting | either by the other principals or their exhibition of fatuous badinage and sly | reflections, but I mustn’t spoil sport allusion; or as an amiable old lady|by giving away the joke, which is a | detail. burlesque was not too well supported Miss Amy AUGARDE’s excellent submitting with an ill grace to these deplorable limitations. There was never quite room for all the stars of higher magni- tude in one row (and naturally rigid stage-court etiquette pre- vented their being presented in two); while there were always just about four too many girls in all the choruses. ~ Which reminds me to say) right here that I don’t ever re-| member to have seen a more, | uniformly comely parade of | young ladies even in the much- | vaunted beauty choruses of the | many-acred modern Revue pla- teaus. I judge them from their singing voices to be my country- women, and take leave as an Englishman to be more than a little proud. Perhaps we have suffered a little from over-syn- copation, but we ought to ac- knowledge a debt to rag-time and this new race of producers (coupling the name of the Russian Ballet) in that they | have helped to extinguish that simpering, inanimate and rather over-plump double row, swaying vaguely in a detached sort 4 way in the background as a foil to the principals. CoMELLI, whose work I can’t always admire, thinking him just a little fussy and trivial (but that, indeed, was at the Lane, (WAY i Wy) f iy) WE Wy, Yj, 1 i) Mf V My) gy Mm {i ) 1 f ‘*T am sorry, OUT AGAIN TO-MORROW.’’ ‘*] WAS GOING TO TAKE TEA WITH ME AUNT, Mum.”’ Maud (in the secret of the maid’s flirtations). HER GO, MAMMA. SERGEANT.”’ Wf YW =e G Susan. Yt ttittivitiitijbip ph Uf : I’m AFRAID YOU CANNOT GO **Do LET HER AUNT HAS JUST BEEN MADE A | good one. | Two clever little studies by | Miss Loure Tinsuey as a theatre dresser who estimates the suc- cess of a piece according to the | amount and quality of the liquid refreshment she is called on to | furnish and share at a first | night, and as a friend of the | fatuous inebriate personated by | Mr. Emney, deserve mention. | Iam fogey enough to disap- | prove of so fresh and charming |a little person as DEesmonp (or | is it CeEBALLOS?) submitting her- | self to such a graceless and con- 'torted dance. Not that way, 'Desmonp, believe me, lies the | true line of development for | | | your talent. | It was satisfactory to see that _the younger male members of |the cast were friendly neutrals | and that most of the rest of the | work was done by actors well | over the military age. | Quite a good joke was pro- ‘vided by that usually dull dog, | the Lorp CHAMBERLAIN, who | insisted on having a few turns | as a prelude to the Revue, in order that we might be allowed the doubtful pleasure of smok- ing, as if the whole thing were not a barefaced series of turns within turns. I say doubtful because very much depends lar brand of cigar. And I had where he may feel himself able | to take greater liberties), did excellently well with the dresses, and HrerMann DarewskI has made some very passable melodies, of which “I Want Loving” was an easy winner. As to the Revue itself need I say that all hypocritical pretence of co- herence was frankly and wisely aban- doned? I confine myself therefore to impressions and personalities. To begin with, there was Miss Unity More dancing light as thistle-down and as wayward, with a perfectly delightful and apparently unmanu- factured smile, as if this sort of thing was just the very sort of thing above all that she really liked doing. doing nothing more definite than nego- tiating a stile, but doing it in an in- comparable manner and very much at leisure ; or as the waiter a little too much in the manner of ALFRED LESTER, but less tedious; or again in one of | those rather dubious alcoholic studies of which he is the past-mistress, ex- haling a humour perhaps a little more candid than is usually permitted by the West End Managers’ Association. Of the incidents I found the street scene, in which a robbery was brought off under the eyes of the police on an unsuspecting countryman, with the aid of a cinematograph and a ruffian dis- guised as CuarRLIE CHAPLIN, so plausi- [On no luck in the matter. ae The Threat. receiving the news of the sinking of the Arabic, President W1tson is said to have cancelled a golfing engagement. } Defender of my country’s right I am, you know, too proud to fight; But if at my complaints you scoff I may become too proud to golf. Sister Susie’s Latest. ‘‘ The ladies belonging to the —— Parochial Working Party are at present busily engaged in making sandbags for the wounded soldiers.” Local Paper. upon your neighbour’s particu- |

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D. inst and that in- ; an rood h in lent rted heir port is @ by atre suc- the | quid n to | first the 1 by n. sap- ning » (or her- con- vay, the for that Ss of | trals | ‘ the well | pro- | dog, | who | urns | >, in | ywed nok- were urns btful ends | ticu- | had 2. ng of have ght; off ochial gaged liers.” per. | SerremBer 1, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | SR - a a es - - nn a a nn mn | (y wil a= We t Ss Za Ali SES } ul ) — Fm 7 ‘ . = lt = é EZ Frews BavqeR. Mabel (who has been promised sixpence if she will extract a loose tooth). ‘‘ HERE’S THE TOOTH, GRANDFATHER. Bur IF YOU'D RATHER NOT PAY TILL AFTER THE WAR YOU NEEDN’T.”’ |the devoted recipient of at least ten y _— FISHING IN FLANDERS. |rods and as wane varieties of fly. As On our last spell from the trenches; we walked down to the stream that we amused ourselves by fishing a stream|evening I impressed upon him the that ran close to our rest billets. The | necessity of establishing our reputation doctor, whose skill as a fisherman is|in the eyes of the village. apparently as widely known on the! “I doot ma hand wilna cast a fly sae | Tweed as it is with us after dinner in/licht after twa weeks o’ throwing hand- mess, did catch one stickleback. But! grenades, Sir,” he said, “and this wee apart from this success neither the| trickle isna the Tay,” pointing to the glamour of the Entente Cordiale nor stream; but he was soon whipping the the last word in trout rods and flybooks | water in masterly fashion. had any effect on those unsportsman-| After two hours we went home with like fish. Night after night we used to| despair in our hearts to eat fish that watch the village fathers returning in| had been caught by the schoolmaster’s triumph with their simple rods over|boy. Sergeant McCallum had failed. their shoulders, and many a fat half- “It’s a meeserable war. pounder stuck in their pockets winked | at us mockingly. | “Wait till Sergeant McCallum comes,” | The very troot are skulkin’ in dug-oots,” was all he said. Next day we were having guests to | said the Colonel, and in his advice we | dinner,and the Colonel himself implored NL — found consolation. Now Sergeant! the Sergeant to do his best. Off he ; . ainehs de 5 a : rs — McCallum is a Scottish gillie in private! went again, but this time positively re- oD | eS | life and a holy terror to the Huns in| fused to allow any of us to accompany his present capacity. British to the|him. “Na, na, Sir, it’s publeecity that backbone, he views anything of foreign |inteemidates the wee fish,” he said; nature with dour suspicion. It is|and when later he returned with six characteristic of him that to the “ Bon] plump little trout we appreciated his soir, M’sieur”’ of his hostess at bedtime | preference for solitude. Oh the delight he invariably replies with a grave} of being able to reply to our guests that “Guid nicht, M’am.” But so far as| night, “ Yes, our own catch. We get |quite good fun in the local stream.” fishing went he was the regimental | hope, and soon after his arrival he was| For the next three nights Sergeant McCallum came back with a good | haul, while the rest of us never got even a bite, with the exception of the | doctor, who caught another stickleback. | On the fourth evening I determined to find out what was the secret of the master-hand’s success. After half-an- hour’s search up-stream I heard a sad voice coming from the direction of a bush :—“ Ay, it’s a meeserable war, | and that’s ma last pin.” Cautiously I approached, and sud- denly stopped dead. “Sergeant McCal- | lum,” this ?”’ He started up with a guilty look. one hand he held a small pill evidently made from the slab of ration cheese at his side. In the other was a bent pin tied to the end of a piece of string. I gasped, “has it come to Extract from a paper-maker’s letter :— | ‘“‘We are asking Mr. —-—, Corrugated Manager of Messrs. , to give you a call.”’ Just the man to furnish one with a wrinkle or two. ‘‘The French three per cent. bombs are at Fr. 70.’’——Singapore Free Press. But they are still rising and are ex- pected shortly to be in the neighbour- hood of “ Soixante-quinze.” | | In |

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198 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [SepremBer 1, 1915, ELEVEN TO ONE. In this house there is only one bath. There is a state of war in this house. Between these two statements there does not, at first sight, appear to be any close connection, but if you will oblige me by reading on you will find that they are inti- | mately related to one another. Let me explain. The house of which I speak is a seaside lodging-house, an admirably comfortable one run by Mrs. Rivers, the landlady, with the help of one servant. How it is done I don’t know (I suppose, by the way, there is a concealed gnome somewhere who attends to the boots and shoes, but I have never met him in the flesh); at any rate the house is so run, and the whole place is kept as tidy as a banker’s office, and the meals are as punctual as the rates and taxes and much more satisfying. At present the house is filled to its utmost capacity by two parties of lodgers—ourselves (the usual sort of party composed of two parents and four children), and the other party, who preceded us, composed of five grown-ups. That makes eleven in all, and every man-Jack and woman-Jill of them, down to the youngest child, is devoted to that noble British institution, the morning bath. The fact that later on we all bathe in the sea makes no difference. Sea-bathing must not be looked upon as a substitute for anything. Properly considered it is an addition to one’s ordinary life. Here, then, is the situation. Given eleven people, who are all waked 4t 7.30 a.m., who all want to breakfast at 8.30, and who all desire passionately to have a bath before break- fast, how on earth are they to do it when, as I say, there is only one bath in the house, and when I add that it is a fixed bath in a bath-room and that its taps run with an almost maddening slowness ? Now do you begin to under- stand what 1 meant when I said that there is a state of war in this house? Of course you do. The first morning saw us completely defeated. I must own that we had paid no attention to the matter. We had not realised the necessity for guile and stratagem. We just rushed upon our fate blindly, and each of us in turn recoiled from a locked door behind which water was gurgling and someone, not ourselves, was abluting. On that terrible morning only Muriel and Frederick of our party got baths, and they were both twenty minutes late for breakfast. The rest of us did what we could with our basins and sponges in our various bedrooms. As an alter- native to a full-length bath this basin-system cannot be recommended. It combines every sort of inconvenience. Paradoxically enough the water is always insufficient and never fails to overflow on to the floor. Indeed it is a hateful system. On the second morning we planned things out with some care. Alice was told off to be firmly established in the bathroom at 7 o'clock, and thenceforward we had relays, strung out along the passages. On that day we got in four baths, but after that we were hopelessly beaten off by a violent counter-attack of the enemy who had been awaiting a favourable moment in dressing-gowns and slippers. Nina and Frederick were foiled and all their pluck was un- availing. Frederick, indeed, who is eight years old, declared that these skirmishes added an unaccustomed zest to washing. He showed great courage and swiftness in the imminent deadly breach. Since then we have had our good days, when we actually got in five baths, and our bad days, when we were reduced to two, but we have never for a moment abandoned the fight. I myself have a special opponent who lives in the bedroom next to mine. He is an extraordinarily quick mover, but so, I flatter myself, am I. Several times, when I thought I had him at my mercy, he has beaten me into the bathroom by the mere point of his chin. Later in the day we all meet quite unconcernedly. We say to one another, ‘‘ What beautiful weather,” or “The news seems better this morning,” and to all outward appearance we are on perfectly good terms with one another; but in truth we are bitter and determined enemies. How can it be otherwise when there are eleven people for only one bath ? THE PASSING OF THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. (An evening paper assures us that the mother-in-law joke is most certainly dead.) Is she to pass and wake no lamentation, Dirgeless depart to where the old jokes go, Unwept, unhonoured by an ingrate nation ? Nay, it shall not be so. I, even I, will take the lyre and twang it, Sounding a note suggestive of distress, Twining the cypress round my forehead. Hang it! A song-wright can’t do less. A time there was one sought in. vain to dodge her ; She was the red-nosed star’s unfailing wheeze, Better than jeux d’esprit about the lodger Or tales of mobile cheese. So now in every Empire should be sorrow, The sobs of comics mourning for the best Friend that they had, and musing on a morrow Reft of its cosmic jest. Our bardlets too should mourn, bright wits who hymned her, Seeing the humour of their frequent strain Dimmed as a street lamp, ay, and even dimmeder, Clean cut off at the main. Where shall they find her like? What thing, what person Shall serve them as a universal draw, A theme one needs but write a doggerel verse on To gain the loud guffaw ? Theirs is the deeper woe, for with her dying It may be that a sterner age began When folk shall bid them—and it will be trying— To make their verses scan. PUNCH’S WAR CARTOONS. A selection of the most notable of Punch’s War-Cartoons is being published by the Photochrom Co. in association with the Proprietors of Punch. The first twelve of this series have been already issued. They are reproduced from the original plates on tinted Indian paper and mounted on rough-edged white Whatman boards, with the legends and dates inscribed below. These prints, apart from the excel- lence of their artistry, will form a ‘unique historical record of the memorable features and episodes of the Great War. They are published at 2s. 6d. each and can be obtained at any picture shop, or post-free in the United Kingdom from the Publisher, Punch Offices, 10, Bouverie Street, E.C. ‘¢ Among the daft of the 4th Welsh Regiment, most of the Cardigan Company are included.”—Cardigan Advertiser. The fact that these gallant Welshmen were “ mad to go to the Front” might, we think, have been more tactfully indicated.

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nto the one ms are uth be th ? fl. eis vho hat ons tion this rom lon and cel- cord Var. d at rom igan o to ully PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. ag Ee ——4 Dismounted Cavalryman (on way back from trenches, seeing Officer’s servant exercising a horse). ‘*‘ WELL, If ANYTHING GIVES ME SORE FEET IT’S SEEIN’ AN ’IGHLANDER RIDIN’ WHEN I’VE GOT TO PAD THE ’OOF.”’ OUR BOOKING-OFFICE, (By Mr. Punch’s Staff of Learned Clerks.) Mr. Gatswortuy's The Freelands (HEINEMANN) is in the manner, the best of the manner, of The Country House, The Island Pharisee, The Patricians. The Freelands were of a solid persistent stock. Four brothers represent the present generation: Jeliz, the writer, capable, under- standing, critically detached, even a little Galsworthian, with heart emphatically in the right place; widower John, something important, permanent and unimaginative in the Home Office; Stanley, the plough-maker, husband of the aspiring Clara with a coronet in her eye, and her week-end | parties of pretentious bigwigs, interested in a more or less futile and insincere way in “the land”; and that thorn in all their essentially solid sides, Tod, the primitive, with his thatched cottage honeysuckle-twined, his formidable wife Kirsteen of the blue linen gown, the banded hair and the vegetarian diet, and ‘heir wild offspring, Derek and Sheila, hand in glove with Labour and all that. A practised art “ presents ” all these in a comedy (that droops to tragedy) of indictment against some bad foibles of entrenched property and tradition; and in particular that plausibly defensible attitude of those who so clearly know what is good for their people that they don’t hold their hand from coercion of a very effective kind. The tragedy comes by that desperately harassed labourer, Tryst, who fires Sir Gerald Mallory’s ricks and finds a grim release, after three months’ waiting for assizes, from his inevitable sentence. Here Mr. Gatsworty forces us to recognise his impassioned sense of the bitterness of imprisonment and of the disabili- ties of unvocal unimportant folk. Also that desperate hope- lessness of his outlook which makes him turn his labourers against their champions Derek and Sheila as against hereditary enemies. Besides and above all this work of the satirist and social pathologist, the artist GaLswortny has made many admirable portraits; in particular of Felix’s entirely adorable daughter Nedda and dear old Grand- mamma Freeland, a beautiful study which even a regrettable touch of caricature cannot spoil. Irony of the subtlest, sensitive observation and a fine craft of construction and development will captivate any reader who knows what's what. The publisher’s paragraph on the cover of Mr. Perr RipGe’'s latest book, The Kennedy People (METHUEN), says that it “opens with a wedding-day at Highbury New Park, and finishes with a boat train at Waterloo Station.” | Which indeed embodies the best description and criticism of it that could be given. London scenes and types and incidents, strung together by the history of three generations of Kennedys, make up the total. Perhaps in the last phrase I have without intention expressed a suspicion that did occur to me, that the author has at times padded out the volume with material that might have been meant for short story use. But I do not suppose anyone will mind that very much. The Kennedy history is what you might call a circular one; old Mr. K. having built up a prosperous fortune, which Robert, his son, sent to ruin, while in the end George, the grandson, is shown in a fair way to restore the family position. In short, a reverse of the old adage, “Clogs to clogs in three generations ;” naturally also an aspect of the case decidedly more cheerful to read about. I fancy however that it would be spendthrift Robert whom Mr. Pert Ringe himself most enjoyed. There are incidents

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200 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [SerremBerR 1, 1915, | in Robert's career (the fraudulent deputation, for example, | before. which resulted in a subsequent and genuine one being expelled with ignominy) that I could feel sure have been in the author’s note-book awaiting exposure for a con- siderable time. And the history of*his adventures as a dramatist was obviously as great a pleasure to write as to read. And there, with the exception of a little mystery, no very baffling matter, you have the whole. What it lacks in continuity of interest it makes up in detail; those little touches of character and talk in which the author stands alone. What, I wonder, would Mr. Perr Ripce do in a world where there were no commenting domestics? Mrs. Arnoup has chosen for her latest book, Zhe Hn-! almost dull. chanting Distance (Lona), a title so pleasant that one can sensational novels I had read for a very long time. But when I tackled the second half I saw what Minis meant. Thirty thousand words is a conservative estimate of what could be deleted to the great benefit of the story. While Mr. Bripazs is getting his Lyndon out of Princetown Prison and disguising him and taking him to London he whizzes along at a magnificent speed. But when Lyndon meets his old friends he displays a natural but—for the reader—exasperating disposition to put his feet up on the mantelpiece and talk about old times, and things become temporarily slow. They speed up again later, but never with quite the same careless rapture as in the very early chapters; and the last thirty pages of the story are But in the main Boon was perfectly right ; and there is no reason why Mr. Brinaes, if he watches only wonder why it should not have been appropriated | himself carefully and purges his work of unnecessary talk, And the book itself is thoroughly pleasant too,'should not take a place high up in the front rank of though rather formless and overcrowded ; both of which defects however could be excused on the ground of likeness to life. You never saw a novel with so many heroes. There was first of all the Colonial Bishop, with whom Patricia (the heroine) wanted to go away and reform cannibals, Then there was John Raggett, the Bishop’s strong and silent brother, who sent Patricia home, and _ inci- dentally boxed her deserving ears. After that there was Adrian Dadge, an Amateur’s Help, who was introduced to Patricia at a theatrical house-party, and promptly eloped with her. When John turned up in time to frustrate this I began to know where my money would be safest. But I am bound to say that up to the last chapter Patricia's fourth suitor, Lawrence Blagrove, gave me a lot of |! COMING!” Sleepy Husband. “‘ Nonsense!” ME UP WITH SAND.” THE EGOIST. Anxious Wife. “Ou, Henry, I tHink I sex A GERMAN SUBMARINE Anxious Wife. “Ou, Bur I’m suRE IT Is!” Sleepy Husband, “‘ ALL RIGHT, THEN. sensational novelists. He has a great sense of move- ment, and his originality may be gauged by the fact that he has named the vil- lain of his present story George, thereby flying in the face of one of the most rigid rules of modern fiction which enacts that a George can do no wrong, and that his métier in fiction is to be mildly comic. If Mr. BripGes goes on in this radical way we shall find him before long having his murders done by Freddies and his acts of noble self- sacrifice performed by Jas- pers. I suppose Miss F. E. Mitts Youne means her title, The Great Unrest (Lane), to cover both the labour troubles in the South Africa she knows so well and the wayward passions of her hero. You anp TomMMy JUST COVER uncertainty. Blagrove was a dramatist who wanted Patricia to create the chief part in a play that he proposed to write. So, as he had no money and Patricia loved him, John came along once more and very sportingly volunteered to put up the needful for a West End produc- tion. As what follows upon this is not only the best part of the tale, but a quite unconventional and unexpected piece of probability, I will leave you to enjoy it at first hand. It ends a story that is throughout brightly written and makes excellent entertainment. This is what I imagine happened. Mr. Mruus looked at Mr. Boon. They had just finished reading the manuscript of Mr. Victor Bripass’ novel, Mr. Lyndon at Liberty. “ What do ‘you think of it?” said Minus. “It’s jolly good,” said Boon. ‘“ But too long,” said Minis. “I could cut thirty thousand words out of it and it would be an improvement.” But they decided to publish it as it stood, because they remembered that the public likes its novels| | the truth. P. and O. Pars.’’—Glasgow Bulletin. long. I find myself in agreement with both gentlemen. Mr. Lyndon at Liberty is good—in fact, up to half-way I was under the impression that it was one of the best, young Dam (whose father had perversely christened him Draycott Arthur Manners, foreseeing the nickname that would result) splashing in his bath and making discoveries, and the stout youngster taking his lickings from his nice obstinate father, Sir Arthur—I prefer these pictures to those of the adolescent Dam flirting with fishergirls, and the grown-up Socialist journalist in the toils of a shallow fair in queer Johannesburg. But Patricia was a dear all through, from a bad start of snail-killing for pleasure (soon corrected) to a brief union with her boy and an early widow- hood. For there was nothing the matter with the real Dam, who chose to give all that he had, including Patricia, | in the great cause. God rest such souls and comfort their Patricias ! P. and O. From a column headed “ Pertinent and Otherwise ” :— ‘* 4 contemporary heads a paragraph :—‘ The Crown Prince’s Blows. A Message to His Troops. Delete the possessive ‘s’ and you get nearer We fail to find in this jew d’esprit anything either Penin- sular or Oriental. The Crown Prince is not in Gallipoli. I think, on | the whole, I prefer the | - 2s tee A deniiad yr SS

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at it. at le mn ne on he on gs ut ry re it ; 1eS lk, He ve- ity uct vil- ry ost ion rge hat lows. earer nin- li. SerreMBer 8, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 201 CHARIVARIA. THe Hamburger Nachrichten is not at all pleased with the decision to modify the “ blockade,” and declares that the German submarines are “so weighty a factor that we must give them un- restricted freedom of action.” Some of them are so weighty, in fact, that they are now permanently submarine. | + | Owing to its heavy losses among young men, a movement is afoot to rename Germany “The a ', Grand-Father Land.” se oF * } We have to apologise | for any suggestion that | may have appeared in| previous issues to the effect that the Huns are | devoid of humour. The} German Society for the} Protection and Preserva- tion of Monuments has held a meeting in Brussels and expressed its thanks to the German Military Authorities for the care they had taken of the! Monuments in Belgium. | The function ended, we | are told, with an excursion | to Louvain, where the} delegates, no doubt, en- joyed a happy hour in the Library. Berlin is endeavouring to discount the Belgian revelations of German chicanery before the War by declaring that they |maintained a firm stand on the Bug until all danger in that direction was over.” a ~ Mr. AsquirH has lately been away for a brief holiday. Nevertheless it is hardly fair for a daily paper to announce on its posters :-— ‘* ENGLAND'S PREMIER SPORTING DaILy.”’ . - x The Munitions UnpER-SEcRETARY is acquiring a reputation as a humourist. His best joke up to the present is the | =u \Oovr~nw Sen . Gif qe DU a a) PPV UIVV OWEN). sesrd TET!) FOUTS system of letting the fathers volun- teer and allowing the bachelors to stop | at home. x * * “Lord Northcliffe is travelling and | will be beyond reach of correspondence | until the end of next week.” Even he must have an occasional rest from his daily mail. ae * There is no truth in the statement that the only letters permitted to reach his Lordship will be from Lord Hueu gone — CrciL. - “Yarns for Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Comforts are |now greatly needed,” says an advertisement. We congratulate The Times on its prompt response to this appeal. Its Broad- 'sheets for the Trenches will be just the thing. A voluntary munitions- worker writes to say that the enervating effect of ‘the factories has been ‘much exaggerated, and that “to one accustomed | \to the atmosphere of the Law Courts, a Sunday at this arsenal is like a day }in the country.” Rather, | perhaps, a day at the sea- | side—picking up shells. | * A member of the Library Association complains that inferior paper is now being used for books, so ithat they only last a have an obviously tainted | sixth of the time they did origin: they were pub- lished in a Grey Book. The General command- ing the Dresden military area has forbidden an ex- BY OUR OVER- THE SCULPTOR MIGHT Famous LAOCOON IN THE VATICAN GALLERY. A VOLUNTEER RESERVE FAMILY PUTTING ON PUTTEES. SUGGESTED GROUP IN COMMEMORATION OF THE GREAT SACRIFICES MADE AGE CITIZENS. PERMIT HIMSELF TO BE INSPIRED BY THE jthirty years ago, and urges the ~fixing of a standard quality. But 7 r worry ? | why worry ? | ‘*Sare—Half Prices for 15 hibition of ladies’ dresses, because the costumiers were unable | to prove that their models had origin- ated in Germany or Austro-Hungary. “ Frightfulness ”’ must be maintained. * ok * | German fashion experts are being urged to revert to narrow skirts, on the ground that their manufacture requires little material and is more consistent with the present position of the Father- land. We note with satisfaction this admission that Germania is already in a “ hobble.” * * SuHreLey’s book on The Minor Horrors declaration that the most important | requirement of the time is “ the suitable | dilution of skilled Jabour.” This has| been very well received in the public- | houses of Glasgow. “Dr. Addison on the Need of Night | Shifts,” runs a headline. But it must | not be inferred that the Munitions Department is asleep. The Evening News informs us that | ‘all unmarried Belgians up to the age | of twenty-five have been called up, and thirty or possibly thirty-five.” ' days. — Lions, Tigers, Pan- thers, Wild Cats, Jackals, Foxes, Wolves, Deers, nicely trained big Tuskers, Lynx, Suck an opportunity may not occur Metal Deficiency Committee for the County, said he had examined the prisoner and had come to the conclusion that he was a moral Our Eastern Allies have evidently | it is proposed to summon to the colours | imbecile within the meaning of the Metal | been studying with advantage Dr.|at a pater period men up to the age of | Deficiency Act.”—Provincial Paper. This is | It almost seems a case for the MinIsTER of War, for we read that “the Russians|a great improvement on the British ' or Munitions. English Hounds, Spaniels, Terriers, Horses, African Monkeys, well talking Singing Birds, English Pigeons, Fowls, Turkeys, Ducks.— | ManaGEer, AntmALs & SERVANTS SUPPLYING Company, Agra.”—Pioneer. What a chance for bargains, from a | tiger to a hen! again. ‘“‘Dr. E. Peachell, Medical Officer to the VOL. CXLIX,. L

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[SepreMBER 8, 1915. to oS bo PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | gramme as a social saviour and the| hour he resolved to bring about the IN THE SUNDAY MANNER. ‘Tejuvenator and renovator of England ; | doom of England. UP TO US. but in my own organ I go farther and _ We learn also that the Karsrr, at one ; 2 Sot .... |indulge in greater detail. On the) time thinking of marrying his only By Mr. Avstinson BreLLowmey. | burning question, for example, of com- | daughter, now the Duchess of Bruns- Mr. Bellowmey is facile princeps| pulsory smoking for men I say nothing | wick, to the EMpEror MENELIK, with a | THOUGHT WHAT WOMEN MEAN ? | yesterday one of the most brilliant of | Huns cAsT UPON HIM; and when I say | the Huns I mean equally the ’uns, for among our more cultured and clarion- | here. voiced publicists. Having taken all) Why I am silent. foreknowledge for his province, he|I would not hamper the Government. ranges like a young bull to the elec-|I have not always shown that reluc- trification of England. In him litera- tance, but just now—and here—it is ex- ture and acuteness are reconciled. | pedient. Moreover, I am not, any more Rarely have such trumpet-calls blared | than any other of my fellow-citizens, forth as since Mr. Bellowmey sensed | profit in strepitation. In particular is he wise upon women and strategy. The War has prceduced no such miracle as his rise to authority. Next week we shall publish another terrific lay-sermon from his banjo, and, in fact, every Sunday until we think he is played out. what quaint silence. Those who say it is a tobacco war have some justification ; those who say that the Kaiser will, before he has done, see two weeds glow where only one glowed before, have reason on their side; but none the less I hold my peace. And every man I beseech to do likewise. Wr MUST NOT EMBARRASS THE GOVERNMENT. Now then, Mr. Kaiser, cast your lamps over this. When I say “up to us” what do I mean? I mean that it is for God’s own country, Great Britain, bless its heart ! —England the fair and free, bonnie Scotland, Erin brave and impulsive, gallant little Wales and the noble Colonies—to carry this thing through. EverY MAN OF BRITISH HERITAGE HAS THE BURDEN OF DEFEATING THE The Future. As to when the War will be over, I prefer to say nothing. I may know and I may not. But take it from me that no good is to be gained by letting out the secret yet. It Is uP TO Us TO ACT, NOT TO CONSULT SOOTHSAYERS. A MAGNIFICENT MENIAL. THANKS to the courtesy of the pub- lishers, Messrs. Pryor and Pepys, we have been favoured with an early copy of the remarkable Reminiscences of an Imperial Footman, briefly alluded to in our last issue. Though the book hardly fulfils our most sanguinary expectations, it is full of intimate touches and is written throughout with the sobriety and modesty that one might expect of a highly trained and discreet domestic. Moreover, many notables, royal, famous and notorious, pass through its pages, for our footman saw the very highest in Germany, Austria, and Italy. The style, too, is remarkably distinguished. In fact, the author might not be un- fairly described as a Servants’ Hall Caine. A flood of light is thrown on the origin of the KatsEr’s implacable hostility towards England by the fol- lowing thrilling anecdote. It appears that when the Kaiser was staying at Sandringham the “Song to Aegir,” which he composed, was performed by the Kina’s band in honour of the Imperial guest. At its conclusion the Kaiser asked his uncle what he thought of it, and Kina Epwarp genially replied “ Well, it may be a who is so base and petty to-day as to trouble about the aspirate? To-day we are all brothers, whether we drop our h’s or pronounce them, and all bound together in a sacred compact to rid the world of the tyrant. It is up to us to do it. Woman’s Part. And when I say us I mean not only men but women. What should we do without women? Have you EVER Only living women said to me, ‘‘ The women are in trousers to-day; the men are candidates for petticoats.” How pro- found, how witty! When we have sent millions of men to the War and many are dead, how clever that was! But women must be taken seriously. With- out women there can be no soldiers, for every soldier (amazing thought !) has to have a mother. Let us then be kind to women, for women are the mothers of our brave boys in khaki. The Fourth Estate. As for our Press, what is one to say? Oh, my brethren, do not be misled by our Press. Half of it is right and half wrong, and I implore you to cleave to the right half. Here, in this Sunday paper, I can but sketch my real pro- I prefer EKpwarp Encar’s “ Land of Hope and Glory,” The Kaiser turned pale with indgnation, and from that seized of the facts. Hence my some- | | view to consolidating his interests in | Central Africa, dispatched his brother |PrincE Henry to conduct the ne- /cessary matrimonial negotiations. The | KaIser, it appears, had assumed that the Emperor MENELIK, who was | already married, would divorce his wife in view of the enhanced prestige to be | gained from an alliance with the House |of Hohenzollern. In this however he was rudely disappointed, for as soon as the Emperor MENELIK realised what was expected of him he broke out into a torrent of Abyssinian invective lasting several hours, and then took to his bed, remaining there until the discomfited emissary had left his dominions. We have heard much since the War began of Warsaw, and this fact lends poignant interest to a vivid little vignette of the colour of the landscape in Poland :— « Where not touched with the glorious tinting of Autumn or wilting ‘neath the blaze of the Summer sun, the vegetation is green, though not per- haps so verdant as that of the Emerald Isle.” Perhaps one of the best stories in lighter vein is the following diverting anecdote of a Bavarian Count who came to Potsdam on a secret mission :— “The Count, who was a homely person, was invited to dine with the Emperor, and during the course of the banquet managed to upset a golden salt-cellar. With the utmost prompti- tude he seized a decanter of claret and emptied it over the spilt condiment. I have never seen the KatsEr laugh so heartily as he did at this incident.” Quite an enthralling book, it may be readily understood, are these Remunis- cences of an Imperial Footman, and: it is impossible to doubt their veracity. Extracted from a_ soldier's letter, written from ‘Somewhere in France” :— “The Germans have got a bit of brag on |here. The lines are 600 yds. apart, and right | in the ‘no man’s land’ they have planted a | German Merchant Service Flag, to flaunt in | our faces; and everybody naturally wants to go out to get it.’’ | Naturally, indeed ; for the flag in | quite extinct in maribus. |on Herr von Jagow, and left his luncheon to had nothing to say.’’—German Wireless. But as they were talking Arabic the | reporter may not have understood. question is a rara avis in terris, and | ‘*Mr. Gerard received an invitation to call very fine piece of music, but personally | respond. They conferred for half an hour but |

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De the one | nly INS- th a ; in cher ne- The shat | was vife be use he 1 as hat to a ing yed, ited Var nds ttle ape ous ath the per- rald ; in ing vho i ely the | the | den pti- and ent. 1 SO , be | nis- 1 it ys ter, x on ight | ed a it in is to | in | and call n to ‘but | the I re 4 3.°3 Mee ert Mtoe fe HH ‘ ro. LP ao aera OOP Po -—— eee OPPO MO me a (422 w, HAIL, COLUMBA! PRESIDENT WILSON (to American Eagle). “GEE! WHAT A DOVE I’VE MADE OF YOU!”

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P SepTeMBeER 8, 1915.] HOMAGE TO HAYLING. HAVE you ever been to Hayling? As a health-resort it’s nailing, If your constitution ’s failing Or your nerve is gone or quailing. I was rather down and ailing, Sick of town and Daily Mailing, And my ruddy cheeks were paling When I flew for rest to Hayling. Many are its charms, regaling Ev’ry sense with joy unfailing. There in sandships you go sailing ; Bath Club tricks ycu see at Hayling. Flowers their sweetest scents ex- haling, Shooting stars their splendour trailing, Moonlight, magic realms unveilin Make a Paradise of Hayling. o >? There are neither trout nor grayling, Nor romantic heights for scaling; | But you ’ll find the golfer flailing Balls in bunkers down at Hayling. But, alas! my peace assailing, Comes a telegram, entailing My departure, deeply wailing, UNCH, From the happy Isle of Hayling. A SIDELIGHT ON HISTORY. | Durina@ recent excavations on the site of the old Admiralty Office at'| Cadiz, writes a correspondent in Spain, a remarkable document has been un- earthed, which throws interesting light on a great historical event, and proves conclusively that the present war is | not the first which has been won by both sides. The parchment has been examined by a committee of experts, who have pronounced it to be unques- | tionably the Spanish Official account | of the Armada’s expedition against | England. The following is a literal translation :— “On the 29th July, 1588, the Invine- ible Armada arrived off the Lizard, and, proceeding along the littoral in the direction of Plymouth, commenced hostilities against the enemy fleet. The | English caitiffs, as usual, declined a full battle, and contented themselves with skirmishes in our rear. Numerous successes were scored by our mariners in this region, including the sinking of two empty fishing-smacks and a forti- fied bell-buoy. Our fleet then continued its victorious progress up the Channel. The damage done by the enemy’s fire was of no military significance, though | twelve of our galleons were, for strategic | the brilliant idea of a naval raid on the reasons, allowed to sink. On arriving off Calais, the Armada cast anchor, when the treacherous English, contrary to all the established rules of naval warfare, attacked us~ with fire-ships, | OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. ; ii? ft ‘ i 14} +, {} : rf $ ; i Py a - H iF i ieee tae i 34 y 4 i ages i ey | ett | ab ' i tye Gg ‘ PWS Sake Bit cine Ee eqn neem — Aas “4 %, = ut ne | : | ee | | Pel coat Es soy ae 3 hae | if fy + *3 rl oF Gtery Redes Dinnesnenassan a anaes — Friend. ‘‘ Wuy, you STILL ’ERE? I THOUGHT YOU WAS LEAVING.”’ Mary Jane. ‘‘So I was, BUT EVERY TIME I TELL ’ER I’M GOING SHE BUYS ME ANOTHER Wark LoaN.”’ and obtained a trifling minor success ;| mirals then proceeded down the West but off Gravelines we gained a great| coast of Scotland and headed for Spain victory in which twenty-two more of| to carry home the tidings of their great | our galleons were, in accordance with | achievements. The elements continued our strategy, abandoned. The English|to hamper our operations, though |brilliant assaults were conducted by now declined battle once more, and the | statement of Admiral Drake that this! our landing parties against the kernes of Ireland. Of the 130 vessels which was done for want of food and powder, ls is a barefaced falsehood. The Duke of | set sail from Cadiz, only fifty, it is true, arrived safely back in that port, but Meprna Sipont now relinquished his it is generally felt that the expedition plan of picking up ParMa’s army group d. from the Low Countries and conceived | has, on the whole, been a magnificent success, and all the 10,000 of our Orkney Islands, admittedly England’s | mariners who returned from the hum- weakest spot, but owing to the incle-|bling of England have been decorated mency of the weather this daring pro-|by His Most Christian Masesty with | ject was not so successful as it otherwise | tin crosses of the ancient order of the must have been. Our conquering ad-! Santissima Trinidad.”

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| us and settled himself | | hand and said, “ Ex- | | when Philip puta chest- 206 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [SEPTEMBER 8, 1915, THE GREAT GAME. THE back pew was a high square one just by the stove that warmed the church. The Uncle always sat in the front seat because it had arms to hold him up. The Aunt always had a head- ache on Sunday morning unless there were visitors. The family was always very nice about Aunt’s Sunday morning headaches, though she never allowed Uncle to have one, which, Margaret said, showed a selfish disposition. We liked the pew when the prayers were over and Inspector Barton had sung his part in the anthem and slipped out to see there was no drinking in the “ Rising Sun.” Then the Uncle looked round, shook his‘fist at >——— ao for the sermon. It is} queer that the Uncle could hear in his sleep, | because always after | the sermon he turned | to us and said that if | we didn’t behave better | he would have to take | steps. And he“‘always shook the Rector by the cellent—excellent,” so) he must have heard thesermon. Yet Ralph said that he couldn’t hear very well because \\W \ oJ nut on the stove and it went “ pop” very loud, the Uncle jumped in his seat and said, “ Ah- men,” When the sermon be- gan Margaret put her hassock on the seat and sat up to choose her husband for the week. N | She said the wedding game was the | only allowable one in church. When she had chosen her husband she began saying, “I, Margaret, do take thee, James Grimble, to be my lawful wedded husband,” She generally chose Grimble | because he gave her biscuits at his| shop and had a nice polished bald head. | While the Uncle was sleeping and | Margaret marrying we played “ Church Attendance.” It is a moral Sunday game. Each of us had ten families. | We picked families in turn—only the | Rector’s family wasn't allowed because | | they had got to be at church, being in the business, Then you see wé scored | one mark for eyery person in our ten | families who was at church, and the | one whose families got most marks at the end of the year was to get a week's | pocket-money from the other two. Of} course there was trouble about seoring. | Alfred ' Awker (late of Stepney). ‘‘I pon’? ’ARF LIKE THE JoB, Bit! ’’ Bill Simmons (late of Rotherhithe). ‘‘ Norn mre, ALF; SEEMS A BLOOMIN’ SHIME ’ ’ TER KILL IT FOR THE SAKE OF A LITTLE MILK!"’ You see sweethearts and friends visiting | “H’m, is this one of the cards? Ah, were not to count. Once when Ralph |leave the matter in_ my hands. I'll would score “ cousins on a visit,” there | get to the bottom of it.” was such a scrimmage that the Rector| Philip rushed round to the school- looked up from his sermon and the|room, but before he could speak the Uncle almost woke. It was a very | Uncle came in. equal game. Philip’s families weren't} “I want to see how you are getting more than four marks ahead, and if|on with your education,” he said. only influenza got into them we others |All of you write down these words: stood a good chance. '‘family,’ ‘regular,’ ‘attendance,’ Then one Sunday morning Ralph's ‘death.’” Then he picked up the families turned up to the very last baby. | papers and said, “ You all spell out- The next Sunday it was the same.|rageously, but Ralph is the only one Ralph got twenty-two marks ahead,| who spells ‘regular’ ‘regelar.’ What and would scheme in church how he|do you mean, Sir, by sending threaten- would spend our money; which was | ing letters to my tenants?” breaking the Sabbath. Ralph didn’t like to say, so Margaret At- last we found out his wicked! spoke up for him and said it was just a tthe, , ae Sunday game the boys played in church. Then the Uncle gave a great laugh, which he said was one of horror, and said that, bad as it was that such games should be played in a sacred edifice, it was even | worse that one of his ‘nephews should take an unsporting advan- | tage over his brothers. |So Ralph was sen- 'tenced to go round to ‘all his families and apologise, and explain ‘that they would not be ‘murdered if they stayed - _ | away from church. = Then the Uncle said | to the Aunt at lunch ‘that it was preposter- lous that Miss Smith ishould go home for | Sundays—the very day ‘the family needed a |governess’s control. Fidentia ‘e ie ____| But the Aunt said that secret. Philip was waiting outside the|if he couldn’t keep an eye on three library to slip in and take the papers| boys in church it showed lament- with the war-pictures directly the able weakness of character. So the Uncle had gone to sleep, when the| Uncle had to keep awake every Sunday NEW TO THE LAND. Rector came, and Philip listened, not | and the great game was never finished. | dishonourably, but because he wanted | to know if chestnuts had been found | behind the church stove. The Rector said, “ Absurd as it may | seem, my parishioners think that I am | he met in London a few days ago.” sending them postcards threatening Sheffield Daily Independent. them with death, to ensure their regu- The MINISTER OF Monlirtions is not the lar attendance at church.” ‘only man who regards the War as a “ Dear me,” grunted the Uncle, “ it’s | stiff proposition. a case for the police. You don’t think on eo. the curate? Some of these young men “Two captains, eight lieutenants, nice are far too zealous,” | second-licutenants and two sergeant-majors “Oh, no, no. He's a well-meaning | receive the Military Cross.”’ fi young man. Besides, these cards came | Glasgow Evening Times. hefore days when I was officiating.| Why this discrimination? We feel Now it stands to reason——” sure that the captains, first lieutenants, “Yes, yes, I see,” said the Unele. and the sergeant-majors were nice too. ‘¢«This war must be rigid with machinery, not men,’ was one of the remarks made by Mr. Lloyd George to Senator Humbert, whom

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we Ja id ry, by om t. the s a nice yjors S. feel nts, too.

SepTeMBER 8, 1915.] PUNCH, OR

‘‘Yes, SiR, THERE’S TWO OF MY SONS IN THE NAVY, AN’ AN’ MY YOUNGEST ’ERE, ’E’S SWATTIN’ EVERY FLY 'E CAN SET "IS EYES ON.” Dir 2 YY (= 3 :

jo a ‘

THERE'S TWO AT THE FRONT, AN’ THERE'S JOHNNY IN THE Scouts,

TO JAMES (On his appointment to the Staff). To hear that you are asked to stoop To join that great malignant group ; I hasten to condole. Not for your frame I fear—ah, no, For, far as creature comforts go, They lack but little here below : I shudder for your soul. I know that when the seas are rude And people’s parcels long delayed, No hint of trouble shall intrude Where your select and frequent food Is delicately laid ;

| That, though the sweet Imbrosial hens | | | Abruptly perish in their pens, Your eggs will not, like other men’s, Be absent from parade. I know the neighbourhood is rich In sandbagged shelters, cutely packed, Yet if there be some special niche, The perfect kind of cranny which We hitherto have lacked, Where man may shun the shells of man | (And also Asiatic Anne), ‘Twill be but part of some huge plan For keeping you intact. I fear for you no foeman’s knife, But fear to see on that fresh face

It does not make me laugh and whoop (Though certainly the choice 7s droll) The lofty look of one whose life Is quite remote from earthly strife (Though that will be the case) ; I dread the perilous abyss Of being sui generis, And looking with some prejudice On any other race. I fear, yet hope, that after all, | If e’er you tread, supremely vast, | The lowly drain wherein we crawl, | You'll have the kindness to reeall Some fragment of the past ; For one wee while confess the sin | Of merely earthly origin, | And not refuse a genial grin For fear of losing caste.

THE PROFESSIONAL, We are all death on flies in our family. We grudge no effort, and none of us (except father) grudges a little jcasual damage to the furniture; but! when it comes to results there is no competing with Richard. He is a born swatter. His attitude is that of a professional towards clumsy ama- | teurs. We others swat, in our blun- dering fashion, with napkins, knives, handkerchiefs, forks, table-cloths and so forth, but Richard swats with his head. I do not mean that he kills flies by butting at them like a goat ; I merely mean that he uses his brains. He lays his plans and watches us with a tolerant boredom while we flick and thump and prod, and im due time very coolly and dispassionately he swats his fly. I fancy that Richard’s success is chiefly due to his masterly air of de- tachment. The fly, accustomed to the clamour of our furious onslaughts, soon comes to associate danger with noise and fuss. It thinks that when quiet is | restored the enemy has accepted defeat, | jand it does a triumphant buzz round {the ceiling. And then Richard gets it. |He never moves from his corner, but |his immobility makes him all the more |deadly. His method is to spin a web and sit in the middle of it. It sounds | ridiculously simple, but then everything is simple when you know how to do it. And Richard, as I have already men- tioned, is a professional. |

**The Melbourne Steamship Co.’s steamer | Melbourne is due here to-day, with TOUO cases of gunpowder and to-morrow."’ | ‘* Daily Telegraph,’’ Sydney, N.S.W. This might be called taking time by the forehold. “The meeting of the citizens of Vernon records its inflexible determination to continue to a victorious end the struggle im main- tenance of the ideals of liberty and justice, which are the common and sacred curse of the Allies.”’— Verron News (B.C.) Well, that’s what the Germans think them, no doubt.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL [Serrauecs € 8, 1915, A LONELY SUBALTERN. I apsusTED my puttee carefully, slid back into my chair, | and forced a smile. mirror and ceased smiling. “JT don’t understand it,” I said. ‘“ Before the War, Daphne, just before, you almost led me to believe I had a chance. Twice I was on the verge of proposing.” Daphne looked interested. ‘When was that?” she asked, ; “At the Somers’ dance. The first time my nerve, gave way. The second time something stuck in my throat.” “Oh, was it at supper?” “ Not at all,” I replied shortly. stuck in my throat.” Daphne played with a cushion. Dick.” “That may be,” in no way eases the situation. looked myself up and down. bulky,” I sighed. “It isn’t that.” “Tt can’t be money,” I said. to be believed, I saved £4 9s. 3d. last month.” Daphne shook her head. ‘It isn’t money.” I became cynical. ‘Perhaps if I were home wounded, | instead of having been stuck i in England all along, it “ Dick, don’t be mean.’ “Daphne,” J said, “I am disappointed in you. At much personal discomfort I have proposed, and your refusal is unaccompanied by any reason.” I rose and stood erect. “To-night Lonely Subaltern asks young lady to corre- spond.” “ Oh, Dick, not really.” I waited for her to finish laughing. “Buy to-morrow’s Times,” I replied. Donning my cap I took a look round the room, obviously a last long look, turned to the right, saluted smartly, paused, then hurried out. From Daphne’s chair came sounds of either tears or laughter. “ It was the words that “I’m awfully sorry, I replied coldly. Daphne, what is it?” I “Of course I’m a little For a wok: 1 heaguictind, aad it was — as a was on the point of writing Daphne a firm note that her letter came. “ Dear Dick,” she wrote, ‘“ when can you come to tea?” I replied in person. I greeted her courteously but doubt- fully, leaving it to her to explain the situation. * Dick,’ advertisement ? ” “ Advertisement ? What—oh—er—yes, of course. I haven’t had ‘ many.’” “ You haven’t had any from a girl called Dora?” “ No, not exactly.” “ Not exactly ?” “No; you see I didn’t advertise after all.” “ Didn't advertise ?” Daphne went very white, then red, and then white. “Oh, heavens,” she whispered. I got up quickly. ‘ Daphne,” Lean on me.” “T’m all right, thanks, really have done it.” “How ?” “Don’t you see? I answered your advertisement in | The Times—Lonely Subaltern.” “ But I sent in no advertisement.” “ Yes, but you told me you were going to.” “Well, I didn’t do it.” “ Then somebody else did.” No, ” she said faintly. ‘ But, Dick, I Then I caught sight of myself in a! “That may be, but it | “Tf my bank pass book is | she said, ‘have you had many replies to your | I said, ‘“‘ you are not well. - | | “And you answered it? " | Daphne nodded. “Thinking it was my advertisement ?” She nodded again. . “Daphne,” I said, “this is a serious business—most serious. Has there been much correspondence ? ” She gave a little laugh. | “Has there been much correspondence?” I repeated. “ Not very much from him,” she said. “I’ve written a lot. He only sent two short notes typewritten, the last one saying he was soon off to the Front. Er—that’s why | I asked you to tea.” Ts Daphne,” I inquired, “ what did you write?” | Daphne hesitated. ‘Oh, a lot. You see I thought it | was you, Dick,” she said. ‘ You signed yourself, ‘ Lonely | Subaltern.’” “You must please leave me out of this,” “ Well, what am I to do about it?” Then, ‘I'll do it,” | I replied coldly. | There was a silence. I said. “Do what?” | ‘Get you out of this mess,” I replied. ‘There is only one explanation that can excuse you in this man’s eyes for your apparent trifling with his affections. It is quite /normal, Daphne, for a girl to keep two men in suspense |while she’s making up her mind. Very well, I am one; | Lonely Subaltern is the other; and I am going to make \it easy for you to explain why he may regard himself as no longer in suspense. I am going to propose.” “Oh, Dick.” “It’s your only chance.” There was an awkward pause in the dialogue, in which I swallowed convulsively. “Daphne,” I began. ‘“ Daphne,” I continued. ‘“ Daphne,” I finished rather lamely. I have made better proposals of course, but, considering the circumstances, I thought I did well. Anyhow the result was most encouraging. MUSCLES AND SINEWS OF WAR. (Suggested by a study of the more intimate advertising efforts of the Fighting and Financial Departments.) Tuat the draught which the Katser is lusting to lap May be dashed from his confident lip, The youth of our land must get into the scrap While the others get on to the scrip. Nibbling, Indeed. ‘““A communiqué reports important progress north of Arras. We assaulted and captured two strongly fortified works and a large trench along a front of one millimetre, near Souchez.’ ‘* Weekly Courier’ (Tasmania). An Indian paper reports the Chief Officer of the Women Police Patrols as saying :— | ** Personally I wept through the training of jiu-jitsu, but we do not insist upon it for every officer.’ 'If the process is so pees this is ious as well. ‘* Wanted, about Sept. Ist, by officer’s (regular) wife, either small furnished House or nice Rooms.’’—Bournemouth Daily Echo. A little cryptic, perhaps; but we gather in time that the advertiser’s husband is not a Territorial. ‘Orders were received yesterday for the 14th Gloucesters (the West of England Bantams), to leave Bristol for camp, on Saturday next. | «*The number of e2gs received at the Kingswood and Hanham Depot for the week ended August 21, was 834.’’— Western Daily Press. With average luck that should make a fine nucleus for the new battalion.

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aly yes ‘ite nse uke | as | ich e,”” ing | the orts We | large a). men | o not small | the | West xt. Depot r the SepTEMBER 8, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 209 THE HIGH-WATER MARK. A sMALL difficulty of some military h importance has arisen at “ Sunnyside,” : ae and we don’t quite know what ought Po Sa to be done about it. So if anyone who Ahh tL ee aA, reads this has a cousin at the War he Office—well ... Yesterday Bob arrived straight from Armageddon. His two “ Mothers,” so he informs us, are languishing under the eye of a reckless and totally undependable gun- crank—to wit, his Major. Therefore his leave is strictly limited, as at any moment the Major may be tempted to foolhardy experiment, and—well, Bob says three days is all he dare take. This is just to let you know that Bob is a person who is acquainted with crumps, pip-squeaks, and other ' “4 | nerve-racking instruments of war, and | GAM | / Hy} Sy ff by the same token is not a bad judge of the matter. / Y} Ws) The matter—something the matter 4 | MA Y/} ] 1 17 | | ‘Wl , result of overwork—until he came to j Wf) know me better. Then he abandoned 3 Yi ae —began nearly two years ago. I went ; Ye the case, his temper permanently Yf Yf y to a doctor, who thought it was the soured. So I went to another man, who said it was caused through lack of occupation. J abandoned him. After that I went to manifold other doctors, and at last, one bright morning in Welbeck Street, I was told to have my teeth out—all of them. I liked this chap. There was something definite about him. I went home and counted my teeth—twenty-seven of them. The programme read: “One ex- traction weekly.” Twenty-seven ap- pointments with the dentist ! It was an epic of dentistry, slightly | vulgarised by the term “weekly.” I corrected this to “ third Tuesday in the month,” thus transforming the affair into a genuine Odyssey. I then wrote a short note about appointment No. 1. All this was in the beginning. I hardly knew my dentist in those days. Now I call him Charlie. A HANDY MAN. Month after month we (including Marine (somewhat late for parade). ‘‘ Av s1x o’cLocK I WAS A BLOOMIN’ ’OUSEMAID ; the anesthetist) gathered round the} 4y sven o’crock I WAS A BLOOMIN’ VALET; AT EIGHT O'CLOCK I WAS A BLOOMIN’ same old chair and spoke of all our| WAITER; AN’ Now I’m A BLOOMIN’ SOLDIER!" sorrows and our joys. Soon after the | . . . . | | . . . . right upper wisdom disappeared Charlie| was more than flesh could bear, so, | until last night. As I have mentioned, married. Then the anesthetist died, | throwing aside all caution, I made a Bob arrived yesterday, so Joe and I, a poor chap. That was early in 1914,| final sprint and had the insignificant | thoroughly selfish couple, arranged a | | before the second bicuspid vanished. | remainder—three molars—extracted at feast, to which we decided to invite our Then Charlie had twins, and in his| one sitting. m three selves only. Joe wrote the menu excitement nearly took out a couple of| The rest, of course, was simple. It | in Flemish and I shook up the old incisors instead of one. Then.the War| was only a matter of weeks. I merely | broke out... I was still at it. | had to sit still and consider patterns of | and, when the time came, we sat down Then the new anesthetist grew a| green-grey material suitable for wear| to pump Bob of all the latest scandals Later on, the sight of my sober| wasn’t my teeth after all. We never | well in Flanders, the answer is in the contemporaries in strange uniforms | talk about teeth now, at least we didn’t | affirmative. Australian port. Nothing was forgotten, | military moustache—tooth-brush brand | in the local brigade of “ Frosty-Tops.” | from G.H.Q. . . . Should any reader | I was still at it. That was some time ago, and—well, it | wish to know whether things are going

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210 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL [SepTEMBER 8, 1915, Genial Clergyman. ‘Bur IF YOU DO NOT ON YOUR SHOULDER ? Urchin. ‘‘*‘ READY FOR ANYFINK,’ Srr.”’ NY NS il i ae NY eH We" Es ty, OUR RESERVES. BELONG TO THE Royat FIELD ARTILLERY, Over’ the barcelonas we raised a tidy little breeze on the subject of courage. Joe and I were all for something be- tween the trenches — ours and the Huns’. Some desperate deed such as we should hear of daily if the Censor were not so antagonistic to person- alities. Bob entirely disagreed. * War,” he maintained, “is a sociable and entertaining form of enervation, punctuated with moments of breathless | exhilaration.”” He admitted that there | were occasions when courage was really necessary, viz. :— (1) Leaving your guns in the hands | of Majors and other senior officers. (2) Undergoing a prolonged exhor- | tation on tactics from the Brigadier. (3) Eating marmalade by moonlight during the wasp season. " | (4) Borrowing another chap’ smouth- | organ—and playing it. “That sort of thing,” he continued, | “does need a bit of pluck, but the | actual fighting ...” He cracked a| nut scornfully. “Well,” I ventured, “ what is your | idea of the best example of physical | courage ?’ He did not hesitate a moment. “ Having tersely. Just that. a tooth out,” s Having a tooth out.” I kona, quite decid: a whet y going to do about it. I did think of the V.C., but Joe has persuaded me to wait until they make a more distinctive award for the highest form of valour. am EXTRAVAGANCE. [According to The Sheffield Daily Tele- graph,” the Education Committee of he City Council decline to study economy. | | With abject apologies to the shade of Minton. Hence, loath’d Economy, Of Thriftiness and Parsimony born, In miser *s den forlorn, Whe dust and dirt enjoy complete autonomy ! But come, thou girl with golden glance, By some men called Extravagance ; Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Irresponsibility, he replied r BOY, WHAT IS THE MEANING OF ‘R.F.A,’ Whom, with saucy ‘face ‘oblique, Lightsome laugh and simple cheek, Thumb extended from her nose, In a light fantastic pose, Every critic pen derides, And the folk who pay, besides. And ever, ‘gainst corroding cares, Lap us in official airs, Married to a haughty speech (As when new-made curates preach) With epithets in winding bout Of clotted nonsense long drawn out, Such.as men may fancy witty (Men at least on our Committee). Then Minas’ self shall rear his head, By kindred taste and fancy led, And dim his eyes with thankful tears, Beholding our resemblant ears! Aid us thus, and we can laugh At The Sheffield Telegraph. ‘** Off’, Orders—Suppose a man took the trouble personally to go to a groecer before 12 or after 2.30 to give an order for spirits to be supplied in the permitted hours, the grocer could not take the order; he can take it only if the person is present on five days a week between the hours of 12 and 2.30.’’ The Glasgow Herald. It seems a long time to wait, especially if one is really thirsty.

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the e 12 o be ocer only veek ally mM Vi ae ay v a. AY, a 4) = 7 Z . a Zo: : . 4 “A oO DAY eee Z USN ae SONG ywrer eat \ ; : B \ \) THE ADVANCE THAT FAILED. THE Kaiser. “HAVE YOU HAD ENOUGH?” SEPTEMBER 8, 1915. a , [sl I ie Le Ws Nees Nh wi 4, y) a J Yy ‘/ a ee | y) > “80)- Wan

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PA - “ho Vi fiw First Nut. ‘‘JOAN IS A DARLING; SHE SAYS SHE LOVES ME.”’ Second Nut. ‘‘ Yrs, SHE TELLS YOU THAT, BUT SHE HUGS ME.”’ |It was flattering, of course, but it had | the potting-shed had incautiously been THE APPRO. WEEK. | its drawbacks. ‘left ajar; but how the faithful animal Tuis is what it said in the advertise-| When one day of the week had gone | traced us to the Rectory and actually ment: ‘On appro., one week willingly.” | we were still undecided. To appro. or | forced an entrance to the drawing-room As Ursula observed, “They simply! not toappro. Both Ursula and I were| was another matter. Somewhere on must be honest to put that in!’”’ So I) already more than a little in love with | the journey he must have encountered answered the advertisement; and on/Toby, but his profound melancholy |a pond of green slime ... The Rector the next day he arrived. | militated undeniably against his success | himself was exceedingly nice about it, He came byrailway delivery, attached |as a boon companion. Neither sticks,|and related several appropriate anec- to the railway deliverer by a rusty chain bones nor the suggestion of mythical | dotes from The Spectator ; but it cannot and a friendship that seemed to have cats could raise him from this apparent | be pretended that Toby added to the been established on the journey from | depression. success of the visit. We returned home the station. Hehadawhitecoat of the! Don’t you suppose he knows any| with the balance of popular opinion in variety known as wire-haired; a tousled | games?” asked Ursula. :| favour of rejection. ~ black-and-tan head, from which looked| One active interest in life he had,| And that night Toby sickened. out the most pathetically melting eyes | and only one; but this was constant. | Whether it was that green slime had ° ° . | oa” ° e 8 ° ° . . imaginable; and his name recalled the! “ Did they say anything about—them | been inimical to his constitution, or finest traditions of literature and ait.! in the letter?” asked Ursula. \for whatever reason, the fact remains It was Toby. “The person who wrote it said that|that our probationer became mani- He appeared to take to the place at|he had never seen him scratch,” 1|festly unwell. His eyes grew dull, his once; and indeed to be almost cheerful, | replied. nose hot, and the little tousled head s0 long as one or other of us was at} ‘“Hemust,” said Ursula thoughtfully, | clearly ached, with such reluctance was hand with a supply of soothing con-| ‘have been a singularly unobservant| it lifted from the human arm (Ursula’s) versation. But you would hardly credit | man.” into which it had trustfully nestled. the extent to which the wistful pathos | Still we hesitated. A point on the} His host and hostess regarded him and in his eyes deepened at the smallest) credit side was that there was no/each other with some anxiety, mingled suggestion of being left alone. His/ difficulty in making him follow; rather | perhaps, on my part, with a little irri- passion for sitting upon laps seemed | the other way. tation. also extraordinary in one whose short | On the fourth afternoon of his visit} ‘That settles it,” I said. ‘ We've life had been spent wholly (so I under- | Ursula and I were both engaged to tea | had the dog four days, and he’s been stood) in the monastic society of a|with the new Rectoress. We thought/one perpetual bother. Directly he’s stable. There was no dislodging him. | to have solved the problem of Toby by | able to travel, he goes.” Did his supporter for the moment rise,| locking him in the potting-shed. The| “ Ye-es,” said Ursula. in two seconds Toby would impose him-| Rectory stands at the remote end of| We made up an emergency bed with self upon the other, give an exploratory | the village, about half a mile goes basket and some rugs before the turn or so, and with a little contented|from our home. One recalled after-| kitchen fire; and Toby lay in it, more sigh compose his countenance to sleep.| wards, of course, that the window of} pathetic than ever, with a last fond fare-

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214 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL [SerremBer 8, 1915. well in his one uncovered eye for the members of the household gathered round. Our official vet. is away Bosche hunting at present, but on the next morning the locum, summoned by telegram, called for our visitor in a} dog-cart, and bore him away wrapped | ina blanket All that day the house seemed oddly quiet—oddly, because Toby had never been what you could call a vehement inmate—and Ursula and I told each other at intervals how fortunate it was that we had dis- 'we are united again! | ment !”’ He was upon Ursula’s knee already, pounding her with tumultuous paws, | licking her face, and then turning to} loll his tongue delightedly at me. “Seems a bit more lively now,” com- mented the locum. “Shall you want a label?” Ursula looked up, and our. eyes met. “No,” I said firmly, with the air of one who clings to an unalterable reso- lution. I replaced the chain in my What a mo-| A SURPRISE VISIT. “You must see the Camp Quarter- master’s store.” The voice was the voice of our Commandant and I was ‘the Camp Quartermaster. The person | addressed I guessed to be the General, who was paying us a surprise visit. In our camps we are prepared for any emergency and, curiously enough, the whole camp had that morning been scrubbed and cleaned in case anything like an unexpected visit from the covered things in time. “I hope,” she added, “that you will write pretty sharply about it to the advertisement people.” Two more days went by, while we heard nothing of the invalid. The week was now in its last hours. Something had to be done, and immediately. In the unlikely event of its being pos- sible, there was Toby's return journey to be arranged. “T shall drive in to- morrow, ’ I said, ‘‘ and settle the matter.’ “I might as well come too,’ said Ursula. So in the morning we started— I with the rusty chain in my coa# pocket. I had already looked up times, and decided that Toby was to eatch the noon express from the junction. ‘“ Of course,” said Ursula timidly, ‘‘one wouldn’t want him to run any risks or be unhappy on the journey.” “ Ursula,” I reproved her, “ I have no intention of-being brutal, but that dog would be unhappy anywhere. He revels in it.” At the locwm’s, however, a sur- prise awaited us. “Of course he’s able to travel,” declared Toby’s medical adviser briskly. ‘ He’s as fit as a fiddle! Only had a touch of liver-chill. ’ iy ms f i] oogyQttegnn gay UU petty OT B( i } lid inh Ba ue « ai ee > ia **Two THIRD-CLASS Bs, ‘* WHY, BACK ’ERE, 0’ COURSE, YE FULE!”’ Se gant Suan TT ‘WHERE TO?’’ General should occur. I glanced round the store to make sure that it was in a suitable condition to be surprised, and I started furi- ously adding up figures in order to be surprised while engaged in my work. “This, General, is the Camp Quartermaster.” I hurriedly put down my pen, rose from my chair and stood on my cap, which I had hastily removed and placed out of sight on the floor so as not to embarrass the General by making him acknowledge a salute in a confined space. For the General I was prepared ; but that Mrs. General and several other ladies would be in attend- ance I had not anticipated. I forthwith removed one foot from my cap and got my face mixed up with the bunch of bananas which I had hung over my table in order to give an artistic Oriental appearance to the store. “ You would hardly think that this gentleman is a distinguished writer,” said our Commandant, meaning me. The look. of frank incredulity on the face of the General, if somewhat offensive, was thoroughly justified, as of course I am not a distinguished writer or anything of the kind, though our Commandant usually hg I’ll go and fetch him for you. I expect,” may have been coming on for some days.” This was eminently satisfactory. There was now no possible reason why Toby should not be returned at once. I produced the rusty chain. Ursula had seated herself and was gazing sternly out of window. And then, before we expected him, Toby entered. There came a sound of scrabbling and snuffling at the door; it opened, and an agitated mass of black, white, and tan dashed into the room, and precipi- tated itself upon us, quivering from head to all four feet in an ecstasy of welcome. ‘Oh, my long-lost master ! Oh, my beloved mistress!” cried Toby, beaming with wags. “ At length | he added over his shoulder, “ it | pocket. “He will not be travelling The question had, -I felt, The to-day.” been taken out of our hands. answer was Appro. Journalistic Candour. “Owing to its private wire, the ‘ Northern Echo’ gives War news three or four hours later than any other paper printed in or circu- lating in the district.” ‘* FLAGS PLAYED INTO PETROGRAD. Four regimental colours from Kovno have arrived at Moscow. They were preceded by a military band and were escorted to the Kremlin.’’—Evening Paper. This stratagem of making Petrograd part of the Kremlin may prove very baffling to the Germans. — introduces us to strangers as per- sons distinguished in something other than soldiering, so as to gloss over any slight error of military etiquette of which we may be guilty. Out of ‘loyalty to our Commandant I en- deavoured to assume what I believed to be the air of a distinguished writer, | though I was considerably handicapped | by still having one foot on my cap and my face in the bunch of bananas. “ How interesting!” murmured the ladies. “ Really!” said the General. “ What do you write?” “Orders for beer mostly,” I muttered. “T shall be very interested to read them,” said the General, who could hardly have caught the full purport of /my reply, as he had meantime wrapt _ 2 ale

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8 i O ct p it ir d at ed rt, nk he SEPTEMBER 8, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 215 ae “hy, ¢ aes Cima. SKETCH OF HOUSE-PARTY (SHOWING LATEST DESIGNS IN AUTUMN SUITINGS) ; BEING THE ONLY WAY A REALLY PATRIOTIC TAILOR DARE ADVERTISE MUFTI AT THE PRESENT TIME. his head in one of those long sticky; “It depends whether you mean| Providentially the General at this things which are known as “fly ceme-| London potatoes or Country potatoes,|moment became involved in another teries ” and are to be found hanging in| Sir, because, of course, you can get | fly cemetery and while we unglued him every self-respecting store. In spite of| potatoes in the country as well as in| I remembered the price of potatoes. the fact that we all worked our hardest,| London. Personally I prefer the Lon-| ‘You know, Sir, of course,” I said, the process of disentangling him took | don variety. This potato (I picked one | ‘that the present price of potatoes in time, as fly cemeteries are elusive things out of the sack) is a Londoner; the | the London market is six shillings per and as soon as we got one end off one country kind are similar in shape but | cwt., and Sixpence more in the country. ear the other end adhered to his other ear. “So this is your store,” said the cover. “‘ What’s the price of potatoes?” I had expected this, and in anticipation of the General’s visit (I mean in view of the possibility of a visit from the General) I had learnt the price of every kind of potato that had ever been raised. The making or marring of a Quartermaster depends on whether or not he can tell the General the price of potatoes. I could have given the right answer at any moment up to the time of his becoming involved with the fly cemetery, but now it had vanished from me like a Zeppelin in the night. “ Potatoes—yes, of course these are potatoes,” I said, and endeavoured to change the conversation by treading on a pot of jam, “and this is jam, as you see by the pips i “What’s the price of potatoes?” rudely interrupted the General, whose temper was slightly ruffled by the number of semi-defunct flies which | of course cleaner. I have had some | country ones here and, as a matter of fact, kept one to show you in case you | we had to cook it. I don’t remember ‘exactly what I paid for this particular potato; you see I’ve had to buy several and they're difficult to identify and the |price varies according to the market value. I’m afraid that in England the |civilian doesn’t pay sufficient attention |to the price of potatoes, but in Ger- 'many things are different ; that’s why |we get so many conflicting reports. |I’ve read as many as two absolutely contradictory accounts of the German potato crop inthe same paper. Accord- ing to one account the last potato in Germany had been destroyed by an air raid; according to the other potatoes were so plentiful that they weren't worth picking and were simply rotting on the trees.” * Potatoes General. That’s the worst of women, they always know about these dontestic on trees!” said Mrs. still adhered to his scalp. things. ‘ | Yes, that is tinned milk; fresh milk is | sold only in the towns. I buy my |bananas’ from Spain, and the curious General’s wife, who was the first to re-|came down, but it died yesterday and | thing is that the men prefer marmalade |to jam. Good-bye, Sir, the flies are troublesome, aren’t they?” The Super-Lunchers. ‘* Visits were paid yesterday by Sir Robert and Lady Baden-Powell to Southport and St. Helen’s. At each place the visitors were ent>rtained at lunch by the Mayor and Mayoress.”’ Morning Paper. A headline from The Gazette :— ‘‘Rats aS GERMAN CARRIERS.”’ Although we have heard much of these animals as conveyers of plague, we can hardly believe this latest accusation. Egyptian ‘* Owing to a plague of wasps in the Sheffield district, farmers have had to stop harvest operations to take wasps wasp nests before they could gather in their wasps.’’ Edinburgh Evening Dispatch. Some of them appear to have strayed into the printing-office.

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216 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. [SepremBer 8, 1915. HOLIDAY’S END. (After six days’ leave in the North.) For three long days of white and gold and blue (And three of driving wind and driven rain), For wonder of the misty dawns that grew Clear, as the dayshine followed in their train,— For all the pleasuring that yours and you Provided, Thomas, take my thanks again. Now—Franceward bound once more—-I look again To where your hill slides into far-off blue Behind me; and the rattle of the train Can’t drown the fairy-songs I hear, that grew Out of the clouds, out of the falling rain— Songs of a land I leave, alas! with you. And for to-morrow? Oh, my Thomas, you Will climb the stony southern beat again To Corriecharbie ; and across the blue The driven birds will come, a straggling train ; And at the clearing where the rowans grew You'll wait for lunch, and sniff the coming rain. . . Or, if the river’s up with last night’s rain, That twenty-pounder ’s lying by for you— The wary one I played and lost again Down at the Falls; and shall you try that ‘“ Blue Doctor” we tied on Sunday—left to train On for‘a little, * till his feathers grew ” ? Ah, when the fishing wind set fair, and grew From south to south-west with a hint of rain, All day we stayed there till our hands were blue And the long line ran out and out again. This—poor Unfit One—this remains to you ; To me, the flying shadow of the train. Yet later, when the southward-swinging train Crosses the Border—where our friendship grew And ripened—and the scent of English rain Blows through an English night, I think of you Cheerfully ; I am Sassenach again As the last stars go down in misty blue. PosTscRIPTUM. But with the blue chill morning, as the train Left wind and rain and hills behind, there grew This hope—that you might ask me there again. UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER. No. XXVI. (From CHartEs Peace, Esq., J.P.) I can see your Majesty’s startled look when your Imperial eye falls upon my signature at the end of this letter. “ How in thunder,” you will say to yourself, “does a man with such a name as that dare to address himself to me at | such a moment as this? Is it done by way of a joke? In that case I would have him know that a German Emperor does not care for jokes, except when he makes them himself ;”’ and you will throw the letter down and trample on it with just that same silly petulance that caused you to make this War and plunge nearly all the world into bloodshed and destruction. However, I may as well ease your mind at once. There’s no joke about my name. It really is “ Peace” and always | writing in order to tease you or pull your leg, or to do any | for one. | I’ve told it my mind is easier. of those things of which a high and mighty Emperor naturally disapproves. Quite the contrary. My object in writing to you is to tell you that I have a certain admira- tion for you. I realise that that is a queer thing for an Englishman to say, and I don’t want you to do what youve so often done before in other matters, namely, to draw erroneous conclusions. So I’ll explain what I mean without any more beating about the bush. Sir, I had a grandfather—indeed, like the rest of us, I had two, but only one of them stamped his name upon the age and is worthy of public remembrance. That one was my paternal grandfather, whose name, like my own, was CHARLES Peace. You’ll ask what he was. Well, I’ll tell you in strict confidence, for, after all, one doesn’t like the frailties of one’s ancestors to become the subject of malevo- lent public gossip. CHARLIE Peace was a burglar and a murderer who flourished some forty years ago. Many men have been burglars and some have been assassins, but my grandfather had special and peculiar merits. He was an amateur of the violin and used to delight his landladies and | their visitors by playing popular selections to them of an evening before going out on business in the neighbourhood. Moreover, he had a marked taste for our dramatic poets, especially for SHAKSPEARE, passages from whose immortal works he used to read in schools by arrangement with their headmasters. His greatest effort in this line, I am told, was the Gravediggers’ scene from Hamlet. Altogether he was a most ingenious and versatile gentleman, devoted to the arts during the time that he spared from the cracking of cribs and the shooting of policemen. | Finally, however, the | law got the better of him. All this was a great blow to my | | poor father, who was doing a geod and honest business of | his own in the North of England, and for a time we had | to forget my grandfather; but as the years passed on and money began to accumulate, we could afford to remember him sometimes; and now, I protest, we ‘re rather proud of him, just as many a Border family used to be proud of an ancestor who had been hanged at Carlisle for sheep-stealing. | So it is possible that some future generation of men may | speak with less. horror than the present of yourself and your deeds. To be sure you have killed millions where grandfather accounted for only one or two. He rifled a few houses ; you have laid whole provinces waste, and being under a solemn pledge to guard a country, you entered it | like a thief in the night, destroyed its inhabitants and trampled its liberties underfoot. Yes, you’re a bigger man | in the realms of crime than ever CHARLES PEACE, my grand- | father, was, but what with your dabblings in music and | painting and drama, you’re not unlike him in the make-up of your character, and if I happened to want a grandfather | of the real C.P. brand, I think I should know where to look That’s what I wanted to tell you, and now that But please do not let this unstudied tribute of admiration go beyond yourself. Yours, CHARLES PEACE. From a tailor’s advertisement :— | ‘* Sole Agents for the Glengorra Antisceptic Sporting Tweeds.”’ Kilkenny Moderator. The cloth for ‘‘ The Cloth.” ‘«The ladies also took an active part in the work, helping to paint | and varnish the widows.’’—Bath Herald. Ho! for the touch of a varnished hand ! ** The humorous bone of his left arm is shattered.’’ East Devon News. has been since I can remember anything, and I’m not| We prefer the simpler name for it.

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he as as ell he TO- | La en ny an | nd | an | od. | ts, tal eir ld, he the + of the my ; of | vad und | ber | 1 of an ing. nay and ere few sing d it | and nan und- and | 2-up ther | look | that this E. tor. paint | ws. | to South Kensington Museum, | | furiously in gusts, SHE made a lovely garden, Its moated waters welled, And all the brakes of Arden Held not the peace it held ; No shadow swept the bower That rose on sea-smoothed sands Save, as she set each flower, The shadow of her hands. Herein were paths enchanted With coloured sand inlaid, And purple knapweed planted In many a pleasant glade ; Parterres with grave devotion She laboured to adorn With cockles from the ocean And ecckles from the corn. Then lo! the crowning wonder, A flower that bent and swung To filmy wings’ faint thunder And legs that clasped and clung ; And proud blue eyes grow wider And cheeks a rosier hue— Real bees at work beside her And make-believe come true ! A MOULD OF FORM. Ir has been said that everybody is afraid of some one. Equally true is it | that everybody envies some one. | RockereuiEr, for example, probably | | envies some poor man with a digestion, | hair on his head and no Standard Oil | troubles—a tramp even. Mr. Carneaig, | it is possible, envies a young Scotch | boy beginning life with half-a-crown in his pocket. And so with the rest of us | —each has his hero. The man who, at the moment, to be most admirable and from myself—and this remoteness is of course of the essence of oavy—is | my acquaintance, X. [ had always felt that X had worthy | qualities of distinction, eng: uging touches of superiority and aloofness, but not until we were seated on an omnibus in | the high wind of last week did I realise | | how. splendid he could be and long for | similar gifts. We had just come from Blank’s, X’s hatter, where he had acquired a beau- | tiful soft hat, which he was wearing, and we were on our way regally on the front seat of a Dreadnought bus where we were bent on examining a branch of applied art. The wind, you will remember, came and one of these | | removed from X’s head his becoming new purchase and sent it spinning into the road. Uttering a brief word designed to meet, although not to ex- haust, the requirements of such occur- | Mr. | I feel | remote | | anyone else—you or I—would do ; ‘no sooner had he safely landed than | SSE wen | dl ~ SEPTEMBER 8, 1915 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARILV ARI. 217 THE GARDEN ON THE SANDS. IE TT Yau Uj G} 2) = | Vif Ly ‘ , Yin, V — i = 4 | ' - twewroon" > +, — — “~~ ae! aS — ae =, — ee RECOGNITION. THESE TWO VOLUNTEERS, THOUGH EXTREMELY THIRSTY, ARE GREATLY PLEASED AT HAVING BEEN REFUSED DRINKS ON THE GROUND THAT THEY ARE SOLDIERS, |rences, he rang the bell and descended 'from the bus. I followed. he had done no more than but So far he put up his stick to a passing taxi and bade the driver take us back to Blank’s. In the distance I could see officious persons closing in on the fugitive ; but X’s eyes did not stray in their direction. A very few moments brought us to a part of the road where, as we passed, an excited man was in the act of brush- ! ing X’s hat preparatory to finding its owner and returning it to him. I drew X’s attention to this Good Samaritan, and it was then that he seemed to me to rise inches above the common stature. “TLet’s get on to Blank’s quickly,” he said. ‘‘ Further communications from Berlin are expected to advance negotiations to the point where attacks on ship-carrying passengers will | be definitely discontinued, at least while the subject is under further discussion.”’ Morning Paper. Still, in view of the vagueness of this concession, it would be wise for the intending traveller not to include the Mauretania in his personal baggage.

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218 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. (SerremBer 8, 1915, BACK. Mixtions of stout Germans buzzed annoyingly about, flicking at me as they passed with absurd toy bayonets, and puffing from rounded cheeks their nasty gases, which spread in great balloons like the conversations in Mr. Haseupen’s Daily Mirror pictures. Then an angel—no, it must have been a goddess—appeared and drove them away with a wave of her arm, quite like the old times, you know, Hector and Troy and all that. I began to wonder which she was; Hera—I hoped not Hera, I always hated her so; or Athena—I shouldn’t mind Athena; or perhaps Aphrodite : yes, I think Aphro- dite on the whole, please. When the last German had quite gone she came towards me—so she hadn’t forgotten how to do it after all these years, you see; having rescued her favourite, she would speak to him words of advice and encouragement. How splendid! She touched me lightly on the shoulder. ‘“ Breakfast,” she said. Then she materialised a little, but only just a little. Her robes became the sober grey dress and little scarlet cloak that soldiers know and bless. ‘“ Breakfast,” she said again. ‘ We’re in.” She turned away to the next cot. Breakfast indeed! Good Heavens, who wants breakfast? We're in. A doubt assailed me; the goddess had gone and I looked uneasily round for the gas-blowing Germans, craning to see under the cot. It’s just the mean trick they would do to hide underneath and blow their nasty stuff from there. I craned as far as my miserable arm would let me till a gentle bump of the boat nearly shot me out. But it settled the matter. We are in, and that’s Southampton pier we’re bumping against. The goddess returned. ‘Come, you must eat your breakfast, you know.” Even goddesses are a nuisance at times. ‘And then you shall have a paper ; it’s just come.” “But Aphr... Sister, I can’t eat this mess.” She coaxed a little, but finally gave in. “Well, at any rate drink this, and then I’ll leave you in peace to your paper.” I drank “this” and she went. I was quite awake now, but I didn’t want to read; I just lay and listened to them getting the gangways out; it was a jolly sound. Presently a man in the far corner said there was a big casualty list in. Everyone takes a morbid interest in casualty lists, so I opened my paper to look at it. It was a penny paper, and simply enormous ; you know what they seem like when you’re ill. I turned page after page; a trench was stormed and recaptured, stormed and recaptured, stormed and recaptured. In the money markets tin shouted that it was buoyant with a persistency that was simply revolting. What business had tin to be buoyant just then? At last 1 came upon the “ Fallen Officers” notices. I ran my eye down —one or two of the men I had known; presently the name of 2nd Lieutenant John Sevastopol... Hello! that’s famil- iar; Sevastopol is a name that has lain heavy on the boys of our family ever since an enthusiastic little lady bore a son and lost a husband in the winter of ’55. Forsyth, 2nd Battalion, the W. . By Jove, it is. John Sevas- topol Forsyth. I chuckled quietly; it really was rather funny. I wondered what people I knew would say about me at breakfast that morning. With the porridge perhaps, how sad it was all these youngsters getting killed off like this; over the bacon they might recall my good points and say what a promis- ing boy I1’d always been; by the mar- malade they ’d wish they ’d been nicer to me—I am so glad they weren't. I was still chuckling when an R.A.M.C. Major came round, decorating each as he passed with a label. On me he pinned the word “Ipswich.” I read it and groaned. ‘ Major,” I said, “this is too much. Here am I, a bright and promising young officer, who has just died for his country, and you send me home and bury me at Ipswich. Ipswich of all places, I'll trouble you.” The Major was adamant. “Sorry,” he said, “ but you'll have to take your chance; you can’t all go to London.” I fired my last shot. When you really want anything out of a Major you call him Sir; it’s like calling a policeman Sergeant, you know; makes him feel as if he’d got his command by brevet. “ But, Sir,” I began, and then I explained exactly why I, at any rate, must go to London. He’d only just got his majority and was still human. “ Very well,” he said at last ; “but don’t go talking about it to every- body.” So I was redirected to London. Soon the transporting began, an ex- hausting process when you are absurdly conscious of the tenderness of most of your limbs; and when we were safely in the train I dozed at once, not to wake till we reached Waterloo. The rest was short, an ambulance ride through London streets, an absolute dream after the French pavé, and then the hospital, where beautiful white walls with rounded corners seemed to say, “ You’ve got to get well here.” It was perfect, but I wanted one thing more. Of course they had it—a port- able one, that I could speak through as I lay in bed. “ Western double-three 0 five.” That wasn’t the real number— this is the part of the story that isn’t true—and I don’t know who Western 3305 is, but I hope he’ll let me use his line for a minute. ‘ Western double- thhrrree 0 five,” answered an austere voice. A pause. “Hello!” I recog- nised the voice, it was the one I wanted, but it didn’t sound quite so merry as usual. * Hello!” it said again; “who’s that ?” “ Roughly,” I said, “this is a voice from the tomb.” “Speak up.” I spoke up; even so there seemed to be some doubt. “ What’s your number?” asked the voice. So then I began at the beginning. “T am John Sev ”—well, you know who I am, don’t you?—“ And I hope you’re not believing this silly story about my being killed, becau . . .” “Oh, Johnny!” she began. Yes, it’s good to be back from the dead. His Badge of Office. Jones. “How did you know that Robinson was a staff officer?” Brown. “ Why, because he wears red tape round his hat.” A Natural Supposition. Little girl, aged 44, to her mother :— ‘Mummy, are wasps German bees ?”’ ‘* A farmer in the Wetherby district, 73 years of age, has this year cut the whole of his corn himself with a scythe.’’ Yorkshire Evening Post. While congratulating this veteran on his remarkable skill, we think it would |, have been safer to employ a chiropodist. ‘What amount of retrospective whitewash does Germany hope to extract from exhuming the discussions . . . before the War?”’ Daily Dispatch. Well, it would seem to depend upon the number of her whited sepulchres. ‘The military program has already been framed, and half a million of dollars (£100,000,000) will be asked for.”” Evening Paper. We were aware that the American rate of exchange had been moving against us, but did not realise that it was quite so bad. The Pity of It. When memory of Prussian foulness fails, One thing will keep its fame Of cruelty and shame— The strike in Wales.

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een lars ate nst lite SS SEPTEMBER 8, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 219 — pa Yi) Ze 4s Za JAB * N " . \\ N AM} THE TEST OF A GENTLEMAN. Longshoreman (after protracted conversation). “BE YoU ONE 0’ THEY GERMANS, ZUR?” Visitor. “Goop GRAcIous, No. Wuy?” Longshoreman. ‘‘ WELL, YOU ’ASN’T ASKED I 1F I wor THIRSTY!” | OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. | (By Mr. Punch’s Staff of Learned Clerks.) THERE ought to be an Ideas Exchange for novelists. | Ideas for stories are always calling at the wrong address. | Probably at this very moment Mr. W. W. Jacoss has just | thought of a splendid plot for a medieval romance which would make Mr. Maurice HEWLETT scream with joy, while round the corner Mr. HEwuLert is wishing that he were able to do something with the magnificent idea for a Night Watchman yarn that has come to him. If only there had been some Exchange of this kind in existence, Miss Exten Apa SmirH would have been able to let Mr. W. B. Maxwetu have the theme of The Despot (Joun Lona). He is the only writer I know who could have made out of Paul Manderson, the philanthropic but unscrupulous mad doctor, the big living character which he ought to be. Miss Smirx has done her best with him, but has failed for lack of ammunition. Her gentle, rather rambling style is unequal to Manderson. She is at home with her less formidable characters, especially when they happen to be women, but she has not the power and vision necessary for the delineation of a man whose sole aim in life is to benefit humanity in the mass, and who in pursuance of this ambition ruthlessly sacrifices the lives and happiness of individuals. The Despot falls between two stools. It has not enough movement for a novel of action, and not enough detail for a novel of character. The author’s attitude towards Manderson is a question. Was he a supreme genius or merely a charlatan with hypnotic powers? If you are interested in Manderson at all, that is the one thing you want to know about him; and, when you apply : : dort . ae to Miss Smiru for authoritative information, she shrugs | her shoulders and says, “ I wonder!” To get an idea of the style of Mr. F. Horace Rosr’s latest book, Golden Glory (HoppER AND StoucGuton), I suggest that you should imagine Mr. J. C. Snarrn in the frame of mind which produced Fortune sallying forth to follow in the footsteps of Sir Riper Haaaarp in his Darkest African humour. Such a combination sounds, I admit, almost too good to be true, and in simple honesty I hasten to add that both these famous warriors might fairly feel a little aggrieved at the comparison, for, though there is twist and thrust enough to remind one of Mr. SnalTH and battle-shock that might well have been planned by Sir Riper, on neither flank is there quite the full authentic fire; yet, due allowance made, it is fair enough. Certainly for such a campaign one can hardly imagine a more conveniently arranged country than Bechuanaland of a hundred years ago would seem to have been; for in the wanderings of Napo the Dwarf, seeker of a vaguely spiritual glory, and his two stalwart friends, the only important credentials were a hand ready and a skull thick enough to meet those occasions of “liveliness” in which they were every day involved. May I confess that at times I found these warlike details more than a little involved myself and had need of a stout enough head to come through safely ? But that perhaps was natural, since no white man is allowed to intrude on these pages, a stray keg of gun- powder being the only exponent of a civilisation against which Mr. Rose is rather too fond of letting fly sundry little arrows of criticism. Such an attitude seems to me not only rather irritating but a bit ungrateful too, seeing

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220 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. [SepreMBeER 8, 1915, that his book owes a good deal to that climax of many fascinating wizardries, the production of a real live thunder- bolt; and without a properly civilised fire-barrel not even Keshwan, the boaster, could have done that. But this is not a very serious weakness, and on the whole the story is certainly one to put on your list. Mr. J. D. BeresForp, having long delighted us with his famous realistic trilogy, has in his latest mood gone off at a tangent into the frankest conventionalism. It is indeed possible that he has a little overdone it. I didn’t find my- self quite able to believe in his Arthur Grey, who (scion of a noble English house, son of a remittance-man father and an honest Canadian mother,) determines, owing to stout highbrow notions, never to claim his inheritance, yet comes over and contrives to be invited as a guest to his ancestral home, falls inevitably in love with his cousin, Lady Tempe (quite a nice girl), and ends by taking both her and the family title and estates, in order to save complications— idea. If the title was meant for apology it is certainly undemanded, for the story or stories it covers are excellent of their kind. I say stories because almost every chapter ‘is, so to speak, self-contained and semi-detached ; indeed, if they have not made a previous appearance in magazine form, they might quite easily have done so. The subject of them is the adventures of a little group of Lithuanian Jews, newly settled in the United States. Throughout, the atmosphere is what might be called Potashy; fortunately perhaps a recent theatrical success has endeared this kind of thing to the public heart. Chief among the characters is one Lapidowitz,a Schnorrer. Perhaps you know already what a Schnorrer is? The author here defines it as one who lives by his wits, or (one might add) the lack of them in others. This Lapidowitz is a great man. One of the tales tells of the little list he keeps of touchable friends, and the method by which Fate and the widow Lubin frustrated his plans of extracting ten dollars from the chief of them. Lapidowitz indeed seems seldom to have been which Mr. BrreEsForp, rather perversely, as it seems to me, has himself invented. By the way, he will find, 1 think, if he looks up his peerage, that he has deprived the Marquis of Cheshire’s son of his courtesy title; and that is a very terrible mistake to make in the eyes of the higher pat- rons of the circulating happy in his dealings with the sex, from Miss Fraser, the Christian school-teacher whom he employed little Moisshe to woo vicariously with apples, to Mrs. Zabriskie with whom he had ar- ranged a _ two-months’ engagement on a strictly leash basis. All these and the other stories in the book are, I think, libraries, though I my- self might be disposed to agree with him that it didn’t much matter. It’ is quite likely that The Mountains of the Moon (CAssELL) will find new readers for Mr. Brres- FORD on the strength of a deservedly high reputa- tion acquired in another and more excellent way. But what I should like Helpful Passer-by. ‘‘ EXCUSE ME, A FISH.”’ The Novice. ‘‘ YES, yes, I KNow FISH OFF THE HOOK.” to ask the publishers is, where in the world they discovered | the peculiarly beastly pimpled blue cloth which I thought all modern self-respecting bookmakers had decided for ever to avoid? It should be a strafeable offence to revive its use. Green Eyes (HoppER AND StouGcutTon), by Miss Ecerton Jones, introduces us to yet another Ruritania. But I think that Asgaarde (the name given by Miss Ecerton Jones to the little Kingdom of her fancy) was created only because she wanted a real blood-royal hero. The main scenes of her book are laid in Australia, where the heir to the throne of Asgaarde was travelling incognito and fell in love with the lady of the verdant optic. Asgaarde in the end becomes “practically a Montenegrin province,” but I am glad to say —for it would be tactless to cast reflections upon one of our Allies—that she does not leave me scandalised by the way in which it was annexed. This is apparently a first novel, and it is perhaps a little too sentimental and too gushing. But it is written with the enthusiasm and verve of youth, and the presence of those qualities in its pages makes me readier to commend than to condemn. Why Mr. Bruno Lesstna should have called his book With the Best Intention (Hurst anp Buacgkert) I have no BOOK TO SEE WHETHER I TAKE THE HOOK OUT OF THE FISH OR THE tertaining to warrant me in recommending them to your notice. 1 should add that they have been most characteristically illustrated by M. Leone BrackErR, whose pictures have secured the spirit of the Ghetto with un- usual skill. Sm, But I THINK YOU HAVE CAUGHT ; BuT I’M LOOKING THROUGH THE ————— —_ A publisher's notice of Mr. Hatt Catne’s new War-book informs us that it is “a series of flash-lights on the human side of the vast struggle” which “should act as a clarion-call to the nation.” It sounds rather like a cinema-show with cornet obbligato. Commercial Candour. From a confectioner’s price list :— ‘*___'s CHEWING GUN. Used by all athletes and those undertaking feats of endurance, such as marching, etc. It banishes thirst and creates a healthy saliva to promote indigestion.” ‘*Tea was served on the lawn at Lansdown, the ‘ waitresses’ being approximately garbed with ‘ Union Jack’ aprons.”—St. Ives Times. If the description is approximately correct a lot of trade must have followed the flag on this occasion. MR. PUNCH TO HIS FRIENDS. Mr. Punch is reproducing his Cartoon, ‘‘The Two Ideals,” with his lines, ‘The Wayside Calvary,” printed below. The issue will be on rough paper, and the price 2s. 6d. Application should be made to the Secretary, “ Punch” Offices, 10, Bouverie Street, Whitefriars, E.C. sufficiently fresh and en- |

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in n- m ld ly ‘E es rit n- ich , to ing de 8, yw. a

SerTeMBER 15, 1915.) PUNCH. OR

CHARIVARIA. Tue veil has at last been lifted in favour of a correspondent of the American Press, and we in England

| | fact that “the necessity for attending wet | to damage received in battle had always VA

| no longer a boast of any value. The | thing now is to have come in with the

are permitted to share with Germany a knowledge of the activities of our Grand Fleet. Among other secrets now revealed we learn the poignant been foreseen by the British Naval authorities.” ss cin |

The following dialogue is reported | from the United States :— Count Bernstorff. I assure you on| my word of honour as a German gentle- man that the Imperial Government has throughout been actuated by the highest principles of humanity. Uncle Sam. O shucks! Tell that to; ™ the submarines. , .. We always look to the British Ass. | to provide sensations for September, and, though this September is in no| need of such stimuli, here they are. The President of the Zoological section describes the earliest forms of life on this planet as “specks, or globules, of a substance similar in its reactions to chromatics.” From these—in time— sprang all our great men. * < Coming over with the Conqueror is

| globules, or specks. 7 Rotackee——<— a. ae | , eS - } Major Morant ‘evidently fails to| oon CA | understand football in the English - , style. Otherwise his words in The Visitor. ‘‘I SEE YOU HAVE A FACTORY BUILT HERE?”’ Times of September 4 would not read: Native. ‘‘No, INDEED, ZuR, BUT US ’AD A ZEPPELIN HERE LAST WEEK, AND THAT’S ‘“« France may resolve to send her goal- ONLY OLD Mrs. BROWN’S WELL, BLOWN INSIDE OvUT.”’ birds into the front line.”

‘. | yacht lent by his Lordship the Bishop; whieh he had held him. Mr. Hopce | From Brigade Orders by the O.C.|of Nassau, bearing the name The|is astrong man. We ourselves could | 2/1st South Midland Mounted Brigade: Message of Peace. |not have held Mr. MacDona.p half so | “The Warwickshire Yeomanry will} ah high. . * parade at 9 a.m., facing the Lake, and! According to a contemporary, a - will bring their Rattles on parade with | ‘ wireless message sent to the German| The conduct of Dr. Duma in pro- them.” Can you wonder that our Embassy, Cedarhurst, New York, by | moting strikes in American munition yeomen complain of being treated as wireless, was circulated by the Wireless | factories was reported to have rendered infantry ? es Press.”” Reading carefully between the | him persona non grata. Subsequently | * |lines we have come to the conclusion} we were informed that he had given An extravagant London bachelor, | that no actual wire was employed. a “satisfactory explanation” and that suddenly taken by the great idea of +9 the “incident was closed.” This state- retrenchment, is putting a notice in the; A shell bursting in a trench in;ment now turns out to be incorrect, papers to the effect that after a certain France struck a box of gramophone|but meanwhile it gave a prophetic date he will no longer be responsible | needles, seventeen of which were after- | significance to The Evening Standard’s for his own debts. wards extracted from a soldier’s back. reference to him as “a person ‘anon

I ” + | That is “getting the needle” with a grata.’ — | It may interest the Editor of The| vengeance. oes | . Westminster Gazette, who is running an | Festal Many Bosches have failed to find in | exciting correspondence on “Religion| At a Socialist and Labour demon-; Russia a home from home. This is and the War,” to know that the small) stration Mr. Joun Hover, M.P., stated| explained by the fact that there is a Bahamas contingent of thirty for the | that Mr. Ramsay MacDonaup, M.P.,| marked difference between the Father- British Army was sent to Jamaica in a|had fallen from the high estate in| land and the Steppe-farther-land.

VOL. CXLIX. M

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [SepreMBer 15, 1915, TO A ZEPPELIN. {In the measure of SHELLEY’s To a Skylark.) Hai to thee, high-flier, Who with generous heart Pourest out thy fire Over earth’s dim chart In sundry spasms of well-premeditated art! Like a monstrous bird Overseas thou comest ; Melodies unheard Through the heavens thou hummest, And bombing still dost soar, and soaring ever bombest. O’er thy bloated carcass Plays the silver beam, Where, in azure dark, as In a nightmare dream, Thy crew are swung and wish themselves elsewhere, I deem. Forth from many a tile (hark!) Boom the happy guns, Having quite a sky-lark Blazing at the Huns, With now a decent shot, and now some rotten ones. Didst thou look for panic, Counting on a scare Caused by that Titanic Sausage up in air? Then let me tell thee, London hasn’t turned a hair. Calm she gazed with such eyes On the scene as though Watching cocoanut-shies Or a comet-show Or pyrotechnics done by Messrs. Brock and Co. Saw the last red light out, And, with jaunty tread, After half a night out Struck for home and bed And on the usual pillow laid the usual head. With the morrow’s dawning Rose and, all serene, Turned—a little yawning— To the day’s routine, And went about her work as if thou hadst not been. FURTHER CONCESSIONS. (To be outlined in the next German note.) In future it is understood that the Imperial Government will (wherever this is possible and not highly inconvenient to the operations of German war vessels) allow an interval oi twenty minutes for the repentance and self-preparation of American citizens before the destruction by torpedo or otherwise of any first-class liner. This concession must be understood to be only available when and where the following conditions are rigorously observed :— (1) On first sighting a hostile submarine the passenger steamer must at once communicate by wireless the names and addresses of all Americans and Englishmen passengers. These persons must be collected into two separate — boats, and the boats labelled “ Wilson” and “ Grey” spectively. Also the exact amount of munitions of war concealed as personal luggage must be notified. (2) On being missed by a shell or torpedo discharged by a German submarine, any liner must instantly signal to the submarine concerned, “I apologise. Please try again—a little more to the right (or left, as the case may be).” ~ - (3) On finding his vessel within attacking distance of any German submarine, but unobserved by the latter, the commanding officer of any liner shall instantly signal her name and exact latitude, with the words, “Here we are. Please send torpedo; or shall we blow ourselves wp ?” (4) On receiving no answer any such commanding officer shall instantly order all English passengers into open boats, which shall convey them within range of the aforesaid sub- marine. In ease it cannot be found, such’ boats must be left on the high seas, labelled “‘ Englishman—To be left till called for.” (5) Any such liner or passenger steamer as aforesaid, when torpedoed and sinking, shall order all remaining passengers on deck, and go down with band playing Die Wacht am Rhein. (6) Any liner or passenger steamer as above practising evasive tactics, such as— (a) Continuing its voyage without communication or apology as above ; (b) Dodging, or attempting to dodge or evade, any Ger- man torpedo discharged with intent to destroy it, shall be considered a legitimate object for destruction. (7) Any English or other belligerents detected in the action of looking for, scanning or observing any German submarine occupied in the execution of its duty shall be shot as spies. THE DREAM OF PRIVATE ATKINS. 8 a.m.—Inspected Officers’ equipment. Officers did not come to attention at once on my appearance, so gave whole lot two hours’ pack drill. Put two men back to clean their binoculars. Orderly Room, 9 a.m.—Adjutant before me for omitting to salute Lance-Corporal Smith. Awarded fourteen hours’ fatigue. 9.30 a.m@—Took Platoon-Commanders in squad drill. Hopelessly stupid lot. Their formation of fours ludicrous. No notion whatever of difference between their right and left. Put entire squad back for further instruction in recruit drill. 11 a.m.—Parade of Company Commanders. Gave them “For inspection—Port Canes.” Several canes not sufficiently polished ; my own Company Commander’s particularly rusty in the nob. Gave him three days’ C.B. That should teach him. Continued trouble with Colonel. Spoke to him several times about his manner towards me. Any- body would think sometimes, from Colonel’s attitude, that he was at least my equal in rank. His tunic buttons, too, a disgrace to the battalion. Tell him that I really cannot tolerate these slovenly practices. His plea that he has not sufficient time for cleaning tunic, etc., I reject forthwith. Tell him to:rise earlier ; every Colonel should be up by 5.30. Stop all his leave for a month. | Have had to tell him off several times on account of his habit of making cynical remarks on the subject of my alleged ignorance of the drill-book. Think I have taught him lesson, however, and that he will be more careful in the future. 1.30 p.m.—Attended Officers’ Mess to hear complaints. Told them that their Irish stew was as good as any Private could want. What did they expect? A chef from an A. B. C. shop?

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LONDON CHARIVARI.—Septemper 15, 1915. y J PUNCH, OR THE SO \ \ \ q - sin : \\ NAY AQ TIRP. THANK HEAVEN THAT’S THE LAST OF “T DON’T THINK!” UNSINKABLE THE GERMAN CHANCELLOR. “ WELL, or 35 )- e ll _ A oa a oe TIRPITZ.” Tirpitz (reappearing). PI J

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Private Brown (out of the picture). ‘‘ WHO PUT THE BUTTER ON THIS BREAD?”’ Sister Mary (sternly). ‘‘I pip, Brown.”’ Private Brown. ‘‘O—nHO! WHO TOOK IT OFF, THEN?’’

{‘*The brassards supplied to the Central Association of Volunteer Training Corps... are the property of the State, and cannot + therefore be allowed to pass into the private ownership of individual members. The Coun- | cil trust that adequate steps are taken to ensure | that the brassards are recovered from those | individuals who, on leaving the corps, are no | longer entitled to retain them. Used brassards, being marked with the name of the member | to whom they were issued, will, after return, | be burnt in the presence of a responsible indi- | vidual, who should retain a record of those so | destroyed. In the event of an ex-member | | declining to return the brassard after reasonable | application, the assistance of the civil authority | | can be invoked.”— War Office Announcement. ] | | Scene.—The Tower of London, inside | | the Traitors’ Gate. | Dramatis Personx.—A Responsible Magnifico, a Prisoner (formerly Mem- ber of a Train-band ), the Governor's Cat, Two Tower Ravens, Scriveners, rarter King-of-Arms, a Pursuiva Garter King-of-Arms, a Pursuivant, and his Minions, a Turnkey, Bur- gesses, Apprentices and the like. | Tiur.—Any old Period. Pursuivant (to the assembled gather- ing). Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! Beit known to all and sundry that a certain indi- vidual, to wit, James Scrunt, haber- dasher, having renounced all privileges and sac and soc as member of the train-

Warders, Beef-eaters, The Headsman | ~

BURNING THE BRASSARD band known as the Gorgeous Wrecks, | it were best to reserve this ceremony hath contumaciously refused to render to the Fifth of November. up his badge or armlet against the [This may be an anachronism, but is peace of Our Lord the King. Where- vehemently applauded by the Ap- fore I proclaim this Moot to be open, prentices, anyway. to show cause why due sentence should; Magnifico. Nay, the case is urgent. not be pronounced. Let the Prisoner} Proceed with your office. Let the be produced. | Scriveners take due note of the event. [Execrations from the Beef-eaters, the | [They scriven profusely. Ravens and the Cat. Headsman (to his minions). Get ready, . . ; ; - | The Prisoner is led in by Warders|varlets, and prepare the faggots and from a barge, the moat having been | stake.

flooded for the occasion. He is| [The Varlets do so. Business with flint | heavily manacled and his eyes are | and steel. bandaged with scarlet tape, but he| _ Prisoner. Is this free England, and wears his brassard defiantly. 'must.I be burnt alive? I swear, your Magnifico. Prisoner, you are accused | Mightiness, I only kept the armlet to of having contumaciously refused to|hide a rent in my sleeve. My haber- render up your armlet, being no longer | dashery is at an end, but I have grand- a member of the train-band to which sons in Flanders now fighting for their you belonged. Have you aught to say | liege. in your defence ? Magnifico. Beshrew me, but you can [Prisoner is silent. His eyes are un- find words now, you surly knave. Nay, bandaged. 'I only meant to terrify you! You shall Magnifico. Ha, Sirrah! So you are indeed escape with your life; but, as a mute of malice. You were best given warning to all other dastards, your over to the peine forte et dure, were it | armlet shall be burnt to ashes! not that another fate is in store for you! | [The solemn rite is carried out. Prisoner (To the Warders) Do your duty there. | collapses under the strain or from [They tear off his brassard and hand it | excess of joy, but is presently revived to the Headsman, who receives tt | by the Turnkey. Garter then pro- with a pair of tongs. claims the ceremony ended, A Burgess. Methinks, your Honour, | ZiGZAG.

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226 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAR | | IVARI. [SerreMBER 15, 1915, | ** India—er—um—India, well, India is a hell of a place and I shall be thundering glad to get out of it.” He was deservedly cheered to the echo. I fear, Mr. Punch, that our health is causing the authorities grave misgiv- ings. liver since we landed in India we have been constantly told that the Fort which we are now garrisoning is the worst, unhealthiest and most dangerous A TERRITORIAL IN INDIA. x My pear Mr. Puncu,—If the Katsrer still nursed any mistaken ideas that we English are at all down-hearted about the War, he should have paid a visit to our Fort on the anniversary of the Declaration of War. He would soon have seen enough to convince him that the British Empire has still plenty of kick left in it. . We played a comic foot- | ps ball match with twenty-| | two a side, the players being lashed together in pairs as in a three-legged race. |i It was a good match, | | | though hampered by the; eccentric behaviour of the | referee, one half of whom! persisted in signalling such commands as “ Retire” and “Close on the centre” every | time he heard the whistle | blown by the other half—' commands which a year’s | military discipline caused | the men to obey mechani- | cally. This brought about | confused conditions unpro- | vided for in the Rules of Football. Later, when the | decision of the referee was | required in a little matter of handling in the penalty area, he was discovered sitting at the other end of the ground peacefully play- ing cards with himself. The cards were confiscated, but shortly afterwards herubbed down one of the goal-posts | and was ejected from the) field of play shouting, “ Gott y strafe Prickly Heat !” with ' Ze q passionate intensity. | : . » = | Eight Territorials hoped he’d rest in heaven; | One took his topee off, and then there were | seven, Seven Territorials brooded on their fix ; | One picked up dysentery, and then there were | six. Six Territorials strove to keep alive ; | One died from cholera, and then there were five. | Five Territorials quaked more and more ; | One ate a little fruit, and then there were four. Four Territorials thought they ’d better flee ;_| One met a mad dog, and then there were three, Three Territorials felt extremely | blue ; : One drank some water, and then | there were two. | Two Territorials wilted in the | sun ; One had a heat-stroke, and then there was one. One Territorial felt his day was done, He committed suicide, and then | | there was none. Yet, strangely enough, we remain as a body fit and healthy, and in defiance of all precedent persist in flourishing as if our station were a_ veritable health- resort. Obviously such a state of affairs is highly irregular, and a month or “4 ‘two ago the authorities \ took the drastic step of appointing a new Medical Officer. As it happened it proved quite ineffectual, for | this gentlemen, becoming | infected with the prevalent spirit of heresy, entered into beneficent league with our O.C. Detachment and set about taking energetic measures which have made us still fitter and healthier, to the shattering of statistics. It is a curious situation. I picture them up at Simla In the evening we held | singing and speech-making | competitions, and — our| Zid Old Dame. ‘‘ You’vE HAD TWO PENN’ORTH OF SWEETS, MY LITTLE MAN, BUT YOU'VE ONLY GIVEN ME A PENNY.’’ The Little Man. ‘‘Yes, BUT FARVER SAYS ONE PENNY’S GOT TO perplexed and _ shrugging their shoulders. ‘ Ah, well, these Territorial fellows are greatest effort—a beauty | show. The prize for beauty abd 2 ; ; was voted by acclamation to a resource- | hot - weather station in the country. ful Private made up as an English flap- | Regulars always allude to it pleasantly per. His skirt, it must be admitted,|as “the death-trap,” or “the white was improvised from an Army sheet} man’s grave,” or “that ruddy ceme- and his luxuriant locks from coir pur- | tery ;” and those who know both places loined from an army bed (so-called). | assure us that Aden is a holiday centre But anything remotely resembling an by comparison. In fact, so gloomy English girl now knocks us clean off|was the outlook when we received our balance, and there was never any | orders to provide the garrison for the question of his success. ‘hot season that our poet was inspired The stump speeches were not models to produce the following :— of eloquence, thus proving once MOFe | Ton Territorials fancied India fine, that soldiers are men of action, not | Til! one caught malaria, and then there were words. The prize-winner was given| nine. the subject “India” on which to deliver Nine Territorials mourned his hapless fate ; an address. ‘ India,” he said nervously, One found a cobra, and then there were eight. DO THE WORK OF TWO IN WAR-TIME.”’ really not normal. One doesn’t know what to do with them.” And then they laboriously compile fresh tables and sigh for the good old days. All the same, our glowing health ;Seems an inadequate solace for the daily dose of quinine, and my final word must be “ Ugh!” Yours ever, ONE OF THE PuNCH BriGave. P.S.—* Ugh!” ‘* The only insects which are fewer in nunt- bers almost everywhere are house-flies, doubt- less owing to the campaign against them initiated by The Daily Mail.”—Daily Mail. Nothing is too small for it.

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aven ; | > were } five. | » four, | flee ; three, emely | then | 1 the | then | y was then |} | ugh, and | e of | in ition | ilth- | +h a. | ghly | h or | ities | » of lical dit | , for | ning lent ered with and | retic 1ade vier, of ion. mila | ging | vell, | are | One | do usly the alth the inal unt- ubt- hem i. ! { | SEPTEMBER 15, 1915.] Seaside Lodger. ‘‘I’m AFRAID, Mrs. GuBBINS, WE SHALL HAVE TO LEAVE THESE ROOMS. LISTEN TO SOLDIERS SHOUTING ‘ EYES FRONT!’ PUNCH, OR oP am THE CURSE OF WAR. ‘ALL FouRS !’ +My yy hy) a te OPS srr) 2 rr AZ, tit th Lfsdd LAME Lite tA A tte é A ji! Avg Zz a7 It’s REALLY TOO TRYING TO HAVE TO AND SILLY THINGS LIKE THAT.’’ | MORE FISHING IN FLANDERS. Ir is all over now and the Corps Commander has issued an order for- bidding the practice. So of course it never can happen again. There can be no harm therefore in telling the story. The entente cordiale is not likely to be permanently damaged by the revelation. It happened in Flanders a few weeks ago; not that part of Flanders where Sergeant McCallum in his spare mo- ments casts the fly over running waters, as described in Punch, but the part where standing water is everywhere and the troops are forbidden to drink it under pain of instant death. The neighbourhood has a habit of fishing and even in these bad days a few stout-hearted old boys are not to be interrupted in their favourite pastime. I do not think that they ever catch | much, but they do a lot of fishing. It was the hour when the homing| aeroplane comes droning overhead and the big guns on either side are bidding each other “Good night.” The sun had set, but the red glow was still in the sky. It was a windless calm and the still waters of the canal reflected the long lines of the over-arching poplars. At the bend just below the lock by St.-What-d’ you-call-him was an old Flamand, a regular vieux pécheur clad in blue smock, with rod on shoulder and his bait-can in his hand. He had been spending a peaceful day within range of the German guns and had caught nothing. On his way home he had stopped to talk to two brothers of the craft. These, Heaven bless them, were no other than two subalterns of a famous Indian regiment. They carried no rods, but between them was a large basket filled with fish of all the un- appetising varieties which haunt these muddy waters. As I drew near I heard an honest British voice speaking in laboured French. ‘ Monsieur,” it said, ‘nous les prenons dans les mains.” The old peasant was puzzled. Mes- sieurs les Anglais were wonderful people and admitted adepts at sports of all kinds, but that they should catch fish in their hands by the basket- ful, without so much as wetting: their sleeves, seemed a bit too much. At that moment a stalwart Sikh orderly, who was standing a little apart from the others, peering down among the reeds which fringe the margin of the canal, cried out, “‘ Hk aur mila, Sahib” (Here’s another, Sir), and, stooping down, picked up a large roach which wriggled feebly in his hand. “Mon Dieu, les Hindous !”’ said the Frenchman, and, crossing himself de- voutly, departed through the twilight. I swear I never gave it away, and yet four days later the order appeared: ‘‘ Bombs are issued for use against the | enemy, and their employment for the | destruction of fish is prohibited.” “LATE WAR NEWS. TE. 13 RerioateD. Hutt Rippiep By GERMAN SHELLS.”’ Daily Mail. See Berlin official wireless in a day or two: “Even the English papers admit that one of the most important | of their fortified East coast cities has been severely damaged by the accurate firing of our gallant sailors.”

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228 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAR [SEPTEMBER 15, 1915. IVARL. KIPPY OF THE “BLUES.” Last Tuesday evening Joe persuaded me to cut my bomb-drill of the morrow —in my platoon we throw the jam-pot on Wednesday afternoon. “You simply must come to the Madoxes,” she tempted; “the ‘ Blues’ | from Broadmead Hospital are going to be there—seventeen of them.” Of course I went. I simply love the wounded in their blue suits. as 3s a8 a a «Ey yer got a partner, Sir?” On the very threshold of the garden stood a small figure, with one arm in a sling and the other waving a tennis racquet. He smiled at me like a pleased child. From that moment I belonged to him, and to him alone. His name was Kippy. “No,” I replied, “I have not. What is it?” “Well, Sir, me and one of the other incapables was agoin’ to take on Swish and Gunner Toady, but they all seems to be crowkettin’ and what not, so I thors-———?” He looked at me inquiringly. “Right-o!” I exclaimed. ‘ Where’s a racquet ?” Kippy produced one from the sum- mer-house. It was half-brother to a snow-shoe, but, having four uninjured limbs, I willingly conceded the handicap. | own and everybody else’s satisfaction, “You got ter look out for Swish,” my partner confided ; “’e’s extrordinry nippy for ‘igh explosive in the knee.” I started to serve, a graceful honour, and put a couple into the net. I re- | odds, including a partner who plays | with the wrong ball. | We drifted over to watch the con- clusion of the clock-golf competition— 'four prizes for the four lowest scores. | |Kippy, who had played his round | before I came, stood in an unassailable position for the prize with a score of 27. The two last players finished well in the thirties. pered confidentially, ‘an’ they both got the D.C.M. too!” Suddenly he had an idea. “Wot about these ’ere totally inca- pables?”’ He indicated those warriors who were too badly wounded to take | part in anything. | prizes? . |tinued, no suggestion being offered, |“ there’s six totallies, ain’t there? | Well, six of us repersents ‘em and plays | ‘agen—see? I'll take Soggy Mills.” | The resuscitated competition was | watched with burning interest, espe- ;cially by the totallies. previous practice had anything to do | with it or not I cannot say, but when Kippy, playing last, put Soggy Mills l'on the top with a miraculous 24, and | turned to read the scoring list, he pre- | faced the results by exclaiming joyfully, | Blest if the cripples ain’t gone and | won hall the prizes !”’ Having settled this matter to his | Kippy went on to further struggles. Our sports platoon only averaged two and a-half available limbs, but for sheer endurance—well, it was the first occasion on which I realised why the | peated the offence from the other | Prussian Guard failed to reach Calais. | court. | & propos of the Gunner’s play ; “ plung- | “T forgot to tell yer, Sir,” my partner whispered hoarsely, “ but I got a packet o’ fags on over this.” I pulled myself together and, though hard put to it by the Gunner’s lobs, we eventually won. “K’s bin with one o’ them ‘eayy ‘owitzer batteries,” remarked Kippy in’ fire, that’s ’is game.” He glanced round the lawn with a bright eye. “’Ow about a little crowket, Sir?” he queried. “Of course,” I replied; “come on.” I gathered up a mallet and tried a short approach. “Now,” exclaimed Kippy, addressing the opposing platoon, “ you knows the rules? First through the ‘oop ‘its the stick, and ennybody playin’ out of the ‘erbashus border will be court- martialled.” We won the croquet hands down, | Kippy being made of the stuff which is born to achieve success against any At length came the tense moment of and farewell cigarettes were lighted, and J, all that remained of me, went happily home. | «What's this?” said Joe as she |picked up a piece of metal from the coffee-table after dinner. That,” I replied, “is a fragment of shell, taken, so Kippy assured me, direct from his ‘stummick.’ Kindly \leave it alone. It is a love-token.” The Journalistic Touch. ‘The millions which have been sp2nt in munitions and blown into the air have merely | been transferred from one pocket to another.”’ Sidcup and District Times. Commercial Candour. | ‘* £5 5s.—IMPERIAL TYPEWRITER, new con- dition, cost £2.’’—The Hull Daily Mail. | Chaplain to the Slackers.—CHaruie | CHAPLIN. “’Opeless, ain’t they ?”’ Kippy whis- | “’Ow about their | Tell yer wot,” he con- | Whether the | departure; blue jackets were donned | THE ICONOCLAST. I’m an optimist staunch and whole- | hearted— | At least I was one till to-day, | When my confidence largely departed | In the following singular way ; For it chanced that a fatal delusion I cannot attempt to explain Impelled me to scan the effusion Of Mister |Our statesmen, to follow his reading, Have always got lumps in their throats, And indulge when exhorting or pleading | In strings of falsetto high notes ; | And their conduct at Cabinet meetings Is wholly absurd and inane, | If we credit the wonderful bleatings Of Mister Bedaubed by his praises each hero Whose prowess in honour I held Sinks down from the zenith to zero, His halo completely dispelled ; While the men I was always assailing Some justification obtain From the quite ineffectual railing Of Mister ‘ By the law that declares the corrective Reciprocal force of extremes The study of TreIrscHKE’s invective The best sort of antidote seems; |For only by remedies drastic Relief can I hope to attain | From the influence iconoclastic Of Mister ——- | Things that Might be Differently Said. i. ‘* Mr. Editor, the Mayor spoke very feelingly when welcoming us here and sympathised with us in the hardships we endured while prisoners in G.S.W.A., but I can assure you all those hardships can be considered as a pleasure when comparing them with the magnificent recep- tion that was extended us.”’ | Letter from a released prisoner of War in ‘© The Cape Times.”’ | af. | Quite recently our Bishop went over the | Hospital and spoke to the men in each ward. | In spite of this suffering the men seemed to | be in the best of spirits.’’ Hersham Parish Magazine. III. ‘**Lance-Corpl. T. was captured by the enemy at the battle of Mons, is happy in.his internment. He has a | wife and six children.”’ Peterborough Advertiser. | Extract from a circular of a Belgian | Refugees’ Committee :-— | ‘*A sewing class for the women has been | started at the Corn Exchange, kindly lent by | the Corporation, who make clothes for them- | selves.’’ |Thus setting an excellent example to | the exiles. (2nd Suffolks), who |

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SerTeEMBER 15, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. bo bo | at THE NOBLE ART OF “CARRYING ON.” Scene—Somewhere in France.

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I { Be, G7 WY ™ 7 At y, z BX _tH~VZGG WY Mi fyHe PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL

Ae [SerTEMBER 15, 1915, y : = s” 4 & 7 4 es UP ’ _——————— Se EZ a r Ss — P ba ia . - ia = Lady. ‘‘ Wr ALWAYS KEEP THE HOSE READY, IN CASE OF A ZEPPELIN RAID.” Visitor. ‘‘ Burt SURELY, MY DEAR, IT WOULD NEVER REACH THEM AT THE HEIGHT THEY FLY?”’’

TO A NEUTRAL FRIEND. | To thee I sing, who knowest well | What news accords with British taste, | And dost delightful stories tell, Or warnings give with zealous haste; Who comfortest the optimist With many a soothing telegram— To thee I sing, O Journalist Of Amsterdam. When German hordes are rushing west To break our unsubstantial line, The dismal fact thou mentionest With tact peculiarly thine, Givin« it just the little twist That makes its menace seem a shain Quite patent to the Journalist Of Amsterdam. No sad reverse of our Allies, No accident that we sustain, But, seen through thine impartial eyes, Becomes a sound and solid gain ; No bitter pill which foes persist In giving us but has its jam Veneer from thee, O Journalist Of Amsterdam.

Thy lovingkindness then I laud— Thy flood of treacle naught can check, More soothing than the balm of Mavpk, | Or sugar-plums of Roustam Bex,

Nor ask if our antagonist Be cheered as I, twice daily, am By like inventions, Journalist Of Amsterdam.

THE FIDDLER. “ Hip, hip, hooray!” yelled the boy, and, vaulting the railing, took up his stand in the gutter as the 3rd Royal shires—twelve hundred strong— ‘swung into sight. ‘“ Hooray!” cried the urchin again; but it fell very flat,

How the transformation came about|and the men were fagged out, caps I can’t pretend to explain, for in the| pushed off their foreheads, tunics un- first place he must have felt very nearly | hooked at the throat, boots weighing as bedraggled, as pinched and despair- | like lead. ing as he logked. You were bound either to smile or to sigh: he was so obviously, so grotesquely, ‘down on his luck,” with the shiny frock-coat (a size too smail) tightly buttoned across his chest, trousers creasing like a couple of concertinas about his thin ankles, and the battered straw -hat worn with an attempt at jauntiness which deceived nobody. “Ought to be above this sort of thing,” muttered a well-fed holiday- maker. “ Drink, probably,” suggested ,another. But occasionally, very occa- sionally, a coin would chink at his feet. | As he bent to pick it up, wisps of grey hair tickled his cheeks. Standing in the drizzling rain on this deserted sea-front, he rubbed his numbed fingers, and a dirty-faced boy, mimicking him to the life, capered on the pavement, an imag- ‘inary fiddle tucked under his chin.

| Hesitatingly, the fiddler shuffled nearer the road, raised his bow, and then—he came into his own. First he struck up some familiar rollicking 'tune, and the men in the front ranks _were soon humming the refrain. Next \he danced alongside the column, now | walking, now running, caring neither that a sudden gust of wind had blown his hat off his head, nor that a very |junior subaltern marching at the head ‘of the leading platoon cast him an amused, not ungrateful glance over his shoulder. From top to toe—mind, I am not attempting to explain it—the little man was transformed; his back /had grown straight; even his clothes seemed to fit him; his feet flew over the ground, and into his dull eyes had come 'a foolish twinkling light as, with coat- tails merrily flapping in the breeze, he played the soldiers back to camp.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Serremser 15, 1915. se —— - by : Jj, My; 7 “i ¢ {77 lz . w-) JZ f, / = YU jaa Pi ij . s = KY alt b } LS Bs mii e it, wy / , . MD PA\G ad 199) ££ yy; q} Ns z} THE CALL OF THE TSAR. “WHO FOLLOWS ME FOR HOLY RUSSIA’S SAKE?” |

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SEPTEMBER 15, 191:

Coster. .] PUNCH, OR THE LONI ‘“°RRE Y’ ARE, JON CHAR

RI. IVA

BOSS'S

be - a ans dee “ — ~ “ MMR AA = sts SS

LIpY! OSTEND RABBITS. KILLED BY THE WRORSSNS SN, o\ S \\ a \ 1” British FLEET

CULTURE IN THE TRENCHES. THE admirable scheme of Broad- sheets for the Front has already, we understand, had a marked influence upon literary taste among the troops ; and the old popular songs are either being discarded or modified in the direction of greater dignity. Thus, “Who’s your lady friend?” has now become “ May I venture to enquire the name of your fair acquaintance?” No- body any longer sings, “ Here we are, here we are, here we are again,” except in the new version, as follows: ‘“ We have pleasure in signalising our return to this neighbourhood.” When they refer to Tipperary it is to say, ‘The distance to Tipperary is very considerable,’ and allusions to John Brown’s body take the form of “ The mortal remains of the late Mr. John Brown continue to decompose.”

Maternal Acrobatics. “Thus Kieff, the mother, nurses on her bosom the cradle of Russian history.’’ Morning Paper. THE OFFICE-GIRL. (Asa result of the War, many of the lead- ing commercial houses in the City now employ large numbers of girls.) No damsels who have seen three lustres Now flog the furniture with dusters, Or patch up frocks, condescend to darn their fathers’ .. SOCKS, Or Bellona has unloosed their fetters And set ’em free to index letters, And lick and scrawl In lieu of lads who have obeyed the call. Lured by no lucrative attraction, For them the bliss of benefaction Alone sufficed ; And so they joined the grizzled and the spliced. Poor pasture for the sweet and single, Where, perched on stools, they toil and mingle With mellow scribes, Who grumble and exchange archaic gibes. No shadow of the elusive rapture ; And yet—who knows Whither to-day the wind of Cythera blows ? . In realms where hearts don’t melt like butter, Where ledgers gape and pen-nibs splutter, And no birds sing, There may survive some eligible thing. Sweet is the love-song of the throstle, At last succumb To Araminta of the inky thumb!

Our Receptive Contemporary. ‘*When her husband died, Mrs. Moules married a widower with seventeen children, all of whom she brought us.”"—Daily Mail. The paragraph continues :— ‘«The old lady now lives with her youngest daughter, whose twelve children are all named after flowers.”

Sweet peas, no doubt, for choice.

No slippery swain to chase and capture, | But sweeter still should some old fossil |

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234 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARIT. [SEPTEMBER 15, 1915, THE HAIR-TONIC. I xa the hair-brush down on my | dressing-table with a sigh and walked | “Look here,” T into Joan’s room. began, “I’ve tried that odoriferous | decoction of sage leaves you made for | me, ‘ Aunt Nettie’s’ recipe in last week’s | Snappy Chat, sulphur lotion, quinine. invigorator, and goodness knows what besides, and it’s as grey as ever. In| desperation I’m going to——”’ “Oh, don’t fly to cosmetics !” cried Joan in alarm. “Just think of the “Oh, do get a curly one!” Joan called out. “And remind Mrs. Middleton of GiuBert CHESTERTON,” I sung out. “Good idea! I will.” Of course this 'was only an idle threat, for I should never have the face (though I might have the requisite type of skull). to order a wig as a sone fixture. As I was onlin home enn the | Club-house that same evening it began to drizzle. I turned up the collar of my jacket and pulled my cap v well | pillow - slips. Besides, you ’re forty-five, you know; and any- how,” she went on, “ grey hair at the temples looks most dis- | tingué. I heard Mrs. Middleton say only last Sunday that you. reminded her of Sir GEorGE ALEXANDER. Aren’t you bucked? | You cowdn’t remind her of him unless you were a little teen) y bit grey, could you?’ “Of course I could,” I re-| plied. “Now I come to con- sider it, the actual facial resem- | blance between Sir GrorGE and myself is most marked. Mrs. Middleton is a very observant and intelligent woman. Now, where do I find the black lead, | the tar, the marking-ink, and the walnut-juice ?” ‘Not in my bedroom, at all events,” said Joan. “ Besides you’d much better drop these chemical experiments. The, strain of constantly watching | to see if your hair is getting as | dark as the man’s in the adver- tisement will eventually make you go bald, and how will you like that?” “If I am ever destined to} become bald,” I answered with | some bitterness, ‘‘ I don’t care a | rap what colour I become bald | on. But grey hair which stays in is the hall-mark of advancing age, and age at forty-five has no business to advance. It ought to remain firmly entrenched for another ten years at least—like yours at twenty-eight.” “Then,” said Joan, “I should advise you to try - She paused, and stepping back from her mirror she “ turned once more (and yet once more after that) to set a ring- let right.” “Go on!” I cried. “Don’t keep me on tenterhooks. I’m getting greyer every moment.” “T should advise you to try leaving it alone for a time.” “TI shall get a brown wig,” I. said firmly, as I went back to my own room. KEEN WAR ECONOMIST, ay \ | MN a Asbhd, PROPOSING TO SUBSTITUTE GOLD- FISH FOR THE MORNING KIPPER, FEELS THAT HE OUGHT TO | GIVE THEM A SPORTING CHANCE. down on my - head. I hadn’t gone a! Each to you, in spite of the fact that I’m married, forty-five “ Forty-five!” gasped the Sergeant. “Why, Sir, you ’ve the looks and bear- | in’ of thirty—not a day more. A man | of forty-five’s usually gettin’ a bit grey, while you, Sir, if I may make so bold as to say, wouldn’t know a grey ‘air if you ’ad one. Now when I was in- structin’ the gents of the Bohemian Veterans last month—all men o’ forty and upwards, mark you—there wasn’t one that could ’ ‘ave eld a candle to you in the matter o’ looks, Sir.” ~~~] * Look here, Sergeant,” I said, “if you say any more I shall cry from sheer joie de vivre. I too am a newly joined Bohemian Veteran, as witness this badge. Believe me, you’ve paid me the biggest compliment I have ever received.” And with youth re- newed I proceeded on my way. “Joan,” I called out as we | were dressing for dinner, “ look- ‘ing in the glass just now I ‘became of the opinion that I am not so grey as [ was this | morning.” “ Perhaps,” Joan called back, “you don’t feel so grey as you did this morning?” “No, I certainly don’t,” I answered with enthusiasm. “ Sergeant, long life to you!” “Who in the world are you talking to?” cried Joan. The Considerate Foe. ‘¢ All the ships which have been in | action had fragments of German | shells which had come on _ board mounted as mementoes.”’ The Scotsman. ‘*Mr. M. H. Chandrana, a leading | | Hindu bowler, achieved a remarkable feat taking all the ten wickets in an innings, and the still more remark- able one of clean blowing ten men.”’ Allahabad Leader. retiring batsman: “ Well, I’m hundred yards when, as I passed aj, blowed!”’ recruiting-booth at the side of the road, I suddenly felt a hand placed upon my | shoulder, and a gruff but genial voice | exclaimed : “Well, my lad, why aren’t you in khaki?” I started in amazement. ‘*PooLE GUARDIANS AND USE OF Liquor. The Poole Board of Guardians received a letter | yesterday from the Local Government Board ‘urging the discontinuance of the use of cube sugar, because of the scarcity of this com- | modity.’ ’—Bournemouth Daily Echo, Nobody The Sub-editor evidently recognises had publicly suggested such a course | only one use for cube sugar. to me before. ‘ My lad,” too! Could | it be that I looked a lad? I turned | and saw a burly, beaming Sergeant | | St. ‘*A largely-attended meeting was held in Jones’s Hall to « arrange for protests against confronting me. Somew hat to his sur- continued party strifes.’ prise I seized his hand and shook it| warmly. mean it literally. —all of it, especially the ‘lad’ part? Because, if you do, Sydney Morning Herald. “ Sergeant,” I said, “do you It would be a good thing if the Cymric Saint would transfer his peace-making from New South Wales to old South I’ve a good mind to hand myself over | Wales.

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nt. UY- | an | BY, ld p if in- an n't ou OO an re, he in in rd ig | le n ke n n mw Vs CO SEPTEMBER 15, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 235 Message, passed by word of mouth—‘‘ ENEMY ADVANCING FROM AMERSHAM’’—reaches the local auctioneer, who sends it on in the following form; ‘‘ Hany ADVANCE ON HAMERSHAM?”’ MY HOLIDAY. WE got there yesterday afternoon. We came back to town hurriedly this morning. It was not much of a holiday. For instance, we found that our boat had to have a permit signed by the “ Officer in charge of Coast-watching Division.” ‘This vessel,” it said, “is allowed to proceed as far as three miles from—(name of port, creek or river to which vessel belongs)—during daylight hours only.” The nature of employment of the vessel was Pleasure, it said. Plea- sure with a label on it and with a possi- bility of its being inspected by “any Officer or other authorised person”’! Besides, “if caught out by fog’”’ we had to “return to shore at once.” On the whole we decided against the boat. Then again our house was on the cliffs. The cliffs were patrolled by guards with fixed bayonets. It was thought safer to play Patience indoors after dark. But I went to bed, bored. Not to sleep, however. There were regulations about lights. So we had all the windows thickly curtained, so thickly indeed that I could hardly breathe in my room. I took it all down when I blew out my candle for the night. The night happened to be rather breezy. Now, when you are staying in a quiet spot, a little wind can make *your bedroom behave in a | peculiarly uncanny manner. Knowing | this from experience, I made what I | imagined to be ample preparations. | I wedged my door with a sock so as to prevent its rattling. I tied all the loose bits of things like curtains and covers into tight knots so that they should not flap. I collected all my papers and put them under the heel of a heavy boot. Then I went to bed. I was deadly tired and was almost asleep in two minutes ; but sure enough something began to scrape. It would give a few jarring notes and then cease for a time. I thought I might sleep in spite of it because I was tired, and | I encouraged myself by thinking of my son in France sleeping under bursting’ shells. It was no use, however. The grating noise got more and more on my nerves. I finally got up and listened carefully with a view to tracking down the disturbance. It proved to be a stray curtain ring. I summarily in- terned it in the nearest knot and went to bed again. I next heard an insistent tapping sound from the neighbourhood of the mantelpiece. I got up at once this time and, approaching cautiously, I found that it was a piece of cardboard —a photograph probably—doing a sort of short-circuit performance against a vase. papers under my boot. A few minutes later I was woke up again. This time the wind was irritat- ing what I imagined to be the wire sus- pending a picture on the wall. down the picture, wrapped it in my dressing-gown, put a chair on it and I rounded that up with the I took | got back to bed with a certain sense of | satisfaction. But when I again heard the same noise from-the identical spot, knowing as I did that there was now nothing on the wall except the wall- paper, [ became desperate. I got up, struck a light and determined to put | my house in order once and for all. I was getting on well with the general | démeublement when I heard footsteps on the path outside. I suddenly re- membered that my curtain was tied up and that my kindly light was probably leading countless German submarines on, so I guiltily blew it out. putting my head out of the window, I demanded stoutly, “‘ Who goes there?” Some one answered, “ Sorry to trouble | you, Sir, but there was a light shining from this house that could be clearly seen out at sea. I have to inform you that only one warning is given; after that it is imprisonment.” It was the Coast-watching Division. As I said before, we came back to town this morning. Then, |

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236 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL [Sepremper 15, 1915, The Filsons then are disappointed, | At least that’s what she did in Sir but, as every stage hero is too proud; ArtTHurR’s version. And I flattered and stupid not to make an enormous | myself that I had taken his point with fuss about these secondary matters of commendable quickness. Knowing Sir money and social standing, Philip, the| Grorcr’s generous weakness for the Pryero was the sole author. Now I} white-souled, must needs accept their interpretation of truiy noble characters, understand that he has complacently | vulgar point of view and add to the ten he had played off Philip Mackworth collaborated with the British Public, |long years of separation by inserting a with his high disdain of manufactured and that the new part-author, with | clause in his agreement with Ottoline boom, his fidelity to his old love's customary vanity, thinks the play) that there shall be no question of mar- memory, his (unnecessarily) long and vastly improved. Yet I suspect Sir riage till his undoubted success as an impassioned speeches and those fine Artuur to be the better judge of his author shall have enabled him to put moments just before the end when he own business; and if I venture a up roughly the same amount of cash|contrives so rapidly to make himself AT THE PLAY. “Tae Bia Drum.” I HAPPENED to see that version of The Big Drum of which Sir ArtHuR private theory of the affair it is because | I prefer to hold the dramatist guilty of | a much lighter crime than this appar- ently callous sand-bagging of his own offspring. Philip Mackworth, the highbrow hero | and cachet. Well, you will have guessed that Mackworth’s book is a hit. Not his usual eighteen hundred or so, but| twenty-five thousand solid copies are sold. There is no holding our author. believe love to be well lost for the (entirely delusive) hope of success with his next novel—as the hero of this odd slice of life. Whereas in fact, as Ottoline and I (and Sir ArrHur) knew, the authentic hero was Sir Timothy, of The Big Drum, was ten years ago an| Windy enough in prospect he is posi-; who understood how to worship with obscure journalist, writing pars from Paris for The Whitehall Gazette. He was' in love with Ottoline Filson, the beautiful daughter of a rich and pushful yulgarian. Filson pére hadn't made such a social hit in Paris as all that, so he planned a raid on London, and Ottoline asked Philip just to prepare the way in one of his bright little pars, and so make the job a shade softer. Where- upon, hating nothing quite so much as this disgusting pub- licity, Philip drew himself up and bowed her irrevocably out of the room into the waiting arms of the Comte de Chaumié, with whom she lived unhappily some nine years, until she was very mercifully widowed. A year later, at which time our play begins, a_ kindly designing friend asks Ottoline and Philip to lunch, to such effect that with their usual hasty impulsiveness they promptly become engaged—a First Act that promises plenty of true-lovers’ knots. Ottoline is rich; Philip, now a novelist, poor; but in his opinion (I must in candour note that all the available evidence was the other way) he is on the eve of an enormous popular success with his novel, The Big Drum, a satire on the modern arts of notoriety. Randle Filson, by this a knight, and with his lady beating a more persistent drum than most, has visions of a second brilliant match for Ottoline, though why from that point of view she shouldn't have done better as the Comtesse de Chaumié than as the wife of Sir Timothy Barradell, the Irish bacon baronet, whom her family is so eager to catch, is one of those things that a fellow in the stalls can never be expected to understand. Ottoline Philip Mackworth . . . tively gusty in realisation. And here Fate dealt him a shrewd A HOLLOW BOOM. Miss IRENE VANBRUGH. Sir GrorGE ALEXANDER. de Chaumié .. blow. For, as it happened, Oétoline, | who apparently hadn’t any great faith in The Big Drum, had been to the knave publisher and bought twenty - three thousand odd and stored them in a damp cellar. No wonder Phil was annoyed when all this was explained just before what promised to be a rip- ping little dinner. So he drew himself up a second time and bowed Ottoline out of his life—only, after a haggard night, to send her a noble note of en- treaty and forgiveness. Ottoline crossed it, coming to say that she loved him enormously but couldn’t possibly tear him from his art; also she knew that, having been born, as you might say, with a big-drum-stick in her hand, she would never be able to resist booming him and so spoiling his life. So she just gives him one lovely lingering look | and goes off to marry Sir Timothy, | leaving Philip to console himself with | the MS. of The Big Drum’s successor. | a proper tenderness and loyalty and would never draw himself up in dis- dainful surprise. We also knew not only that there never was in Philip’s head any novel worth a fiver in advance , on account of royalties, but === perfectly intolerable husband. ARTHUR had played this quite appropriate and pleasant joke on Sir Greorce for a_ bet. Well, he won his bet hand- somely. The actor-manager had been fairly taken in! Yet has the latter the last and longest laugh. For I under- stand that the discerning collaborateur to whom I have alluded has restored Ottoline to the arms of her egregious Philipand Sir Timothy drops out of the picture. I can only say that she will live to regret it; as will Philip, for she is nothing if not a woman of resourceful | candour when roused. There cannot be much in this revised version to modify substantially my first- night’s admiration of the players ; of Sir GrorGE ALEXANDER’S firm hold upon his ever loyal audience; Miss IRENE Van- BRUGH's charming and sensitive talent, her gowns and her pretty sub-Parisian | flavours; Sir Randle Filson’s pompous purposeful pushfulness as interpreted by Mr. ALLAN AYNESWORTH in a supremely good make-up; Mr. Norman Forses as Robbie Roope with his tactfully iterated “dear excellent friend” and his mirth- provoking grey felt hat; and perhaps most of all Mr. Leonarp Boyne’s charmingly sympathetic sketch of the ‘sporting little Irish grocer - baronet, | Sir Timothy Barradell, with the queer tenderness and gaiety and pathos of him. Such excellent artistry no change of ending can alter. that he would have made a | I frankly assumed that Sir |

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® PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | SEPTEMBER 15, 1915.] ABOUT THE ZELLEPIN ! ‘*‘ NEVER MIND, DARLING, YOU SHALL SEE IT NEXT TIME—IF YOU’RE VERY GOOD.”’ EVERYBODY SAW IT BUT ME. ( Zee c = = Wuy DIDN’T YOU WAKE ME?”’ | | ‘*OH, MOTHER, I po THINK IT UNFAIR | | |AN ECHO OF “THE BIG DRUM.” | Ort-trmEs I used to wonder why | The hero of some well-staged story | Was finally compelled to die Or send the heroine to glory, | When—so at least it seemed to me— Their night of tears might dawn in laughter, And by a pen-stroke both might be Made happy ever after. | } | know | That I for one would be delighted If at the last young Romeo | To Juliet were reunited ; In super-ecstasies I'd fall Tf, ere the closing scene were ended, A happy Hamlet after all Married his young Intended. But ah! what boots it thus to pine O’er by-gone tales of sad disaster ; Rather I greet the welcome sign Vouchsafed us by a modern master That “ Tragedy” has had her day, And only apathy arouses, While optimistic authors play Nightly to well-filled houses. Take Win~u1AM SHAKSPEARE, now. I | And oh! that others in our age | Who conjure up our coming crash on The European battle-stage Might follow this dramatic fashion— Might find ’twere well for them, in fact, | To popular conviction bending, | If they could see the final act Must have a happy ending. “SavE HIM FROM BEING SHOT.— Wanted, good town home by . . . obe- dient, affectionate, remarkably clever ; goes for long walks with dogs... early riser; teetotal.” The above advertisement is not, as you might think, for the protection of a nice, good young man from the designs of the recruiting authorities or the horrors of National Service ; it is a plea for the preservation of a ‘“ beautiful pale golden Cat” whose “only fault” is that he “ goes for chickens.” A small child, being asked to outline her idea of a suitable future for Germany and the KarsEr, wrote as follows :— « After the War I wouldn’t let Heligo- land belong to anybody. I would put the Germans there, and they should dig and dig and dig until it was all dug into the sea. The Katser should be sent to America, and they should be as rude as they liked to him. If he went in a train no one was to offer him a seat; he was to hang on to a strap, and he is to be called Mr. Smith.” We learn from The Croydon Guardian that, although the cast of The Moulin Rouge Revue, at the local Grand Theatre, “includes many artists of Parisian renown,” “the venue will be in English,” a language which they have been learning at the London Pavilion. It would seem that this is not their first notable achievement, for we are told that “all the male members have been to the font,’ and are ex- empt from further service. They have, in fact, in the vulgar phrase, gone through their baptism of fire. Balm for Lord Kitchener. Extract from 2/1 8. Midland Brigade Orders :— ‘‘The Brigadier congratulates all ranks in the Brigade on the smart appearance presented at the Inspection to-day by the Secretary of State for War.’’

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238 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL (SepreMBER 15,1915, WOAD. Pernars I ought to explain that, on the strength of a_ great-aunt who was an American, it sometimes pleases | Francesca to assume the ‘airs and the ambitions and the graces of a true American. This was oné of her American days, and she had been picturing to herself and to me certain desirable things that would have attended her had it really been her lot to be born on the other side of the Atlantic. “ Francesca,” I said, ‘when you were a dweller on the boundless and rolling prairie “ Yes,” she interrupted, ‘and when you were roaming through the forests in a complete suit of woad.” “Woad?” Isaid. “ What is woad?”. © © | «“There’s no ‘is’ about woad,” she said. . ‘“ Woad’s all, in the ‘was’ department. It was a blue stain habitually | worn by the Anéient Britons. Dark blue, Lhope. There’s something too négligé about light blue. It could hardly count as clothes, could it? Anyhow, woad was the Ancient Briton’s all-the-year-round dress. You ordered it at the grocery stores.” “The grocety?” I said. with it?” ’ : “Every grocer in England,” she said, {‘ calls himself an oil and colourman. - So in the-brave old days you dropped in on Mr: Baker-in the High Street, a stout man and there- fore probably a’ Druid, wearing long white robes and a wreath of oak-leavés; and you told him that last lot of woad was very poor stuff; your knees and elbows were beginning to show through already ; and he'd tell you he'd just got in a new consignment warranted not to run in the | “ What had the grocer to do a dreadful fact.” “Or Kine Caractacus,” said Francesca. “ Yes,” I said, “or possibly to QUEEN Boapicra; and it wouldn’t havé been a bit of good talking to me like a true American citizen. Being an Ancient Briton I should probably lave had to beat you, and it would have been \useless for you to appeal to the American® Ambassador. He would have had to tell you you’d brought it-on your- self. I’ve explained this to you a thousand times.” “ And I’ve réfused to understand it ten thousand times. You can’t persuade-me that if I had been an American you would have turned me into a Boadicean by merely M4 ” | Marrying me. “T’m not,” I said, “trying to persuade you.. I’m stating “And I’m defying your fact,” she said. ‘If my great- aunt, who was a Slingsbee, were alive, you couldn’t make her believe that, just because she married Mr. John Brabazon of Yorkshire, she wasn’t to be proud any longer of the embattled farmers and the Pilgrim Fathers, and New York /harbour, and the American Constitution and the Stars and Stripes.” “No,” I said, “ I daresay I couldn’t, but I should tell her that she must mix envy with her pride, as I do, for as soon 'as she married your uncle John all these splendid things ceased to be hers.” ‘ “And that,” said Francesca, ‘‘was most unjust. All I can say is I hope Auntie never heard of it. She was very hot-tempered, I remember, and ‘she ‘ guessed’ a good deal and said ‘ bo-id’ instéad of ‘bird,’ and she wouldn’t have liked to be told she wasn’t ah “American by a man who didn’t know what woad was.” “T admit,” I said, “that it had escaped my memory; but rain; and you'd buy a can of it and carry it home and what of that? A man cannot always remember every- paint the whole family,.and then we'd all go out and show thing.” ourselves to the village in our new dresses a | “No,” she said, “but he might sometimes remember “Yes,” I said enthusiastically, “and we should have! something.” little placards hung round our necks to say we were wet| «It is our system of education,” I said. “Our English paint and people mustn’t rub against us.” | public schools are champions at teaching us to forget the ‘Oh, that wouldn’t matter; they ’d all be in woad too.” | useless things—-—Latin, for instance, and Greek and French “It would matter very much,” I said. “You wouldn't and Algebra. If I’ve forgotten more Algebra than you, want the neighbours to carry off any of the paint we had jt’s only because I once knew more.” E just paid for out of our own pockets.” | “T have solved,” said Francesca, “more than one quad- “Pockets!” she laughed. ‘There weren't any pockets. ratic equation.” You just let the account run up and then you handed a | sheep in over the counter and got a receipt from the oil and | colourman. Oh, it was glorious to live in Britain in the | ancient days!” “ Cheap,’ I said, “rather than glorious.” * Cheap,” said Francesca, “and therefore glorious. You | could dress yourself and me and three growing girls and | one small boy during a whole year for about half a sheep, and nobody ever complained that the bills were too high.” “And that,” I said, “is just where you’re wrong. If you had married an Ancient Briton e “Which is precisely what I have done,’ murmured Francesca. “Tf,” I repeated sternly, “you had married an Ancient Briton he would often have assured you that his account | at the bank had been reduced to two sheep, a cow and the sirloin of an ox, and that if this sort of thing went on he would be ruined.” « And I,” said Francesca, “should have been quite frank and direct with him. I should-have asserted myself as an American citizen and answered him in that style.” “But,” I said, “you couldn’t have been an American citizen, you know, even supposing you had started like that, which you haven’t. By marrying me you would have become an Ancient British subject, owing allegiance to Kina CassivELLAUNUS sf “Which,” I said, ‘‘ was a very unwomanly thing to do. It is strange that you should boast of it.” “ But,” she continued, “if I had been an American I should have insisted on introducing you to the Tower of London, St. Paul’s Cathedral and the National Gallery.” “And I should have retaliated by taking you to the Falls of Niagara and a silver-mine in Colorado.” “Take care,’ she said. “I have a Staffordshire coal- mine in reserve.” “ And I should haye trumped you with the Bunker Hill monument.” ‘* We'll leave it at that,” she said. imaginary recriminations ?” “ Agreed,” I said; “ but, you know, you began it. You interrupted me with a perfectly frivolous remark about woad, when I was going to say something very important, and now it’s gone clean out of my head.” “Don’t worry about coaxing it back,” she said. try to exist without it.” R. C. L. “ Why pursue these ‘**POPE ENDEAVOURS TO ENLIST PRESIDENT WILSON IN CAUSE OF PEACE.”’ Dundee Evening Telegraph. For the moment we quite thought the Pontiff had taken the Krvxe’s lira. “DL a ie, rae ot ee ee a oe

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115, ind it u true hould been saclor. your- imes. rican erely | ating rreat- e her &Z0N f the York | Stars | l her soon lings All I very deal have who - but very- nber elish the ench you, uad- | » do. an I ar of | : the coal- Hill hese You bout fant, ‘DL L. SerreMBER 15, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE Pe ew Old Dresser (to Veteran Actor making up to play ‘ GET 'ISSING YOU FOR NOT ’LISTING.”’ tomeo’’). L WAR RISKS. ONDON CHARIVART Se Se ‘*T WOULDN'T MAKE YOURSELF TOO YOUNG, Sir, CASE THEY MIGHT | | | the Upper Middle Class. | (HoppER AND StouGutTon), finds him dealing as faithfully | as ever with his chosen victims. OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. (By Mr. Punch’s Staff of Learned Clerks.) Mr. E. F. Benson is now firmly established as the chief satirist of what one calls (for want of a less vulgar term) His latest book, The Oakleyites Oakley is a place some- what easy of identification, a sleepy, picturesque little town, | once a seaport, now rising from a waste of level marsh- | land, where “when in dusky Autumn evenings the low sea-mist creeps up over the level, it is easy to imagine that the retreated waters have swept silently back again, and lap the base of Oakley Hill, ready to bear up to the walls of the town freights of fantastic and ghostly merchandise.” Here dwell a group of characters, chief among whom is Miss Dorothy Jackson, whose middle-aged love story with | its poignant end Mr. Benson tells with much beauty of manner. of criticism that it reveals its hero, a popular novelist, as a rather foolish and gullible fellow. But it may well be that popular novelists, in human actuality, are like that. Mr. Benson probably knows. Indeed, I had a passing wonder whether in Wilfred Easton he was not poking gentle fun at the creator of a certain Dodo, now extinct. But tender and full of genuine feeling as is his picture of Dorothy, it is once again the subsidiary persons who make the book. There is a Christian Scientist lady, for example, who is glorious fun; one with whom “all ways led to I shall not repeat the story, saying only by way | | Mrs. Eddy,” and all that was conversationally possible for | her friends was to lengthen out the way. And not even | Mr. Benson has written anything more bitingly humorous than the episode of the three sisters each striving to select the most valuable legacy from a collection of rubbish. You can hardly read it for laughter; yet the fidelity of its observation is almost painful. Both for satire and senti- ment, in short, The Oakleyites is a book to be ordered. It would be a rotten thing for anyone who sits at home driving a safe quill to let himself go in any criticism of trivial detail in such a document as Miss May Sincrair’s A Journal of Impressions in Belgium (HutTcHINsoN) with a motor ambulance. We must just gratefully accept it as it comes, with its curious and no doubt entirely truthful impressions of fears and laughter, of big things and little things oddly huddled together, of anxiety about the shape of the Commandant’s hat and of dreadful visions of blood and tears. There can be no doubt that Miss Sinciarr and her companions, the Commandant (a courageous and apparently untrained man), two doctors, two stretcher- bearers and five women, including the author, carried a fine spirit and resourcefulness into devastated Belgium, did their excellent bit and had the time of their lives. It is nice to think of that young English girl, Ursuta DEARMER, who took with complete calm the bursting of a shell ten yards from her, and to contrast generally the author’s candid | suggestions of fear and dismay before the exciting events, and of imperturbable serenity during and after them.

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210 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL [SerTemMBer 15, 1915, Readers of her journal will have the satisfaction not only of getting a sense of atmosphere conveyed by a clever pen, but of helping the Red Cross, to whose funds the author is handing over all her royalties. “Well,” said Mary Moreland, “she’s yours !’’—meaning herself. She said it on the last page of the book, but as a matter of fact she had been his, quite unavoidably, from the first; and this notwithstanding that he started with a wife and other obstacles to the happy ending. He was the hero of Mary Moreland (Mi.us anp Boon), also incidentally the employer of that young lady in the capacity of typist. So he loved her, and, being excusably bored by his legitimate spouse, asked Mary to fly with him. But she wouldn’t, having a big soul and being a heroine; also, probably, because she knew quite well that this kind of sentimental- American fiction is built on the Pamela-or- Virtue-Rewarded lines, and that she was bound to be a safe | winner in the end. Which, as you see, happened; but not ‘forget to stamp a letter or fail to abate a smoky chimney, to Mr. Lonpoy, it is the custom for prison-wardens and prison-warders to torture the convicts, not intermittently _when the whim seizes them, but all the time. The Jacket ‘is a second Jungle. But somehow I suspect Mr. Lonpoy, |He is one of those American wielders of the muck-rake who can make a sensitive subject believe any horrors by sheer force of eloquence. He could write an account of the squashing of a wasp which would convince you that the man-who did it was a second Tirpitz. The feeling I had after reading The Jacket was that nothing should induce me ever to go to the United States. Why, I might and then what would happen? Fifty years in the peni- tentiary. Fifty years in solitary confinement, with large warders jumping on my chest all the time, stopping only for meals. It is too great a risk. For Mr. J. E. Parrerson’s sincerity, both in his previous work and in His Father's Wife (ALLEN AnD Unwin), I have | before Marre Van Vorst had an abundant admiration. It is, | written a long story about it, which may please those who like this kind of thing. Per- sonally I found it not quite worthy of my pleasant memo- ries of Big Tremaine. There are certainly lots of love in it, dollars, as they say, “to taste,” and, in short, all the ingredients of a popular success. Such success seems perhaps a little easier in America than with us. There is a fine simplicity about the reading public there; without an effort they rise superior to the irritation produced by what ©) SSAA Y yo R2L¢G LE FS | ‘however, a quality that may be | worked to excess, and in this | tragedy of East Anglian farmers | ‘Mr. ParTrerson seems to have been overwhelmed by _ the ‘thought that to be sincere is the one and only duty of a novelist. When Aaron Rugwood, a widower with a grown-up son, marries a young girl, one begins ito foresee the painful situation that is developed with infinite care and ability. But all the care and ability in the world could not make me anxious to read of the love between a youth and his | S1 LENCE | ' in an English writer we should | ~ call quite detestable style; re- | maining unruffled, for example, | when a character is spoken of | as “making an exit” when all that the author means is that | he went out. Still, after all, what 7s style compared with heart-interest ? When the con- —————_— maar veniently widowered Maughm clasps Mary to his millionaire bosom, who bothers about refinements of speech? A pleasant, undistinguished tale of the best-seller variety ; you can take, or leave, it at that. EDITORIAL PERSONAGE DI WHISTLING COMIC SONG IN PESSIMISTIC HABIT. - I wonder how Mr. Jack Lonvon would have written | Trilby. I suppose he would have thrown a lurid light on the hideous brutalities of art-student life in Paris, and his Little Billee would have been a sort of combination of cireus giant and homicidal lunatic. At any rate it is on those lines that, in his latest voleano of frenzied fiction, The Jacket, erupting from the offices of Messrs. MILLs AND Boon, he has re-written Du Maurier’s Peter Ibbetson. Like Peter, Darrell Standing, while serving a life-sentence for murder, picked up the habit of projecting his soul from his body and sending it travelling through all the lives he, had lived on this earth in previous incarnations. In their central idea the two books are identical. It is in their atmosphere that they differ. None of Du Maurier’s gentle, | haunting wistfulness for Mr. Lonpon. No, Sir! TZhe' Jacket is not so much a book as a yell. It bursts on the reader, and stuns and deafens him. I had to stop reading own stepmother ; and this is the tragedy given to us in a series of scenes impressive enough but ,very gloomy. For the rest the events on Ltoger Rugwood’s boat are as Pattersonesque as you can desire, and the farmers, with their jealousies and junketings, — ' are tremendously alive. If only Ttoger could have been more in love with the sea and less with his father’s wife I feel that Mr. Parrerson’s book would have lost but little of its power and would at the same time have been far pleasanter to read. SCHARGING OFFICE-BOY FOR OFFICE OF NEWSPAPER OF The Instrumentalists. [Among the presents received by Mlle. Janorua, the deported pianist, was a jewelled lyre from the KalIsEr. ] Still music has charms for the ugliest brute ; This applies both to son and to sire, For the Crown Prince retains all his love for the loot While his father still doats on the lyre. The Pibroch Cure. ‘* And almost at the same moment the dumb man put his hand on a very hot water piper, and to his amazement and the astonishment of the doctors and nurses recovered his speech.’’—Evening Paper. ‘‘The fact is that there has been continual cress-fertilization of science. The those who remind us that Hertz, for instance, stood on the shoulds Fitzgerald, it may be answereds of Mended that Bateson stands on the shoulders of Mendel; and both statements would be it every few pages—to rest. You see, Darrell Standing was | ridiculously far off adequate accuracy.’’—China Mail. immured in an American prison, and in America, according | We agree.

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J15, is and tently Jacket INDON, k-rake ors by unt of u that ‘ling I should might mney, - peni- large gz only evious [ have It is, ay be | 1 this | rmers . have the ere is of a ywood, p son, begins uation ifinite e care could ead of nd his is the series sh but st the s boat 3 you , With tings, f only d less book ut. the sported e loot and on hment er. tion of ood on sateson uld be | gracious in responding to these appeals. SEPTEMBER 22, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 241 l Count Bernstorrr has stated to an | CHARIVARIA. interviewer that all difficulties between | Lonpon’s new watchword—‘ Scott Germany and America will be settled | strafe ZEPPELIN.” within a fortnight, “ because I am in + % charge now.” A lot of trouble would President Witson has excused his have been saved if he had been arrested | inability to speak at a patriotic celebra- | six months ago. tion next month by saying that “ ques- ve tions turn up so suddenly and have to, By a large majority the Croydon be handled so promptly ” that he dare Guardians resolved last week not to not let his thoughts go out to other insure the ratepayers’ property against matters. It is not yet five months, for| damage by aircraft, after one member example, since the Lusitania was sunk.| had besought them not to give way to +9 panic “ because of little things that had | A German airship recently dropped a bone inscribed with a mes- - sage to Sir Epwarp Grey. The skull and the other part | N SQ _- . A of merriment is that the Members of Parliament had confused the Leader of the Opposition with another person of the same name. kx * Some of our popular authors regard the decision of the Lambeth Libraries’ |Committee to purchase no more novels during the War as most unfair. The Committee allege that “ fiction in war- time should be regarded as more or less of a luxury "—and yet they con- tinue to purchase large numbers of newspapers. happened in the London district.” We) * ~———~__ The men polishers employed at a chair-making factory are reported to have struck because of the trade-mark have not Ze wrrezcn BS the women workers were given yet been traced. ; | % SY OYS] ERS N easy jobs, while they had to +* \\ Ag _“ _,wv N take the more difficult. These ‘ - ‘ \ SS SS r | de N "tod In a list of expressions of \ l ESN - y) 6 itd N \. | we suppose, are the arm-chair French or English origin still SSS eect patriots we hear so mueh appearing in the German Press W SG. GQ IN"No PRICE CAN NW : about. as we find the word “zivilisa- y WSN SEA MIN Vi ’ tion.” This is, of course, a = NN BE TOO HIGH Remarking on a well-known tribute to the Katser’s air- \Y WHEN HONOUR men, who prefer to introduce civilisation with a “ Z.” AVINY AND LIBERTY N) \\V ARE AT STAKE” MY AsquiTH In a discussion with Sir R. BaDEN-PowWELL regarding the proper length for a lance the | GERMAN Emperor said,‘“‘Ifind| 4 that for every inch that you! put on to a man’s lance you give him two feet of self- esteem.”” We could give an estimate of the length of the Kaiser's own lance; but there is no room for it on this page. * Vi /) ok a ~ 1"), 4 4, YUM A BVI) Yy HELLY cipalities frequently request We have it on the authority } the German authorities to safeguard their works of art. of the German wireless that| 7, “7% fur Tn The Crown PRINCE and his private individuals and muni- brother Joacnm™ have been especially © FHOWKENS 975 A HAPPY COLLOCATION. are glad that at least one of the Croydon | Bumbles has repudiated the motto} * ‘“‘ Buzziness as usual.” In its campaign for economy the “—" Lokalanzeiger has been urging the German public not to require shop- keepers to tie up their parcels, pointing out that “the hemp used for string is needed for the army and navy.” Having regard to some of the doings of the said army and navy we cordially agree. Extract from a facetious German spy’s report to his Government :— “The success of the visit of the Zeppe- | lins was colossal. In every street an air- | raided bread-shop is to be observed.” | “Mr. Chaplin said he only rose lest, | sitting on the same bench as the hon. | and gallant gentleman, his silence might appear to give consent to the views expressed. (Laughter.)” Mr. AsquitH | (later) :—‘‘I entirely associate myself with what was said by the right hon. gentleman who leads the Opposition. (Laughter).”” The only inference we can | | draw from these mysterious outbursts | A story is going the rounds of a soldier who caught a horse during the retreat from Mons and sold it to a gunner for a packet of Woodbines. The excellence of the bargain has probably been exaggerated; it may have been merely an exchange of weeds. \Ae =e. , Huonados a hye 4 \\ \)\ journal’s description of itself \\ ‘as “The paper that gets things done,” a correspondent con- siders that the quotation from |‘Brownina’s “Rabbi Ben | Ezra” might have been com- | pleted — “Things done, that ‘took the eye and had the | price.” + A correspondent reminds us ‘of Falstaff?'s confession, “I ‘have misused the King’s Press 'damnably,” as a suitable quo- tation for the times, but we | fail to catch his meaning. | og We hear that a dear old \lady who had a Zeppelin pass ‘exactly over her house has ‘taken the precaution of stay- ling indefinitely with friends 'two doors down the road, A New Title to Fame. ‘‘ Brevet-Major Longcroft will be remem- bered as the first airman who piloted a machine over Kirriemuir.’’—Kirriemur Free Press. Where's your J. M. Barrie now ? ‘«Mr. Cotter adduced his own experience at inquiry on loss of Lusitania as proof of need for giving a statue to trade union officials.” Portsmouth Evening News. For some of them, perhaps, a bust would be more appropriate. From a Russian communiqué :— ‘‘This morning south of the town the offen- sive passed into our hands, inflicting heavy punishment on the Germans and Christians.” Eastern Morning News. A justifiable distinction. VOL. CXLIX. N

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242 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. [SEPTEMBER 22, 1915, TO A SOLDIER M.P., HOME FROM THE FRONT. (Affectionately inscribed to Colonel AnrHur LEE.) [I confess I am a bit weary of the ‘ Voice from the Trenches’ and the ‘ Message from the Front’ when they . . . take the form of complaint and criticism of what we are thought to be doing at home. These good fellows are excellent in their line and place; but when they come here and lecture us they are out of their depths, and are talking about something they do not understand.”—Sir T. Wuir- TAKER, M.P., in “The Daily News,” quoted by Colonel Anruur Ler, M.P., im the House.) On leave for just a slight repose, You have to bear with patient head The sniffy patronage of those Whom you have guarded safe in bed; Who though they never touched a gun Can teach you how a war is run. Coming from where no store is set On eloquence, except of deeds, Modestly on your feet you get To talk about the Army’s needs; And learn that out in foreign lands No one can tell where England stands. You are of those “good fellows’”’ whom, “ Excellent in their line and place,” WairtakER (doughty knight) would doom To hold their tongues with humble grace And read the illuminating tracts Of those at home who have the facts. What should you know about the War Who only know it on the spot? The things outside your billet’s door Are much too near and much too hot; Distance alone can lend the true, The cool, dispassionate point of view. Besides, you’ve lost your status here ; Elected by the People’s Voice You turned from that exalted sphere Declining on a lowlier choice ; So long away, you seem to wear Almost an alien’s doubtful air. Better go back across the seas! And leave these Whittakers to loose Their party-nostrums at their ease— For such the soldier has no use, Finding the facts of life and death Too large for any shibboleth. O. S. UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER. No. XXVII. (From Dr. Dumpa.) Ir your High-esteemful Majesty sees no violent impro- priety in such a course, I propose to permit myself to convey to you a few thoughts which have been brought about in my mind by the recent events of which your gracious Majesty has doubtless deigned to hear. Well, for the moment the game is up, and our activities, which promised so valuable a result, cannot any more be prolonged. Certainly it was a master-plan—and for that I have to thank my friend BernstorrF—to endeavour to promote disaffection and strikes in American workshops which were engaged in manufacturing munitions of war for our enemies; but I regret to say that, owing to two causes, this campaign was only partially successful. In the first place many—I might almost say most of those appealed to, though they were unquestionably subjects of the Austro-Hungarian Empire- Kingdom, were by race Croatians and as such bore but little love to the State from which, to put it in their own words, they had escaped. They made most disrespectful references to the Agram conspiracy trial, in which, as you may remember, my Imperial Royal Lord and Master was seriously defeated, and our Government sustained great loss of credit for having allowed its agents to forge the evidence on which the prosecution was based. What could it do? If it had not forged the evidence there would have been no evidence at all, and then there could have been no prosecution. But it was important that these knaves should be prosecuted and convicted of their crime, even if they had momentarily abstained from committing it. I am sure your Majesty will know what I mean and will have sympathised with the object our Government had at heart. The regrettable thing was that we were found out, with the result that all Croatians have since become disloyally suspicious of our motives. They actually prefer making munitions for our enemies to trusting in the benevolent sentiments of my Imperial and Royal Master and his heaven - inspired Government. And now I come to the second cause of my ever-to-be- regretted failure. Like the Government at Agram, I was found out. Very indiscreetly, as I now see, I entrusted to an American a letter to my chief. The American allowed him- self to be stopped and rummaged by the British authorities ; the letter was discovered and was immediately made public. The American Government saw a chance of doing some- thing which had the appearance of being strong and decisive without any possible risk, and it has requested my Government to recall me. What a hell-brew for me to have to swallow! I confess I writhe when I think of BernstorFr. The sly fox has done things ten times as unambassadorial as anything I have ever done, but he didn’t put pen to paper and therefore he remains comfort- ably at Washington and is still able to scheme and bribe and interfere for the benefit of your Majesty and for his own great satisfaction. How blindly fate sports with us ! There is one point in which my experience of the Americans may be useful to your Majesty. You have sometimes—may I say it ?—appeared to act towards this people as if you were timid of offending and provoking them. I think you are wrong. The Americans are not really to be feared. They boast about their greatness and their strength, and the magnificence of their star-spangled banner, and they expect all the world to take them at their own valuation. They have been accustomed to twist the tail of the British lion, and the British lion has contemptu- ously acquiesced, and the Americans have thus gained the idea that all the nations of the world will bow down and submit to them. But if any nation were to stand up to them and show fight I am convinced this boasting would cease, and you would see them grovelling in the dust and submitting to every humiliation rather than push even a just claim to the risk of a conflict.. What, indeed, could they do? They have no army; two or three submarines could terrorise or destroy their fleet, and then where would they be? Let there be no more truckling, but let a strong policy be adopted towards these braggarts. Pardon me if I have spoken strongly. On the truth of what I have said I am willing to stake the reputation of Constantin Duma. ‘*MarriaGEs.—Sept. 4 quietly, owing to the war at the Parish Church, St. Asaph.’’—Liverpool Echo. This must not be confused with the other War going on just now in Europe.

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s of | race rom ped. ram my ted, for hich had once But uted ily esty vith able t all our our my ired )- he- was oan 1im- les ; blic. yme- and my e to x of S$ as 5 he fort- ribe his us ! the nave this king not and gled heir the ptu- the and p to ould and en a ould “ines ould rong » if I said BA. -arish g on

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THE IMPS OF WAR. THE TROUBLE I’VE TAKEN WITH YOU DISAPPOINT ME.” CHAR [VARI.—SerreEMBER 22, 1915. I MUST SAY THAT, AS

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| bridge and stood in the same attitude | indeed. PUNCH, OR SEPTEMBER 22, 1915.] THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. Frank | Wis Sympathetic Recruit (whose pal has had his ears boxed by exasperated Sergeant). ‘*’E The Injured One. ‘‘It DON’T MATTER IF ’E DID OUGHT OR IF ’E DIDN’T OUGHT, ’E S pv on PsP ae — a —— —_ ne SSS SSNS DIDN’T OUGHT TO DO THAT, DID ’E?”’ DUN IT, DIDN'T 'E?”’ e : con tary in themselves, although, taken in ON BELLONA’S HEM. conjunction with the khaki, and the red THE Important PassENGER. ‘on the cap, and the attitude, so com- I saw him immediately we rounded | manding, so conquering? But hitherto, the engine of the boat-train at Folke-| unless 1 was mistaken, they had usually stone and had sight of the ship. There | been surmounted by a tall hat. Khaki he stood, “ all over khaki,” as someone | had never before been their concomitant. expressed it, with his legs wide apart, To-day however khaki breaks out upon as though before the fire waiting for | the strangest figures, especially perhaps dinner after a day’s hunting, and with|in Paris at lunch-time in the best eight inches of cigar protruding from | restaurants. his mouth at exact right angles to his! After a while, the third or fourth ruddy physiognomy. He was on the| cigar being burnt out, my hero descended deck facing the gangway, and there he| and, proceeding to the principal private stood scrutinizing the passengers until| cabin, opened it with a key and dis- the luggage had all been swung aboard, appeared within. Here was another |a matter of a cigar and a-half. He|token of authority and distinction—a then without a quiver ascended the|/key. I too have occupied cabins, but no key was ever in their locks. With his departure the deck seemed \to become a simpler, more domestic | place. At Boulogne I saw him again. He Hitherto he had fascinated me by his| had now a swollen and very official- aplomb and suggestion of the govern-|looking leather case in his hand, ing class; my eyes were now to pursue | another cigar in his mouth, and he him for his importance. Who could! walked right off the boat amid salutes he be? There was something familiar | what time we others were huddling in about his features. Surely I had some- | a dense mass outside the smoking-room, where seen pictures, ‘“‘ reading from left | to be passed in review before a French to right,” of those whiskers so unmili- | officer and have our passports stamped ; beside the captain, and it was now, after so unprecedented an action, that I began to realise that here was a nut and just as I at last reached the buffet he was leaving it, still clinging to his | leather case and more important in aspect than ever. It was then that realisation came upon me, for suddenly I remembered having noticed at Victdria that one of King’s Messenger that this was he. real life! fraught with dread secrets was—-all his natural hobbies great man’s way of doing his bit. Yet the question could not but obtrude itself, Was the leather case thus packed? Would documents of real ‘importance be entrusted to one so | marked out not only by nature but art the ship in a humble handbag, being carried by plain insignificant Tom, Dick, or Harry, all unfringed and un- Olympian? Perish the thought! nerve From a _ testimonial to a | specialist :— | “Iam so thankful to have found you out.” the compartments was reserved for a | In a flash I knew | This was that ex- | citing official, so de&r to romance, in | To carry that leather case so | at a standstill—the | and personal inclination for promin- | ence? Was it not possible that the real | despatches were at this moment leaving | | |

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246 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL (Sepremper 22, 1915.

fan herself with a paper bag and gener-| ‘It’s a scandal,” said the widow. A KHAKI COURTSHIP. ke to emphasize her interest in <A “Tt is a scandal, Madam,” said he; I aways travel down to Haslemere | | case. | "you're right ; and the Government are on Saturdays by the 1.19 train from; The Sergeant, spurred by this en- a pack of old women to allow it. But Waterloo, eating my lunch in the train | _couragement, again attacked me. | Kircnener, now—he’s the right man and sleeping afterwards. LastSaturday,; “Are you English ?” said he. in the right place.” however, just as [had undone my sand-} ‘I am not,” said I (being in fact a} ‘ He is that,” said the widow.

wiches and was waiting for the train | mild-faced man with a beard, and Irish} With a growing confidence in each to start, I was disturbed by the sudden’ on my mother’s side). other’s judgment, based on their esti- entry of a gentleman in khaki, whose| “I told you so,” exclaimed the| mates of Lord Krrcnener and myself, three stripes indeed proclaimed him a Sergeant. they proceeded to the discussion of

sergeant, though his bearing and com-| “ “You 're right, Sergeant; you’re| other topics, such as the Zeppelin raids, plexion suggested that he was not likely | quite right,” said the widow, nodding the medical misfortunes of their re- long to remain so. He was heavily|her approval. “He has a German face. spective relations, the thirstiness of burdened; and he climbed into the|It’s a crying shame the way these|the weather and ‘the lonesomeness of carriage at the third attempt with a/Austrians are allowed to go about, “widows. As each subject drew to a puff of relief, struggled across it and | guiding the Zeppelins on to widows | close the Sergeant turned to me as to subsided into the corner opposite _ me. ‘and little children.” 2, dog, whose excessive displays of Having spent a few moments in | Se | affection required periodical dis- collecting himself, he again rose _couragement, and, to his feet and laid the more “T’ve a good mind to do it,” detachable parts of his equip- said he; and then, turning again ment in the rack on the top of to the widow, my soft hat. He then sat down “There’s KITCHENER, now; and, pulling out a large coloured ‘he’s the right man in the right handkerchief, slowly wiped his | place.” forehead. “ He is that,” said the widow Thus comforted he inspected on each occasion, and added at with no sign of false shame the the fifth repetition, “ He is that, other occupants of the carriage. and it’s a marvel to me that he His eye roved without comment ‘should have been content to over the rather pale young clerk remain a bachelor all these | who sat next him and the girl years.’ eating a piece of cake in the There was a long and pregnant corner on the same side. But! _ pause. I observed it dwell with satis- | | I’ve a good mind to do it,” faction, as it reached’the oppo- | said the Sergeant. site corner, upon the ampler qualifications of a lady, evi- dently a widow, whose extensive display of solid metallic orna- ment left little doubt that she

in his tone made me look up;

|to himself, instead of, as here- had at some time received THE “U” CURE. | tofore, to the general company, honourable mention in a pawn- We understand that the cure of Admiral von Trrrirz is | and that his glance had been | broker’s will. Then I looked | taking the form of immersion in hot-water baths of special | transferred from me to the modestly down and submitted construction, The distinguished invalid, we hear, shows widow, who recognized the | without protest to the Sergeant’s |_little improvement, compliment by bridling as effi- inspection of myself. “What are you, then?” said the|ciently as her configuration and the

At the end of a minute or so I looked | Sergeant. multiplicity of her ornaments allowed. up, assuming that it had been satisfac-| “ Trish,” said. I humbly. The solution of our several problems torily concluded, and was not a little| He regarded me suspiciously. indicated by this development seemed disquieted to find the Sergeant still | “T had a cousin,” said he, “that to me entirely satisfactory. I deter- glaring at me. spent a while in Ireland once, and he mined that my presence at least should “That man’s a German,” said he in | didn’t speak like you—no, nor look like not complicate the situation further ; a Scotch kind of voice, as I raised my | you either,” he added. and, the train at that moment drawing eyes ; and then, in default of protest on| He continued to eye me as though | up at Guildford, I made an unobtrusive my part, “I’ve a good mind,” he said, expecting some explanation of this dis- transfer to another carriage. looking round the carriage for sym-|crepancy. Then, as I remained silent, |

pathy—‘“ I’ve a good mind to throw |“ Did you never meet him?” said he. | “In the House of Lords this afternoon him out of the window.” And he) “What was his name?” said I| Lord Kitchener said for last few months front gazed fiercely at me | diplomatically. | held by Allies in West had been practically unchanged. The youth and the girl each looked | “ Robinson,” said he. up, and then resumed their respective) ‘ Never,” said I. functions of reading a newspaper ana “T told you so,” said the Sergeant, | on part of forces in field.’ eating abun. But I observed through |again looking round the carriage for Evening Provincial Paper. the corner of my eye that the widow | approval, and then, measuring my in-| We are very glad to learn that the stiffened herself in her corner and considerable bulk against the size of| continuation of racing in England is proceeded, as soon as she had rearranged | the window, “I’ve a good mind to do not materially affecting the moral of her jewelry to suit this new posture, to it,” said he. our troops at the Front. Wet Kiss 1 Koster Girl f. 2 Trevella 3. ” This did not mean any relaxation of activity |

| | An unusual trace of hesitation | ‘and I observed that his remark | appeared this time to be directed |

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15. w. | 1 he; | it are | But man | each esti- yself, n of aids, re- s of 3s of to a s to : of dis- hee vain Ow; low | 1 at | hat, | ; he | to | 1eSe | ant | it,”” ion Ip; wrk ted | re- ny, | en | he | he | ffi- | he d. | SEPTEMBER 22, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. THE WOES OF A WOUNDED. THE nicest of the nurses According her consent, I made some simple verses To tell her what it meant, That in this best of bowers, Where milk descends in showers, And no one heeds the Powers, I am not quite content. Although my martial fervour Is subject to caprice No competent observer Will grudge me my release ; I may occasion no stir But feel, a modest boaster (To paraphrase the poster), That I’ve performed my piece. In practical phylactics 1’ve done some useful work ; I’ve taught the men some tactics And where bacilli lurk ; But always, on reflection, I note one grave objection— That (to my recollection) I never killed a Turk. With Private Kent, the sniper, I’ve done some prodigies ; I spot the Turkish viper And tell him where it is; Though mine the primal vigour To indicate the figure, The hand that pressed the trigger Was uniformly his. Perhaps, to be quite candid, I’m not cut out for Carn; I slaughter—second-handed, I fire the distant train ; My influence in the trenches May well compare with Frencn’s, | But never a maiden blenches To know that I have slain. All this impairs my pleasure, As poets hate to see Some almost perfect measure Not quite what it should be; Yet have I consolation For having failed the nation— By some miscalculation They never finished me. From experts’ truthful stories I do my best to learn ; They all agree that war is A murdering concern ; And since it seems my presence Adds nothing to its essence, I feel a mere excrescence And simply shan’t return. A workman’s report after an air- raid :— ‘Two booms fell close to my house. One exploded in a field; the other was one of them insanitary booms and didn’t do much harm.”’ Not a boom, but a slump, in fact. ! | | ee s- p SX SS th aS ——— ————— ‘a Cominc MIS «14. NESS THE PESSIMIST. Daughter, ‘‘SPLENDID NEWS FROM THE FRONT THIS MORNING. I HEAR YOUR FATHER COMING. Mother. ‘‘ Hus, DEAR. SEES IT HE WON’T TOUCH HIS BREAKFAST.”’ WE ’vE-—”’ HIDE THE PAPER; IF Undress Uniform. ‘* Personally, when in command, I had no difficulty in having all correct. Even at mess I never permitted officers to appear in anything but boots, as I pointed out, being mobilised for war, they might be needed at a moment’s notice.’’—Daily Mirror. ‘““ENEMY ‘TIRED OF LYING’ KILLED BY THEIR OWN GAS.”’ Evening Paper. Metaphorical or literal, German gas seems to be equally deadly. A Phrase to be Avoided. At a concert for wounded soldiers :— ‘*T am indeed glad to see so many of you present to-night.’’—Edinburgh Evening News. From an article in the monthly paper | of the Church League for Women’s | Suffrage describing life in Serbia :— ‘* Yesterday a bullock-cart turned up with a | wicker top—most picturesque. The owner milked the animals and presented the milk to the hospital.’’ In Serbia there appear to be no silly | distinctions between the sexes. ‘““Sportinac TurTor. Gentleman desires Pupil to instruct him in following Sports and | Pastimes :—Shooting, fishing, golf, tennis, billiards, &c., and assist him with his studies ; exceptional references.’’—Morning Paper. He will have to be an extremely versatile pupil, but where does the sporting tutor come in?

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| tentative | same specimens recurred annually in 248 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL [Serremper 22, 1915, A VICTIM OF INVASION. | thing in ‘the bud. He felt that if he! would not let “them blight” trespass summer visitors as “ them blight.” He did not see the good of them, he never had seen and never would see that they served any fruitful purpose. He came of a family who had owned their own land in ‘Treginegar for incalculable generations, and he could speak casu- ally of his great-grandfather’s attitude towards the Restoration. (Any ances- tor behind the grandfather mark was indicated by the single prefix ; beyond | the limit of his immediate experience | Peter was Bergsonian in his treatment | of time and simultaneity.) And if any- one could need further evidence of so obvious a valuation of “ them blight ” Peter had a clincher in reserve. ‘“ It’s just twenty year since the first visitor came to Treginegar,” he would say with a kind of superheated patience, and add as he turned contemptuously away —“‘and he was a black man.” The well-informed were left to ponder on the dismal quality of this black blight ; it is the sort you get on beans. For years after the black man episode Peter continued to live happily in historic time, tilling his land on the principles inculeated by his _ great- grandfather in the days of WiLL1aM Rurvus, and only distantly critical of the slowly increasing plague of green fly that had miraculously descended from a black ancestor. These first visitors were, indeed, comparatively harmless creatures; the August and September, bringing their young, and feeding them, for the most part innocently enough, on one of the various beaches—poor foreign things who knew nothing of the massive permanence of ‘Treginegar, and almost negligible from Peter's point of view. But about ten or fifteen years ago some unintelligible thing that called itself a “ railway company ” built a new station at a point eight miles nearer to Treginegar, and the blight only had to drift five miles instead of thirteen in order to reach its summer habitat. And although the poor things tried desper- ately in the first instance to keep their | Riviera refuge to themselves the names of other places about Treginegar were becoming famous. ING-GouLp and Lewis Hinp, wrote Dangerous people, like Bar-| dead furze. | had, so to speak, killed a few queen | Peter Bintock referred generally to | wasps earlier in the year the swarm could have been avoided. He scowled horrors that awaited any of “them blight” if they trespassed on his land. saw it from his own front garden, snatched a cudgel as he rushed through the hall, and charged, shouting. The invaders were three timidly - brave schoolmistresses, and they scattered and fled Jike scared hens _ before | Peter’s vocabulary, leaving him vic- torious but choleric in the middle of the pasture. But next August the sacrilege was repeated more than once; and there can be little doubt that the Socialist who attempted argument, and after- wards brought an action against Peter for violent assault, secretly instigated other visitors to dare the outrageous experiment. That year report had it that there were as many as twenty- nine foreigners in Treginegar parish during August, and Peter began to have the feelings of one who had undertaken a great and urgent work. Incidentally he tried a bull, an indis- criminating beast, who finally penned him into a corner while a spasm of blight were criminally trespassing in the middle distance. That act marked the bull as a true descendant of the black man, and it was transformed into vulgar beef directly the weather grew cooler. This error of judgment, how- ever, confirmed Peter in his conviction that he was one against a multitude, that he was a man with a great and increasing purpose, and he prepared to fight the whole world in defence of his rights. He knew that the world con- tained great hosts of visitors. He had heard of other places in Cornwall, and of Devonshire, and of a town called London that was more than twice the size (so they said) of Bodmin; but he was magnificently resolute. He had a matter of ten months in every year for his preparations, and through harvest and swore a great deal, | and openly advertised the frightful | ‘been for the War. | victim of the Zeppelin, inasmuch as it And eventually that happened. Peter | his fields broke out, little by little as he could afford it, into barbed wire, and the steadfastly locked gates were capped by a horrid cheval-de-frise of | And during the crucial | seven weeks Peter himself never relin- very wicked books, actually naming |quished his cudgel or abated for a “beauty-spots” on the North Coast, and all the competition of the ‘Cornish ” failed to prevent the blight from spreading. Peter began to lose his temper. single second of daylight his fierce | untiring watch across the spread of | arable and pasturage. He could not go) | to market between July and October, | He and his personal work in the harvest- | Lieutenant Tomps was a frequent con- had a curious feeling that he had | field was almost negligible. missed some opportunity to nip this|swerved from his holy purpose. He never | He unaccosted upon one blade of grass in the fields that his great-grandfather had so successfully cuJtivated in the days of ALFRED THE GREAT. I am still inclined to believe that Peter would have survived if it had not He was truly a seems that the whole East Coast has this year vomited its vast swarm of visitors into Treginegar—upwards of two hundred, the postman said. And unhappily a corner of Peter's land offers a tempting and advantageous short-cut. By mid-August he had a wild look about his eyes, which he had not closed since he found that some fool had used two of his corn shocks as a tent to sleep in—and he had a convinced habit of turning sharply to gaze across any field that had been momentarily hidden. He looked with fierce suspicion at the very gulls. Two hundred acres take a lot of watching, and Peter was never still for five seconds at a time. No man could endure that strain for seven weeks. By the end of August I knew that Peter was a dcomed man; and when it was found that he had bar- ricaded the main coast road one night even the reluctant Cornish authorities (egged on, unquestionably, by this blight) were forced to intervene. In the Bodmin “ establishment” they can keep him quiet in an empty room by giving him photographs of bare fields or moors or any desert in which there is no human figure. The room must be empty, because he is apt to | mistake furniture for blight, and his methods are drastic and violent. They hope to let him out at the end of September, but they are prepared to receive him again every year between | July and October. It’s the recurrent | kind, the doctor says. There is a certain irony in the! thought that Peter, whose great-grand- | father farmed Treginegar in the dear | old days of the Phoenicians, should | now be reduced to the level of a summer visitor in Bodmin. | Punch’s Roll of honour. | WE keenly regret to learn of the | death, from wounds, of Lieutenant J. S. M. Tomps, R.F.A. He was one of the first to enlist in the Liverpool Scottish. He was invalided home with frost-bite and, on recovering, received a commission in the Royal Field Artil- lery. After four months’ training he returned to the Front a few weeks ago. tributor of verse and short articles to Punch.

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that | | not ly a as it has 1 of 3 of And land 20S id a he | that -orn and ing that | He the ce a ver No | ven 1ew | ! and | yar- ght ties | this yom are ‘ich om | hey | SEPTEMBER 22, 1915.] Wife. ‘‘Oun, I pur ir out, DEAR, AS I DIDN’r KNOW HOW LONG YOU’D BE. WAS A GOOD ONE.”’ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL P NK by So x | ; eR OUR WAR ECONOMIES. Husband (returning to smoking-room after being called to the telephone). ‘‘ WHat THE——!?”’ I pIpN’T LIKE TO SEE IT WASTING, AS I KNEW IT | | | | CAMP QUARTERMASTERING. | Zz. | | | have so much time on their hands that | food and things, and just run the camp. Tue worst of Adjutants is that they | | they can go about asking silly ques- | | tions. I was busy at something or | another when our Adjutant asked me | if I would quartermaster our summer camp, and I daresay that I did, absent- mindedly and in accordance with mili- tary etiquette, answer in the affirmative. Anyway, I thought no more about it until the middle of July, when the Adjutant came along and asked what I was doing about the camp. “What camp?” “The summer camp.” “Ts there going to be one?” “Yes, and you’ve been appointed Camp Quartermaster.” “Very interesting. Any men going?” “That’s what 1 was going to ask you. It’s your business to find out.” Commanders. Do I have to do any- thing else?” “Not much. You have to provide tents for the battalion, and see to the ‘their arrangements—especially me. “All right, I’ll ask the Company | the Platoon Sergeants, who worried the men, and, as that’s the only way that things begin to move in the Army, things began to move. That ’s all.” “ That sounds easy.” “Yes, but you may have trouble about the tents. I hear there aren’t any to be got.” “Perhaps we'd better not mention that to the men until they get there.” “No, especially as there ’s no chance of billeting them.” “ How long will the camp last ?” I found that the Adjutant wasn’t as wrong as usual about tents being un- procurable. It seems that the War Office had decided to use tents in con- nection with their war, and that several other people were thinking of holding summer camps. These things had been “About a fortnight, and if there told to the tent-makers, who are pessi- | aren’t enough men we can stop it! mistic people, and, if I had believed the sooner.” “That’s a most satisfactory idea and | proached, I should have come to the will make it easy for everyone to make | conclusion that there wasn’t a tent to ” |be procured in the country. However, | \first half-a-dozen firms whom I ap- | “ Well, you must do the best you can, | by a process of pretending that I didn’t | and I think you'd better begin to see|really want tents but was writing an about it.” article on the lack of enterprise in I saluted, and that’s how I became| British industries and in tent-making Camp Quartermaster. The Adjutant’s|in particular, I got the offer of quite a one sensible idea was about beginning | number of tents at more or less reason- to see about it, and I accordingly started | able prices. To the surprise and annoy- to worry the Company Commanders,|ance of the tent-makers I accepted ' who worried the Seconds-in-command, | some of these offers and directed them who worried the Company Sergeant- | to despatch the tents to the remote and Majors, who worried the Company |inaccessible part of the country where Quartermaster-Sergeants, who worried | we had decided to hold our camp. This

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| a railway company that was willing to | trucks and the men to load them. When | it got round that I had secured tents, that I wanted tents, they could have | to get them. | problem I turned my attention to the | food question, and sent for the battalion | Quartermaster-Sergeant, who incident- 250 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. (Seripuber 22, 1915, BUS IM ESS “Sz GRIT. Ry. ey ¢ Ww, Ny ag WS > N FIFA Z FZ G. A. TiaPa : THE MORNING AFTER THE ZEPPELIN RAID IN OUR VILLAGE. | put fresh heart into the tent-makers, as they were able to assure me that. no railway company would carry tents, and that the War Office had bought up every available motor lorry. They were right about the motor lorries, but I discovered carry tents if and when they had time, and if they could find the necessary about ten members of the battalion assured me that, if they had known obtained them for me for nothing. . I effectually stopped this kind of talk by telling them that I wanted lots more tents and eagerly accepting their offers Having more or less settled the tent ally was once a real Quartermaster-Ser- geant. He said that he knew all about feeding troops, but couldn’t tell me accurately how many stones go to a pound of plum jam, or how many raisins each man is entitled to in a ration of plum duff. He was willing to hazard an opinion on relatively trivial details like meat, but on important questions like pdté de foie gras and turnips and the service allowance of pepper per man for breakfast, and whether an infantry man was entitled to one pickle and a cavalry man to two pickles for tea he| was hopelessly uninformed. The best he could do was to offer to look up a book of army regulations which had been issued to him in 1856, and which he thought still held good. On inquiry I ascertained that our last Camp Quartermaster, after feeding the battalion on a consistent dietary of pork sausages for four days, had retired to a private home for the feeble-minded, where he wa; passing his time calcu- lating how many sausages it will take to feed a battalion of uncertain number for a week on the basis that pork sausages go bad in geometrical progres- | sion, starting at one-eighth of a sausage the first day and going on at the double. I felt certain that mutiny would be the| result of attempting to feed the batta- lion on pork sausages for a fortnight in | a year when there was no R in the | month of August, which Matilda assured me is the sole test as to whether or not | pork is fit for human consumption. Obtaining no assistance from the | Army or our own past experience | turned my attention to marine records, and found that the staple food of the sea is vinegar. As the weather looked wet and stormy I decided to adopt a vinegar diet, especially as vinegar is easily bought and, being wrapt up in barrels, can be handled with facility. Both Matilda and the Battalion Quartermaster-Sergeant thought that the men would expect meat either as a | relish or an alternative to the vinegar, as some of them at least would be land- lubbers and not entirely attuned to the vinegar diet, and I accordingly agreed to risk the expense of adding the cuisine. Subject to the state of the meat to Editor's | digestive organs I will tell you some | other time how to buy meat for the Army and the kind of things that the War Office do by way of intervention when they find out that you have laid in stocks of tents, vinegar and meat with a view to holding a camp.

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) %, ; Y/ . Ny 0 > Ay AQP 7T N TH ~ AANA THE TRAITOR TO YOUR UNION.” Srconp Ditto. “WELL, I’D SOONER BE PUNCH, OR THE LONDON ‘EB Cy | Sea aa- Uk AU = AMY mn tps fi : LAST First Munition Worker. “LOOK HERE, MATE, YOU ’RE CHARIVARI.—SeprrempBer 22, 1913. TRADE UNION REGULATIONS ilest_ | LIMITATION YM y bs y a nt PPADS DON SSP LSS ONAN _ > ss WORD. WORKING TOO HARD. THAT THAN A TRAITOR TO MY COUNTRY.” YOU ’RE ¢

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22, 1915.] SEPTEMBER PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 253 | ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. House by spontaneous burst of cheer- ing appreciated subtle distinction. Up | (EXTRACTED From THE Diary or Tony, M.P.) to certain point, loosely but generously House of Commons, Tuesday, 14th September.—-On prorogation of Parlia- for guidance. ment elected in January, 1581, ad- defined, War Minister is to be trusted That limit reached, Joynson-Hicks interposes and finally journed in March same year, QUEEN settles stupendous problem. ELIZABETH, With that affability in | conversation that marks royalty, lasked the SPEAKER what had | passed in the House of Commons. “Tf it please your Majesty, seven weeks,” answered Speaker PorHam. ‘To-day Parliament re- sumes the Session. If our Mr. SPEAKER were asked by the Sovereign what had passed in the interval since the adjourn- / ment he might make answer, “ If |it please your Majesty, nearly | seven weeks.” Poignant remembrance of how, towards end of July, we parted distraught with apprehension. | Something over six weeks’ ad- | journment of Parliament! And what meanwhile was to become of interests of the Empire at home and abroad ? the Cabinet get along, deprived of daily counsel from supporters seated below Gangway? (Per- “eq haps more precise to say standing, for they were generally on their legs). somehow, for here we are again, once _| more counselled and comforted by the | grinding of HanpEet Boorn, the war- bling of Wrpawoopn, the denunciation of Dauziet, the prattle of Prrncir and | the jocularity of Joynson-Hicks. | The hyphenated Member for Brent- | ford contributed to debate a remark | that uplifted cloud of war and made Members momentarily merry. What | Premier aptly described as ‘a spor- | | of conscription versus voluntary enlist- | ment had occurred. JoHN DILLon in- | troduced subject in passionate speech greeted with continuous cheering from Members opposite. Remembering old | times when he was accustomed to be | shouted down from same quarter, | reception must have given him pleased | surprise. | Irrespective of Party lines House other insisting on leaving matter to decision of Government, who alone are | in possession of information upon its | full bearings. It was here Joynson- | Hicks rushed in and settled matter. | “On the question of conscription,” he said, “I should myself prefer to be guided — very largely by Lord KITCHENER.” How would = | adie desultory discussion” on question | divided into two camps, one demanding | day for discussion of the question, the’ g ‘‘COMFORTED BY THE GRINDING OF HaNnpDEL BootH r 7 . > , > vel * Tu U0, ” Well, we muddled through AND THE WARBLING OF WEDGWOOD. Leader of Opposition had rather un- easy time. Guerst (in khaki) jumped up from his side and, with pistol held at head of Premrer—of course in Par- liamentary sense of the words—insisted upon day being given for discussion of recruiting question. When he sat down his esteemed Leader solemnly rose, his MINISTER PRIME EYE MARKING K. Tur TIME, WITH AN ON THE CLO¢C white cambric handkerchief profusely streaming from breast coat-pocket like flag of truce. ‘¢T rise,” said Mr. CHApuin in voice | rather of sorrow than of anger, “lest, | sitting on the same bench as the honourable and gallant gentleman, my silence might appear to give consent to views expressed by him.” Strangers in gallery, chiefly men in khaki, puzzled by peal of laughter that followed this re- mark. What were they laughing at ? Preserving best traditions of Front Opposition bench, CHAPLIN in the Government to decide if and when compulsory service might be needed in best interests of country. to hear on subject was _ the Prewer. Of the hour allotted to discussion just nine minutes left to him. More than sufficed. Indeed, last half-minute served for reply that for the time settled everything. “When,” he said, “the Govy- ernment, without undue delay, with as much deliberation as the gravity of the subject demands, arrive at their conclusions, they will present them to the House, and they will become the subject of Parliamentary discussion.” Business done.—Parliament re-assem- bled. Commons sat eighty minutes. Lords thirty-five. House of Lords, Wednesday.—House wore gala aspect. Exceptionally large attendance of Peers. thronged by Privy Councillors. Gal- leries garlanded by ladies in summer tion. Explanation forthcoming in an- nouncement that War SECRETARY would make important statement on progress of War and present position ‘of campaign. Now would the veil per- |sistently spread by Press Bureau be | lifted. lhave some concern in the matter, |would be taken into full confidence. | Gossip and rumour, idle or vicious, | would be dispersed. K. or K. in his place on Ministerial Bench with soldier -like punctuality. |On stroke of half-past four rose from | side of Crewk. Laid on Table packet lof type-written MS. With head bent lin level voice. Chamber at best a bad Steps of Throne | chivalrously declared his full trust: | Only person House really cared | frocks. Atmosphere of intense expecta- Now the public, who really | over it proceeded to read at rapid pace | one to speak in even for a Peer who | _stands upright, with head thrown back, talking in measured and sonorous tones.

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| 25 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [SerreMBeR 22, 1915. —_ ‘. Elderly Caddie (discussing with golfer the very indifferent exhibition of another member), ‘‘You KNOW, HE DON’T REALLY ENJOY HISSELF, It’s MORE OF A RELIGION WITH HIM THAN A GAME, SO TO SPEAK.”’ This rapid, unpunctuated, unempha- | sized reading of a paper hopeless. Noble Lords sat in attitude of strained attention waiting for dis- closure of something new, striking, peradvyenture cheering. What they heard was a bald summary of com- muniqués from Headquarters with which the newspapers had long made them familiar. Only new thing of any importance was expression of opinion | that on Eastern front “the Germans have almost shot their last bolt.’”’ From so high authority, abnormally averse | from taking sanguine views, this opinion was welcomed with muffled cheer, Standing alone satisfied high-strung expectation. When K. or K. sat down a strange | thing happened. Noble lords sat in mute surprise looking at each other. | Was this really all? Was the tale ended? Surely something must follow. Lorp CHANCELLOR sat motionless on Woolsack, looking round silent benches. Nobody rose. After awkward pause, it seemed a full minute’s duration, but was probably only a moment, he re- marked, ‘The House will now adjourn.” Which it forthwith did in dazed condition. it scarcely | Business done—In the Commons Premier moved Vote of Credit for 250 millions, the seventh since outbreak of the War, reaching in the aggregate the once fabulous sum of £1,362,000,000. Thursday.—News from the Front. ,It comes in a letter from a young soldier writing to his father from Gallipoli. Describing the _ brilliant charge of the Yeomanry on Hill 70, which took place on August 21st, he } says: “* Wedgwood Benn was simply a marvel.” He was always so regarded whilst with us in the Commons. be glad to hear that in new circum- stances he is maintaining his reputa- tion; and his many friends will take a personal pride in this tribute from a comrade who was with him in the same gallant charge. Long, occasionally lively, sitting, extending to full time limit of eleven o'clock. Occupied with talk about relative merits of conscription and voluntary service. Colonel ARTHUR LEE, home from the War, opened fire under former flag. Some sensation created by deliberate statement made by J. H. Tuomas, authorized exponent of views of railwaymen throughout the | House will , country, that if conscription be decreed they will straightway stop work. Ministers significantly abstained from taking part in conversation. Business done-—New Vote of Credit passed Report stage. Our Experts. ‘It is always a matter of amour propre with every commander to keep his adversary ignorant of his dispositions, and let him find them out for himself rather than supply the information from his own side.”’ Military Correspondent of ‘‘ The Daily News.”’ From Training Manual Signalling, Part II., in regard to making per- manent joints in a broken cable :— ‘* Dip the joint into the liquid solder until a sufficient quantity has been absorbed, and then wipe it with a rag. Wash the joint with water to remove the remains of the flux, dry and serve with india-rubber tape and solution.”’ We have often observed some such dish as this at the Mess, and wondered where the cook got the recipe from. A Good Catch. ‘‘FisH—Ropp.— At St. Paul's Church, Grangetown, September 8th, by the Rev. D. Fisher, John Fish, of Newcastle, to Emily Mary Rodd, of Cardiff (by licence).”’ Western Mail. | |

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= )Y eed om dit pre ary ind the ig, or neater la nd th ry th .d 64aS—F SerreMBerR 22, 1915.] PL {is 5 WO.- ne No Ra /o Auctioneer (reproachfully). ‘‘ WHat ! _ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON th nig ) Ys PM No ADVANCE ON THREE SHILLINGS ? ¥ oil] wl CHARIVARL — WHY, THE PICTURE BY ITSELF 18 WORTH THAT!’’ INDECISION, (From the War Musings of a dyspeptic Pacificist.) Is the time to eat an apple after ‘“‘ brekker,” Or before ? Will it mitigate the keenness of my pecker, Or, perhaps, a jaded appetite restore, If I eat my apple first ? Will it spoil my coffee thirst ? After all, I think it wiser to refrain Till the forenoon is a little on the wane. Is the time to eat an apple after lunch, Or before ? Now my lunch is quite a simple meal— a hunch Of bread -and- butter, cheese, and nothing more. If I prelude it with fruit, And my gastric juice dilute, I may throw my whole digestion out of tune— Oh, I’d better wait until the after- noon ! Is the time to eat an apple after tea, Or before ? Here’s a problem that acutely int’rests me As a student of high dietetic lore ; For the flavour of Oolong Is delicate, not strong, And the chances are the two will never mix ; So I think I'll hold my apple up till six. Is the time to eat an apple after dinner, Or before ? Though it won't determine who’s to be the winner : In the present sad and fratricidal war, The choice for me is serious, Any error ’s deleterious, So I think I'd best refer it, on the whole, To the League of Gastronomical Control. Is the time to eat an apple after supper, Or before ? I have searched in vain the works of Martin TuPrer For proverbial instruction on this And, having failed to find Help from that colossal mind, A wrinkle from the wise-old Snark I'll borrow, And always eat my apple on the morrow. ‘‘ For this relief much thanks.” Mr. Punch begs to acknowledge gratefully the anonymous gift of his own and Toby’s counterfeits admirably done in relief out of local chalk by officers in the trenches of France. Things ‘‘The Times” would have expressed differently. “The fact that Dr. J. W. Mackail is re- | sponsible for the introduction to the collection of ‘Modern Essays ’—a volume made up from | a selection of leading articles in The Times | during the past five years—gives both author- ity and value to the book.”’ Westminster Gazette. News from Constantinople :— ‘‘The munition factory at Makrikions has | suspended work, owing to the want of row material.’’—Newcastle Evening Chronicle. That is not what stops munitions fac- score ; tories here. Quite the contrary.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVART (SEPTEMBER 22, 1915, STOOPING TO CONQUER. I can’r tell you where it was, because | that is an official secret, and if I divulge | an official secret the penalty is—well, that’s an official secret too, I suppose. | Anyhow, boiling oil is a fool compared | with it. I went up to a policeman whom I saw at the gates. ‘Good afternoon,” I began, waving my blue paper about ; “T’ve come to make high explo e “Second on the right, third on the left, second on the left again, fourth on the right, first on the left, and keep straight on till you come to a e “Thanks,” I interposed. “That’s about as much as I can remember for a first instalment. Second on the left, I think you said?” “Second on the right, third on the left——” He was still going on with his recita- tion when I passed out of earshot. By dint of asking seven more police- men and brandishing my blue paper in & conspicuous manner, I at length reached the office of which I was -in search. ‘Good afternoon,” I said; “T’ve come to make a high explo z Someone took my blue paper away from me as I was in the act of describ- ing a peculiarly effective parabola with it, and summoned me up to a desk. “Sign the register, please, here—and here,” he said, thrusting the usual cross-nibbed Government pen into my hand and passing me a piece of that charming Government blotting-paper which blots in very truth. I did as he requested, and then he handed me a book of rules and a spade-guinea. “No, really,” I protested. couldn’t dream of accepting Then I found it was only a brass dise with a number on it. “ Thatis your metal pass,” the clerk explained. “Jt must not be taken home as a souvenir or worn on your watch- chain, but must be dropped into the box provided for it when you leave the works to-night. You will commence work in the Cartridge Factory this afternoon.” “ Where ’s that?” I asked. “Second on the right, third on the left 2 “Thanks; I know that piece,” I remarked hurriedly and left the office. With the assistance of a friendly pro- | fessional munitioner who didn’t seem | to know what to do with a trolley full of brass plates I at length found my shed and duly presented myself to the assistant-foreman. ‘Good afternoon,” I said; “I have come to” (and here L made a twiddling motion with thumb and forefinger) “ roll cartridges.” “«T The look of relief upon the man’s face when he saw that the munitions | problem had been solved at last was good to behold. He beckoned me to follow him, and, making our way amid a perfect maze of wheels and belts, and | cylinders going up and cylinders com- ing down, and pistons making drives to the off and pistons making hooks to leg, we at last reached a machine that was half mangle and half copying- press. On a ledge in front of it was a boxful of brass thimbles. These were embryo cartridges, my companion ex- plained, and my job was to (official secret) and then to (official secret) . after which, I had to! (official secret) ... He also showed | me how to switch the engine on and | off, cautioning me at the same time not to put the thimbles in upside down or I should break the punch. He then started the machine and left me .. . A noise like a salvo of artillery nearly startled me off my stool. My machine had stopped. It had “downed tools.” I issued my first complete high ex- plosive. ‘“ You’ve put one in upside down,” chuckled a ribald youth on the next machine. ‘Your punch is broke.” I heaved a sigh of relief. From the noise I judged that I had broken the whole factory, and that I should have to go and explain to Mr. Luoyp GrorGE that in consequence the War couldn’t go on, and that the Government had better see about obtaining the best Peace terms possible. The assistant-foreman came up. I quite expected him and was consumed with curiosity to know which of my ears he would elect to box. . However, | he merely grinned, told me I had done nothing startlingly original, and put me on to another machine. Then I got to work in earnest. For three hours-and-a-half I stuck to my job, and then the referee blew his whistle. My machine kindly stopped without any assistance from me, and I heard someone say “Tea.” In two minutes we were all out in the yard burrowing in our tea-baskets. I was in the middle of my eighth bloater-paste sandwich when I casually | looked up and saw the only man of the | V.M.B. 1 knew who was on the Satur- | day afternoon shift—Peter Travers. | We exchanged greetings. ‘ Your cos- tume,” observed Peter, as he helped himself to my cake, “would put the shabbiest tramp juggler to shame.” “My oldest clothes,” I said, “as per | advice from headquarters. What, may | I ask, are you doing in last week's | tennis flannels and a blazer embroidered | with the arms of the Thornton Heath | Chess and Draughts Club?” “T am sorry,” said Peter, “but that | is an official secret. If you read the | Official Secrets Act of 1899 you will | find that———-__ By the by, what's your | job?” | I drew myself up proudly. “I am making cartridge-cases longer,” I said. “Good heavens!” exclaimed Peter. ‘My job is to make ’em shorter! We're merely undoing each other’s work. Do you think Lioyp GEoRGE is aware of | this scandalous waste of energy? Let's go home.” We were still debating the matter when six o'clock arrived, and we followed the stream of workers back to our respective sheds. Two hours later, with several thousand others, we attempted to board a motor-bus that normally carried thirty passengers. “Tt’s all right,” said Peter, as we scrambled on top, “I’m a trimmer. I’m merely taking the rough edges off your slovenly work.” | «“ Anyway,” I answered, “ whatever | else I’ve been doing I’ve most certainly | contracted permanent curvature of the spine in my country’s cause.” “And my back aches infernally,” said Peter. ‘I wonder if there ’s such a disease as munitions-back — like | tennis-elbow, you know?” “We're merely suffering,” I said, “from a little unaccustomed strain upon our sinews of war.” | | TO AN ALARUM. TrMEPIECcE whose tinkling clatter With sudden fears untold Has daily sought to shatter My slumbers from of old, Seeming to say, ‘“‘ Awaken ! That bed must be forsaken ! Be off to where the bacon And eggs are getting cold!” Though, ere these days of battle, Each morn at 7.10 He hailed your poignant rattle With words one may not pen, The author of these verses No longer now rehearses Those matutinal curses He cast upon you then ; But, leaping up and scorning To snooze again and snore, “ Old chap,” he cries, “‘ good morn- ing!” (And foots it round the floor). * Rejoice, for we're in clover ! Another night is over, And lo, the Hun sky-rover Has missed us both once more.” Another Quiet Wedding. ‘*The service was conducted by the Rev. —— ——, M.A., the bridegroom. ‘Phe wed- ding was of a quiet nature, owing to the recent death of the bride.’’—Blackpool Times.

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15, | the | will | your am aid. eter. Je’re Do ‘e of | set ’s | | sir we :k to ater, | we | that | | ; Wwe mer. : off | ever inly the lly,” such like | aid, rain ter rn —_ tev. | ved- | the nes. Seprewsen 22,1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 257 | | MESSRS. HOPEFUL AND BOOMAGE, WHERE GROW THE ARTS OF WAR AND PEACE. Our “Business as UsvaL” CATALOGUE, WITH NEW DESIGNS FOR THE AMELIORATION OF LIFE IN THE TRENCHES. é : Gy Floral Painting Outfit, with attachment which converts rifle into easel. Complete in paperette case, 12s. 6d., post free. corners, with full directions. Carriage free, One Guinea. aR) FINA | ||! % ey Ne &. pe) i % a Sti Z y ‘f ¥ . I —: The Old Chateau Exercises. Do not let Lives of the Lustrous. In ten volumes, with your card enclosed, if desired. From your muscles relax. 15s., post free. Delivered in the trenches for a first payment 10s., post free. of 5s. You CANT HIT Me, )—-—~— —~ROTTEN SHOT,! (~~ 2 TRY AGAIN, }) — Lifelike Ventriloquist’s Figure. Natural movements of eyes, nose and mouth, with book on the art. Can be used to entertain your comrades in the evenings, and during the day to draw the enemy’s fire. 32s., postage 8d. |

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258 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. [SEPTEMBER 22, 1915,. ANTI-AIRCRAFT. I HELPED myself to the last piece of toast, munched it thoughtfully and | turned to Henry. «What are we going to do to-day?” I asked. Henry stroked the thing he calls his moustache. « To- -day. Well, I shall take the bike | to pieces. | “Yes, but what are the men going | to do?” Henry stopped stroking his mous- | tache. “Clean,” he said. “First of all they can clean the rooms, then they | can clean the gun, then they can’! clean—er: x “ Themselves.” “Yes. By the way, you’re off this afternoon ?”’ | I smiled. “I am.” “ Right,” said Henry. start on the bike now. look at the rooms.” And he went out. Henry of course is my senior; we obtained our commissions on the same | day, but his surname happens to begin with a B, whereas mine begins with a| Y. He is therefore my senior by some twenty-three letters, and on parade [| call him “Sir.” I also inspect the | rooms. At eleven o’clock, acting on my in- structions, I put on my belt, took up iny stick and inspected the rooms. | They were clean. At twelve o’clock I inspected the gun. It was clean. At) twelve - fifteen I inspected the men. They were clean. At twelve-thirty [| inspected Henry: he was black and oily. Tired out with my morning’s work | I returned to the mess, threw myself | into the comfortable chair and fell into | a light slumber, from which I was only wakened by the enthusiastic mess waiter distributing the lunch on the floor. It was just as we were finishing lunch | that the telephone bell rang. I got up and answered it: it was the Adjutant. *“ Hullo,” he said. ‘The Colonel is coming over to inspect you this after- noon.” I turned to Henry—the senior. “Colonel coming over to inspect this “Well, I'll! afternoon,” I said. “Help! Tell him we shan’t be at home.” I turned to the instrument. “Very good, Sir,” I said to it. “ About | what time?” “Oh, during the afternoon.” We rang off. Henry st - ar a the thing he calls his moustache. ‘ Dash,” he said. “My | take to-morrow afternoon off.” your pushbike.” bike is all to pieces.” ‘The Colonel will only trouble about the gun,” I assured him. Henry laughed bitterly. these inspections.” “T don’t mind them,” I said airily. I don’t; on such occasions I walk behind and listen to Henry saying, | “Yes, Sir, it shall be altered.” le | don't mind them,” I repeated. “ After all, it isn’t the General.”’ “Very well, then, will you stay in this afternoon? I hate them, and you inspected this morning.” I began to alter my point of view; it is one thing to trot behind and w atch Henry with the Colonel; it is quite| another to trot in front and be watched by the Sergeant. “ Henry,” I said, ‘be a man.” “T hate “Look here, old thing, you might——” “Of course,” I said, “you are my} senior Henry is very sporting. “It isn’t a} i ity, and of course you | I walked up and down the room (20 feet the double journey) and then across it (9 feet). I thought of the night when I had nearly shot at a cloud and how Henr 'y had restrained me, swearing it wasn’t a Zeppelin. “ Henry,” "I said, “I'll do it.’ He looked very relieved. ‘“ Sports- man,” he said, ‘I’ll have to borrow “Do,” I agreed; “and now I’m going to inspect the gun.” “ But you did that this morning.” “ Yes ; but this time I am inspecting from a Colonel’ 8 pout of view. Desing ‘the atenien’ "is a ; most elastic term. I am not by any means nervous, but I must admit that half- way through the afternoon I had in- spected the gun no fewer than ten times, and the rooms and the men, unofficially, at least five times. Inci- dentally I had had a long chat with the Sergeant. It was my first inspection. At four o’clock the Colonel and the Adjutant arrived. I explained that it was Henry’s afternoon out and he had unfortunately gone before the tele- phone message arrived—a very permis- sible lie. Then we inspected the gun. There was just one slip; it was when the Colonel pointed to a new lighting arrangement, an idea of Henry’s. “ That lighting,” he began. “Yes, Sir,” I said mechanically, “T’ll have that altered.” “T was going to say I thought it distinctly good,” he continued. I tripped over the box of spare parts and apologised. The rest of the busi- ness was uneventful. Just before they left the Adjutant | took me on one side and spoke confi- dentially for a few minutes. “ You see?” he finished. “Very good, Sir,” I said. I went in | smiling and w aited for Henry’s return, | Ev entually he came back, sleepy and | tired. “ Everything all right?” he inquired. | “ Tt was an excellent show,” I replied | modestly. “ But they ’re horrid things, | inspections.” “ Horrid,” he agreed. “ Well, I think I'll go to bed now. Wake me at two.” He yawned and murmured something | blatant about night watches. “Good | night.” ‘Good night,” I said. ‘Oh, by the | way, Henry, the Adjutant took me on one side before they left. It appears their inspection had—er—a particular significance.” Henry looked surprised. Nothing doing to-night ?” | | | | “ Why? “No, not to-night,” I said. “To- morrow afternoon.”’ “To-morrow afternoon. What?” “ The—er—General is coming over with Major Smith, the air -craft specialist.” “ Lord!” “He will probably ask you to run through some drill. He doesn’t want it known, though. Everything to go on as usual.” I paused. ‘“ Everything to go on as usual, Henry. I was wonder- ing if you would lend me your motor- bike,” I added. Henry stroked the thing he calls his moustache. A Sham Dum-Dum. Mr. Punch has been requested to warn the public against a man who has for some time been fraudulently impersonating Captain JoHn KENDALL, R.A. (“Dum-Dum”’ of Punch). Anyone receiving a begging letter or a visit from this impostor should communicate with the police, to whom he is known. “ Along the line Nowi Troki to Mejszagola and Podberezie, the latter not to be con- founded with Podbrodzie, the Germans strongly entrenched themselves weeks ago.”’ Morning Paper. We regret to say that for many years we have been guilty of this confusion, just as the Editor of the Novoe Vremya has found it impossible to distinguish Llanfairfechan from Llanfrechfa, ‘* There is being raised in the neighbourhood of Westminster Palace a group by Rodin, the illustrious French sculptor, of the burglars of Calais, with halters round their necks, coming to implore the pardon of King Edward.”’ Scotsman. New Scotland Yard would appear to be the place for these historic house- breakers.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 259 Recruit. ‘‘ Yes, yes! Bur pon’T TALK TO ME NOW, THERE’S A GOOD GIRL. I’VE GOT TO GET READY TO SALUTE THIS OFFICER.”’

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE, (By Mr. Punch’s Staff of Learned Clerks.)

He had to show how from day to day the small restrictions and uncertainties of their position (since Guy could not do THE appearance of a new novel by Mr. Compron Mac- | the obvious thing and marry Pauline out of hand) gradually KENZIE is always, even in these days, something of an event. Therefore I opened Guy and Pauline (SECKER) with a lively expectation, which—let me add at once—was by no means disappointed. But having said this I must also say that Guy and Pauline is not in the least the kind of book I was prepared to find it. It reveals Mr. Mackenzie in a quite new manner, as far removed from the passionate vitality of Carnival as from the realism, perhaps a little aggressive, of Sinister Street. Here is miniature painting, most ex- quisite and delicate in workmanship, devoted entirely to the portrayal of an episode in the lives of two persons. Guy and Pauline is the love-story of that friend whom Michael Fane (you may remember) left to rusticate in an old-world village, while he himself pursued the more strenuous life. I have called it a love-story, and the description was surely never better deserved, for Guy and Pauline is about love from beginning toend. Had it been written fifty years ago it might have had as sub-title “or, The Long Engagement.” Mr. Mackenzie has, in fact, set himself as hard a task as could well be imagined: to recount the gradual waxing and waning of attachment between two young persons, both charming, solicitous for each other, and—as is the habit of modern youth—somewhat too introspective to be able to grasp happiness for thinking about it. Guy Hazlewood was the man, and the girl was Pauline, youngest of the three daughters of the Wychford Rectory, as wholly delightful a family, by the way, as any in fiction. But undermined the devotion of each, changing adoration at last to something like antipathy. I doubt if any other writer could have displayed his hero and heroine getting thus on _ the nerves of one another without producing that effect |upon the reader. As it is, the story is so steeped in external | beauty (by a happy inspiration its progress is marked only | by the names of the passing seasons) that not till the end does it reveal itself as tragedy. Guy and Pauline, in short, is a book that, while it may exasperate the impetuous, will be hailed by the reflective as an achievement. Whether the dialect in Journeys with Jerry the Jarvey |(Smirx, Exper), by ALExis Rocug, is authentic or not is a question that must be left to experts. I am content to think it sound because Mr. Rocue seems to know his |jarvey. But a Saxon may well find three hundred con- secutive pages of Jerry's idiom a little trying. This particular Saxon confesses as much quite frankly, and furthermore that he has the impression of but a poor pennyworth of wit to an intolerable deal of whisky. It is a simple fact that the alcoholic joke in all but the subtlest hands is dangerously liable to pall. Whether the vagaries of a drunken lunatic, or the incident of some old maids at a tea-party unwittingly swallowing a powerful emetic, or a squireen at a shoot followed over hill and dale by the mother of his illegitimate offspring, or Jerry himself pros- trate in a rowing boat in a heavy swell, can be made

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260 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. (SepremBer 22, 1915, sufficiently diverting by tactful treatment is a speculative | their conclusions. To my own thinking, Three Gentlemen question that may be left to the curious. Myself, I am| From New Caledonia is by no means a specially dis- conscious that Jerry’s painstaking chronicler leaves me! tinguished example of detective fiction. Its joint authors, strangely cold, and | rather imagine that this is just the Messrs. R. D. Hemmaway and Henry DE HALSALLE, start kind of book that lovers of Ireland don’t particularly care | indeed with a promising situation, the escape from a penal to see published. called The Belfry, at the very moment when the attention | of the world was focussed upon the scenes it described. She | has now followed up this chance topicality by a deliberate Captain The Curé (HoppDER anpD SrouGHTon) is a} one. story of Belgium in the agony of invasion. story, written with passion, by one who clearly knows, and! was my own fault. feels deeply for, the people about whom she writes. Its main theme is the effect produced upon a young priest of Louvain by the martyrdom, by death and worse, of two Belgian girls. Marie and Ottile were two sisters of contrasting natures ; the one, all purity and devotion, is done to death in the first hours of the German orgie ; the other accepts life at a price, becomes a camp- follower of the Huns, and subse- quently, under torment, a spy. Meanwhile the death of Marie | has so worked upon the priest Van Susterens that he renounces his vows and all religion except that of vengeance, and becomes a soldier. What happens after- wards to him and to the un- fortunate Ottile is the matter of the tale. The setting of it is perhaps even more impressive than the action. There is some- thing almost like inspiration about the fury with which the author speaks of infamies which by now we are becoming in some danger of taking for granted. I should like to prescribe this story for an early stage in the treat- ment of those well-meaning im- beciles who still try to “make allowances” for Germany’s crimes. A book, in short, for anyone with pro-German acquaintances. This appears to be an era of competitive fiction. I becoming quite used to the appearance of the novel that art escapes me. arrives bearing upon its cover the trophies of success in This indeed is all very| Quite probably the statement (to give the particular instance I have in mind) that Three Gentlemen F'rom New some contest for publication. well. settlement of three convicts, a gang of thieves who return as | to civilisation burning to revenge themselves upon the man You may recall how Marcaret Bariuie-Saunpers had | who betrayed them. the singular good fortune to publish a novel of Belgian life, | if familiar, thrills about rogue-life in Paris and the booty- | | attack. It is a fine! Words or phrases not required may be erased. At the Front—Somewhere in England. - { well. I am quite lL ;' _— ’ smashed. My windows are be ) entact. : a \ { front | have | \ back | | no J cratcr in my garden, { saw a the Zeppelin. | missed secing { { slept en \ did not sleep a wink | the whole night. Grandmother behaved § like 4 a brick. ) unlike | toy | follows. Letter \ does not follow. Signature \ only J : SS Mr. PuNcH’sS SUGGESTION FOR A ZEPPELIN POST- CARD FOR SENDING TO ANXIOUS FRIENDS AT ONE OF THE OTHER FRONTS. the lending-shelves of |‘ And how much, pray, And so forth. am cision of the phrase. buyers of Amsterdam. from what seemed to me an exasperating confusion of Instead of going straight ahead on any one point, they indulge in so many nibbles here and there that one,is never sure what they would be at. The publishers anticipate that the ~——) story’s appeal will be “almost They continue with some pleasant, But their whole method suffers Perhaps it | universal ”’ ; so I can only sup- | pose that I represent the qualify- ing adverb, and leave it at that. Mr. Tomas Coss is an inde- fatigable producer of artless tales ‘for the mitigation of the boredom |of the entirely unexacting. The Busy Whisper (CHAPMAN) is the chatter that followed Humphry Fortress’s fickleness in getting tired of the much too good and virtuous Gertrude and becoming interested in Jacintha, the more human and winning. Also, _Jacintha’s father, growing unduly | interested in a married lady, and having to pay two thousand _ pounds “within a fortnight” as \a result of the action Ranking 'v. Ranking and Barnard, the | busy whisper occupies itself with that. ... What I really liked best was Bobby, the red-headed, who eventually bagged Jacintha, being so sure of his commission that ‘‘ What ’s more, I’ve ordered ‘some service uniform on _ the ‘strength of it.” I can imagine *| the courteous Snipps, And what can we do for you this morn- ‘ing?’ and Bobby, nonchalantly, “Oh, some service uniform, ‘please.” To whom Snipps: Sir?” “Oh, quite a lot, please.” And I also liked a man who drank a glass |of whisky and soda-water. I appreciated the classic pre- And still the secret of Mr. Coxns’s Strange Craft. I.—Tue ADAPTABLE LINERS. ‘* Almost all liners at times carry passengers, and, not infrequently, Caledonia (Stantey Pavt) carried off a prize of three | tramp steamers as well.”"—Sunday Paper. hundyed pounds may stimulate public curiosity and conse- | 1l.—See Aspens Sune. ‘It is reported from Mytilene that after sinking the Barbarossa, quent sales. What, speaking as a reviewer, 1 could wish | is that when the distinguished judges, “ specially selected | gunboat and transport, the two submarines went on shore and shelled to represent a variety of tastes,” have made their award | a column of troops marching towards Gallipoli.""—T'he Briton. they would retire and leave me to my own unprompted | opinion, instead of suggesting the excellences of the volume | in enthusiastic paragraphs on the cover. inclined to cavil at this practice because, with the best will | Another I am the more | Impending Apology ? ‘The Archbishop of York is taking a holiday for the first three weeks of the present month, ‘in order to get some time for much- in the world, I found myself hopelessly at variance with | needed thinking and reading.’ ’—The Scotsman.

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15, emen dis- hors, start yenal turn man sant, 0ty- iffers 1 of oint, that ps it ; the most sup- lify- ati. nde- tales dom The the phry ting and ning nore Also, duly and sand ” as king the with iked ded, tha, sion ered the gine vhat orn- itly, orm, ps : se.” lass pre- BB'S ntly, ossa, elled hree uch- | SEPTEMBER 29, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 261 CHARIVARIA. The CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER, 'on learning that the enemy’s attempts | | was heard to murmur :— | and ferocity.” | pressed as to the means to cross the Save had been repulsed, ‘«This paradox, prithee, engrave On the door of H.M.’s Treasuree, ‘ The longer we stay on the Save The sooner we go on the Spree.’ ”’ Mr. Luoyp GrorGe’s controversial methods are mellowing. There was a time when he would not have hesitated to accuse his critics of emitting poison- ous gas. Nowadays he contents him-| self with the remark that they have| wasted “whole cylinders of fervour| up. Acargo of sugar which arrived in Glasgow recently was found to be on fire. The secretary of the local branch of the Refined Sugar Association thought it his duty to telegraph the news to the Sugar Commission, and promptly received the fol- lowing helpful reply : “Call | out Fire Brigade ; inform | the police.” Surprise has been ex- by which the two officers who escaped from Don- ington Hall managed to excavate a tunnel 220 feet in length underneath the main boundary fence. But the police have a clue. Another escaped German is described as having “a mole on his cheek.” * * A Danish correspondent with the Austrian army says that the Galician roads are bottomless swamps and that “automobiles can make no progress unless drawn by six horses each.” The purists who always objected to the “auto” are now on firmer ground than ever. * “Smallest plots should be cultivated” was the headline attached to a recent speech of Dr. Macnamara. But you are not to understand that the Secre- TARY OF THE ADMIRALTY approves con- spiracy against the Government. “So glad all settled and pictures pleased,” said an “agony” in The Times addressed to “ R.” the day after the Budget. But if “R.” stands for REGINALD McKENNA we regret to have to inform him that American “ pictures” ‘are not at all pleased with his new film- tax. Certain gentlemen in the neighbour- hood of Fleet Street were greatly per- | turbed on Budget day by a rumour that | War-prophets were to be specially taxed, ‘and a reminder that they had been for some time past subjected to a consider- | able discount seemed to bring them little comfort. ** General Russky’s parting message to Field-Marshal von HINDENBURG :— “ He that Wilna when he may ‘i An officer in Flanders. writes :— |‘ You can always spend a pleasant ” | hour Our public departments are waking | watching the anti-aircrafts—for some unknown reason called ‘ Archi- Sergeant. ‘TAKE THAT FLAG OUT 0’ YER BUTTON-HOLE, M’ LAD. MEMBER THIS IS THE PATRIOTISM HERE.”’ 3RITISH ARMY. WE DON’T WANT |Happily, the other implement seems | to be still going strong. * | The same paper declares that “ the \shadows of poverty and want” in | Britain will be finally dispersed “ by ithe all-potent and flashing sword- ‘thrusts of the all-highest Emperor himself.” We note with interest this confirmation of the belief that the | Katser fights with shadows. A correspondent of the Vossische Zeitung just returned from London |says that respectable male citizens of |London on Sunday mornings dress themselves in their Sunday best, and | with their “ gilt-edged hymnbooks under their arms” (no allusion to the Stock Exchange) repair to a crowded ——— gambling and drinking | club in the neighbourhood }of a church, where they /pass the hours of divine service. They then return to their homes, where they discuss with their wives and children the points of the sermons they are |supposed to have heard. Where do they pick up these secrets of our na- tional life? It seems that the spy-peril has not been | exaggerated. ae The cow which walked down twenty stairs into the basement of a shop at Reading is believed to have mistaken the cellar for a byre. OS Re- * o’ YER A Tommy writing home from the Dardanelles, after NONE balds’—missing the ‘planes not once, | times a minute.” In air clearer, and an but Ameiica twenty the is ARCHIBALD brought down an Ambas- | sador at the first attempt. *’ On the retirement of a Windsor postman it is revealed that he often came into contact with members of the Royal Family, and that on one cecasion ' a Princess asked him to deliver a mes- sage for her. This breach of the pos- tal regulations has been reported to the PosTMASTER-GENERAL, who has, how- ever, mercifully decided to take no action against the illustrious offender. «A month ago,” the Neueste Nach- richten informs us, ‘ Lloyd George, and all England with him, spoke with bated breath of the fearful Russian suction- pipe which was to exhaust Germany To-day it is a far different ery. Russian hammer is The smashed.” | describing the closeness of our trenches to those of the enemy, concludes thus :—“The other morning I was using a periscope as a looking-glass for shaving, and when I had finished ‘found I had shaved a Turk.” Agricultural Chemistry. Extract from an Indian landowner’s letter to a Government adviser :— ‘* And in order to use the improved system (of cultivation) I beg you very kindly to suggest a book on Pharmacy.” ‘*There are few families who can boast of such a patriotic record as Mr. and Mrs. Clark, of Woodhead Street, New Ferry, who have no fewer than six sons serving their King and country. With the exception of the eldest son James, who has 131 years’ service in the artillery, the brothers all enlisted after the declaration of war.’’—Birkenhead News. Although the War is dragging a bit, it is hoped, with some confidence, that James’s record will remain unbroken. VOL. CXLIX.

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262 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. (SEPTEMBER 29, 1915, TO MR. McKENNA. After Swinburne’s * The Oblation.” [Duty has been proposed on cocoa, tea, clocks, cinema films, musical instruments, ete:] Ask something more of me, please ; All that you mention I'll do; Bless your dear heart, were it more, More would I give at a squeeze— Gold for our worrying through, Notes for the sinews of war. "Tis but a trifle to raise ; So I may gladden your eyes, Willingly up will I stump, Watching with patriot gaze Cocoa and clocks as they rise, Films and bassoons on the jump. I that have nothing to spare Cheerfully part with the same; Little I envy their pile, Misers that grudge you your share; His is the joy of the game, His who can pay with a smile. O. 2) ONE,OF THE BULLDOG BREED. [‘‘ Anindent isa wondrously perfected device for whitening the hair of the officer involved.’”"—Mr. Arnorp Bennetr in “The Daily News.’’} Lieut. and Acting-Quartermaster Denton-Smythe sat in his office prepared for the nerve-sacking process of filling in the daily indent. Summoning up that courage which is instinctive in the British officer, he opened Army Book B 55 and wrote the name of his unit, “H Bty. 999th Bde. R.F.A.” on the top line. Without resting after the mental strain involved he filled in the word “One” in the space for “No. of day’s rations required;” and again, without pause, filled in the date, “Sept. 20th,” in the space for “Date when rations are required.” Many men would have taken a rest at this point, but Lieut. Denton-Smythe was made of sterner stuff. He only paused long enough to dip his pen in the ink and then entered the number 112 in the space for “ No. of officers, warrant officers, non-com. officers and men,” and the number 112 in the space for “ No. of rations required.” The unflinching sense of duty which characterises our officers was never better exemplified than in the case of Lieut. Denton-Smythe. Even after the exhausting mental effort required to calculate that 112 men would require 112 rations he would not yield to exhaustion. Again dipping his pen in the ink with the same deter- mination with which he would have thrust a bayonet through a German, he put the number 126 in the space provided on the form for “ No. of horses ;” and again, with no outward sign of brain fatigue, he calculated the number of rations required for 126 horses and entered the number 126 in the space provided. Then, gathering together what remained of his superb energy, he signed his name at the foot of the document and laid down his pen. Here one would like to be able to say that he was free to rest—to go on leave for a week, and, attended by loving members of his family, or by one ever dearer than they, to recuperate his jaded brain and shattered tissues. But the Army regulations are callous, and no such happy ending is possible, unless we tamper with truth. The gallant officer had laid down his pen, but his task was still incomplete. He had yet to detach the indent from the book. This done he rose and, with a supreme effort, opened the door and said, “Corporal, send this to the Supply Office.” Then he collapsed. THE SIGNAL. ConcEeRNING the multitudinous charms and stately sweet- nesses of Audrey, much might. be written, but as this is to be an article, as opposed to a book, and as young goddesses, being but human, may be spoilt by a too candid worship, I will here confine myself to her single fault. Audrey is romantic, nay more, she is medieval. When recently I approached her with a certain momentous question, she was fresh from half-a-dozen versions of the “ Tristram and Iseult’’ legend, and to say that she was full of it is to put the case feebly. The sick lover was to infer, you remember, from the white or black sail on the good ship Swan whether his affaire was going smoothly or quashed for ever; and Audrey proposed to tell me my fate by a modernised treat- ment of the idea. After a clear week for reflection, she would meet me by appointment, and if she came clad in brilliant hues I might go to the jewellers’ at once for the ring; but if the tints of her attire were “neutral” all would be over, and I could interview the chemist, with an order for strychnine, at my earliest convenience. The fateful night arrived, and Audrey’s ensemble flung me into mingled triumph and despair. Even to my dull masculine eyes the run of her tints was appallingly neutral ; but there was one solitary gleam of hope. She wore on her breast a screaming red rosette which would have spoilt the beauty of any ordinary girl. Poor tongue-tied coward, I lacked the nerve to insist on an answer outright, and we proceeded with the agenda of the evening, which consisted of a theatre, a modest War-supper, and a taxi home. I trust never again to pass through such torments of doubt and suspense. At last, as we stood on the steps of ‘The Lindens,” whére Audrey dwells, I could no longer silence my anguish. “Tell me, dearest,” I. whispered, hoarse with emotion, “tell me, and put me out of my pain. Are these tints to be taken as brilliant or neutral?” “You silly boy,” she replied, “as if I could dress in bright colours now-a-days! Why, you can’t get anything in that line fit to make up for love or money!” A great wave of hope surged over me. “ But this thing,” I cried, pointing to the scarlet abomina- tion on her breast, ‘it means?” “Sh—h—h!” she whispered. “It’s a dead secret, and papa would disinherit me if he found out. I stole his Civic Volunteer brassard and made a temporary rosette of it. That seemed the handiest way to show what I mean!” My memory has as yet failed to reconstruct fully the next whirling moment, but it is thought, from the undeniable dustiness of my knees on the following morning, that I behaved in the best sixteenth-century style. Audrey informs me that a special on duty outside “ Menaggio,’ four doors away, paused as if in doubt whether to arrest me or not, and at last gave a furious stamp and strode off in disgust. It may be that long years had dimmed the memory of his own youth. Or possibly his feet were cold. Clear as Mud. ‘‘Mr. Withers knows all the machinery of the money market, and he has a lucid style which makes matters plain normally very mysterious and technical to the layman.’’—Addvt. in ‘‘ Cornhill.”’ The right answer to the hospitable “Say when” is “ After the War.”

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Sepremser 29, 1915. WALA UHL Uy i i" af || \ RS SV y Ar ANY wr | iS Aw WN : SM \ Wiha s SQN THE BALKAN QUESTION. Roumania. “COMING IN, FERDIE?” | Burearia. “ WELL, I'M NOT SURE THAT I SHAN’T. I’M FEELING A BIT LESS NEUTRAL | JUST NOW.” i

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SEPTEMBER 29, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 265 N Q ‘ », ‘ Wa SS V. A. D. Nurse. ‘‘Ou, DEAR! \\, NY SS SS IQA WHat sHitt I po? A LIGHT DIET HAS EATEN UP A FULL DIET!”’ DOING HIS BIT. Ministers prate of economy ; Threats of compulsion are rife ; You still preserve your autonomy, Lead a luxurious life. Daintiest footwear to tread upon, Raiment of glossiest silk, Downiest cushions to bed upon, Diet of creamiest milk. Must we convict you of vanity, Gay little dog of Pekin ; Deem you a whelp of Inanity, Crossed with Original Sin ? Can you be deaf to the clarion Call of a nation in arms ? Are you contented to carry on Wrapped in effeminate charms ? Aping the tricks of Society, Pitiful slave of your maw, Begging, though gorged to satiety, Giving a dandified paw ? | No; for, though sprung from another land, Freely you serve in your way, Eager to “ Die for the Motherland” Dozens of times in a day. The Repentant Murderer. Extract from the letter of a girl to her friend :— . . . We have had two Zeppelins over here this week, one last night which mother saw | going to church, and one on Tuesday ... .”’ | ‘‘Lapy would like to meet occasionally | elderly lady living alone for companionship.’ Glasgow Herald. | This type of occasionally elderly lady |is only to be found in Ireland, From an essay on the Press Censor- |ship by an L.C.C. scholar aged nine :— , ; é | **When'a man prints something that the Government don’t wish the people to know the newspapers.Jeave a blank. It is called | stop-press news.’’ Vestments for the Church Militant. From a Parish Magazine: — ‘*We have also been presented with a red cope, which is very nice, but unfortunately | the boxing gloves for which an appeal was | made have not yet appeared.”’ From a German description of the fighting in the West :— the French infantry whizzed over our heads.”’ Vernon News (British Columtna). Hence the name “ piou-piou.” ‘* Tf the airship is near or overhead, lie down and get on the lee side of a wall, which will break the blast, should a bomb explode near at hand, placing that wall between yourself and the window or windows.’’—Daily Mail. We fear the portable wall will present some difficulties. ‘* WANTED, CELLARMAN, one illegible for military service, live in preferred.’’ Yorkshire Post. he might try to improve his hand- writing. Whilst living in his subterranean retreat | ‘* With faint shrieks, like scared little birds,

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266 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. (SEPTEMBER 29, 1915. THE SHIRKER. I wap never beaten Petherby; not that he is a billiard expert, but merely that I ama rabbit. A masterly series of two nursery cannons, varied some- times by (and very occasionally coupled with) a hazard is all I aspire to. Peth- erby, on the other hand, can generally manage to score something every time, and not infrequently runs into some of the humbler double figures. The truth is that I do not possess the discriminating eye of a Dicaue for the niceties of angles. But I have one facility of which I am proud and to which I shall allude later. A few weeks ago, at Petherby’s house, I found him in one of his rare off moods. These off moods of his generally signify nique was concerned, but I felt that by careful aiming (so as to hit the paint without disturbing the ivory, as I ex- pressively put it when narrating the incident to Pilkington) I could manage to run in. So I took a deliberate aim and pressed my cue gently forward. Slowly, slowly my ball trickled up the table, straight as a die all the way. It was only a few inches from the red and still running true when the electric lights went out. At the same instant a loud report was heard, followed immediately by a second and third. “Zepps!” cried Petherby. ‘“ Where’s my umbrella?” “There ’s other game afoot,” I cried, as I fumbled for my cigarette-lighter. The wick flamed up. I hurried to the top of the table. My ball was in that he beats me by a mere 150 or so in 250 up, instead of by the more customary margin of 200 or more. But on the night in question Petherby was playing so shockingly and I so brilliantly, (on two successive visits to the table I had played for safety and scored a clear board each time), that at length I was 240 to his 247. It was my turn to play. My first stroke, though not exactly yielding the result I had in mind, was nevertheless a most satis- factory and comprehensive one. I made a cannon off the red, and then my ball and Petherby’s mysteri- ———— ously disappeared down different pockets. Petherby applauded with the butt of his cue upon the floor. “Good shot, Sir!” he remarked sar- castically. ‘ What a pity it didn’t all come off!” “All come off!” I said with hauteur. “Why, it did all come off — much better than I could have hoped for even in my most sanguine moments. What do you mean?” “Oughtn’t the red to have done something—gone down a pocket, for instance? Then you would have won the game. As it is , “Petherby,” I said sternly, “re- member, please, that there are three balls, six pockets, and certain laws of coincidence which must operate at times. the finger of Providence. not intended to win this game. look at the position of the red.” The red was up the table close to the left cushion. To pot it was an im- possibility as far as my limited tech- You are Just “Get BACK BELGIUM? CAMPIN’ ON THE ’ILL GETS OUT THERE! NO OTHER WAY THEY ’LL PINCH IT!’’ In that stroke I distinctly see | GET IT BACK? the pocket. “Hurrah!” I shouted joyfully. ‘Game to me!” “On the contrary,” said Petherby, craning his neck over my shoulder, “it’s my game. You’ve given three away! That red’s never budged a | hair’s-breadth, I ‘ll swear.” | “Rot!” I retorted. ‘I couldn’t possibly have missed. I was dead on ‘the edge of the red when the lights | went out.” “Can you solemnly affirm you heard 'the balls click?” | «Of course not, you ass,” I replied. “How could I through that beastly firing? On the other hand, did you see Ine miss ?” | “How could I in the dark?” answered testily. . “Exactly,” Isaid. “I couldn’t hear; /you couldn't see. As you maintain \that the red hasn’t moved, the fairest \thing will be for me to play the shot ‘again. Do you happen to have a candle on you?” There was a knock at the door and he You WAIT TILL YON CHAPS Ir THEY CAN’T GET IT BACK the servant entered. “If you please, Sir,” she said, “the police sergeant has just been, and said you’re wanted at once at the station.” “T must go immediately,” said Petherby, struggling into his jacket. “What a nuisance these Zepp raids are, interfering with one’s amusements in this way! Really, I e “ Half a jiffy!” I cried as Petherby moved to the door. “ Wait while I play that shot again. Anybody would think there was a panic from your positively indecent haste.” “Sorry,” said Petherby, edging off, “but duty is duty. Where would my crest of five oysters rampant gules on a plat du jour argent be if my knightly ancestors had preferred billiards to duty? So long!” | “There’s a precedent for it,” I retorted. “ How about Drake’s game of bowls?” But Petherby was half- way down the staircase. "| “S$hirker!” I yelled after 842,88 him as I realised that the RAC issue must remain un- sees | decided. But stay ~ | “Mary,” I said, ‘would you take this lighter and ‘hold it close to the red ‘ball—so? Now, I want | you to watch the red ball Ny carefully and tell me if this er eS white one, which I am a aS + going to play, touches it.” ai Bs I placed my own ball | back in baulk, took a long |and careful aim, and then ae somehow I managed _______ to miscue. “No, Sir, it didn’t hit the red one,” said Mary, as my ball stopped a few inches from the baulk-line. I pretended to heave a sigh of re- lief. “Thank goodness!” I exclaimed. “Properly to explain the object and effect of that stroke, Mary, would necessitate my using technicalities which you would probably not under- stand. I think, under the circum- stances, you had better not mention to Mr. Petherby that I required your assistance. He might consider it an abuse of his hospitality.” “ Very good, Sir,” said Mary as she exchanged the cigarette-lighter for half-a-crown. Sir Josern Lyons on the Budget :— ‘‘The British people have given their sons and their fathers and their brothers to carry on the war, and they are not going to kick even if they have to give their boots to help to support them.’’—Evening News. We ourselves never kick with our boots off.

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ds yn nt WwW SEPTEMBER 29, 1915, PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARI VARI. BELLONA’S HEM. | THE MIsTAKE. THERE is no need to specify the res- | taurant. It is famous for its English joints, and is just now much visited by officers on leave who wish to eat together, just as a certain subterranean grill-room is the favourite resort of officers on leave when, as not in- frequently happens, they entertain the other sex. | To one of the tables, thoughtfully provided with so many chairs that secrets have ever been out of the ques- tion here, came two lieutenants, very obviously off duty for a brief season and rejoicing in their liberty; and he who was acting as host, and had long since settled all doubts as to what their meal was to consist of, flung out the order for roast beef almost before he was seated ; flung it out too as though expecting 4s instant a response from the staff as he gets from his men, all unmindful that this restaurant has | leisurely processes of its own, carefully acquired and perfected during many, many years. Meanwhile the saddle of mutton was wheeled to my side and some unusually attractive slices were separated from | ON it by a knife like a razor and laid | | before me. | . . | I saw the lieutenants eyeing my | plate with ill-concealed envy; but beef | was in their minds. Beef had been in| their minds for toilsome weeks, and | they did not betray their friend. At) | least not wholly, but I fancy the host wavered. | “T wonder,” he began, and said no} more, for the beef arrived on its little wagon, and their plates were soon covered with it. It was not one of the most successful of the house’s joints, and again I caught their eyes directed towards my saddle. Was it too late? their expression silently asked. Yes, it was. Besides, they had come there to eat beef. Nothing like | beef ! The heutenants attacked with vigour, | | but they still glanced muttonwards now and then, meditatively, between bites. Then the host spoke. It was in an | undertone, but I heard, because at this restaurant, as I have said, there are no secrets. ‘I wonder if we oughtn’t to have had saddle,”’ he murmured. “It looks jolly good,” said the other. They ate on. “ Do you think the beef is absolutely | top-hole to-day ?” the host asked. “T’ve known it better,” replied the other. They ate on. “T rather wish we’d had mutton,’ said the host. ‘ After all—saddle, you | Policeman (cautioning Impostor). “ AN’ THERE WEREN’T NO BANTAMS WHEN YOU WA Maes . ee NOT SO MUCH OF THE S FLOURISHIN’.” ‘OLD §°LDIER’ STUNT. know. It’s not too common. Beef we can always get in some form or other —not like this, of course, but beef— whereas saddle, saddle’s rare. I wish you'd reminded me of the saddles here.” ‘We'd settled on beef long ago,’ said the other, performing prodigies of valour with his knife and fork. “T know; but it was foolish not to look at the bill of fare. I should have thought of it then.” They still ate heartily. ‘No chance of getting here again for goodness knows how long,” said the host. The other dismally agreed. “Could you manage a slice of saddle after this?”’ the host asked after a busy interval. “Sorry I couldn’t,” replied the other, through a mouthful which a lion would not disdain. “T don’t believe I could either,” said the host. “What a bore! I shall always regret not having had mutton.” “So shall I,” said the other. At this moment the empty seat next to me was filled, and to the enquiry of the head waiter, whose duty it is to ask these questions and then disappear, the customer replied, ‘Saddle, of course. That ’s all one comes here for.” Both the lieutenants groaned audibly. Full though they were, their lunch, already ruined by me, was ruined once more. ‘‘THe TypHoon AT SHANGHAI. Most of the German-owned yachts were lost.’’—Overland China Mail. Doubtless the German Ambassador at Peking has demanded compensation for the non-neutral behaviour of the typhoon.

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268 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | ([SepTEMBER 29, 1915. CAMP QUARTERMASTERING. II. Matilda rather misled me on the question of buying meat. She said that there was no particular trick about it; that all you have to do is to go to a place where they sell meat and buy it, taking care that you get the right weight and that the man does not throw too much bone and bits of sheep’s head and cow’s feet on the scale. She said that a purveyor of meat is easily identified because he wears a peculiar blue costume and that the only other person you can possibly mistake for him is a wounded soldier. I got into the right kind of place first time and said, “*I should like to see some meat.” The man didn’t take any notice of me until he had finished cutting off and wrapping up in newspaper a lump of meat for a ready-money customer. Then he said, ‘‘ What kind of meat ?”’ “ Beef and mutton and such like things.” The butchgr affectionately slapped the piece of meat which he had been carving and said, “‘That’s a nice piece of steak.” “How much meat have you got there?” I asked. “About five pounds; I'll weigh it | for you.” “T think I shall want rather more | than that.” He fetched down quite a large piece of meat off a hook, weighed it, and said it was twenty-two pounds. “T was thinking of buying a larger piece than that,” I said. “How much was you wanting ?”’ “The piece I had in mind should weigh between three and four thousand pounds.” The eager look which came into his eyes was quickly succeeded by something akin to fear as he went to the door to make sure the policeman was taking his usual afternoon nap in the neighbourhood. “If you was wanting to buy meat, I can sell it you, but if you was looking for a flock of sheep or a herd of oxen, I admit I haven’t got ’em in stock.” “T don’t necessarily want to take it all with me,’ I said. “What with my boy leaving me and my assistant joining the Army, | Army you'll have to go to the meat| anyone but ourselves, and we only market.” ‘caught little things like rheumatism The meat market is a dull place ;| and indigestion. If anyone does find out the mention of thousands of pounds about it I shall apologise for my mis- of meat doesn’t excite the inhabitants | take and trust to his being too busy in the least, and they were rather bored to do anything further in the matter. with my little order; however, they| The camp was rather a success; we condescended to deliver the stuff for got most of the tents to stand up and me after totting it up in sheep and| some of them kept the rain out, includ- oxen. ‘ing those that mattered (I mean, of In spite of the fact that I had the course, mine and the Commandant’s and vinegar and more than one kind of the Adjutant’s). By marking all the meat, both Matilda and the Quarter- | things ‘ Goods for Troops ”’ I persuaded master-Sergeant thought that the men | the railway company to deliver most of would expect a still greater variety, and our provender in the belief that they under protest I added a few things| were helping the Government, who are like bread, jam and cheese. I avoided} among their best customers in these small tradesmen in making these pur- | days. I showed the Government mark chases, as they are so suspicious, and | on the tents to the railway people, and only dealt with people who had the | they weren't to know, any more than I capital to carry a decent-sized stock. | was when I bought them, that it was When the War Office heard about | the condemned mark. the things that Matilda and the Quarter-|_ The vinegar didn’t go so well as I master-Sergeant had persuaded me to| had expected and [ had a*good deal buy they naturally got jealous and) left on my hands in spite of the fact started sending out circulars to say/ that I got quite a lot off in the shape that they weren’t going to put up with any competition with their camps and that all camps without their name on were spurious and contrary to law. Of course I didn’t worry about the War Office because I know that their printed circulars don’t mean anything and are only sent out to do the printers and the post-office a turn, but the Adjutant and our Commandant (who is in the regular army and doesn’t understand War Office humour) seemed | to think that we ought to scratch the camp. They got the idea that I had let myself into some kind of a mess by what they were pleased to term my | premature purchase of goods, and the |idea seemed to amuse them until I| ‘explained that I had bought all the| 'goods in their names and that when the Corps funds were exhausted they | would be personally responsible for | the balance. So they went to talk to the War} Office about it, and met all the other | Volunteer Commandants and Adjutants | up there on the same errand. When | the War Office found how unpopular | their circular had made them, and| how they couldn’t move about without | falling over Volunteer Commandants and Adjutants, they said they didn’t object to camps being held if the | of claret-cup, which I retailed in the canteen. Some of the meat rounded on me and was accorded a military funeral, but not enough to make a fuss about. I had to pledge locally what was left of the Commandant’s and the Adjutant’s credit to make up for the unused vinegar and defective meat, but there has been no trouble on that score up to now as they won't know about it until the bills come in, and by that time I shall either be on permanent | leave or else have enlisted. “ PACIFIST.” Late produced upon the scene, Mean as what you’re meant to mean, Manufactured and absurd, Maimed and miserable word, While I live you shan’t prevail, Mongrel docked of half your tail. Mongrel with a Latin head, Disappear, avaunt, be dead ! More War-time Economy. ‘‘In the drawing-room the two women, huddled together in the big chair, wept into one another’s eyes.”—London Magazine. ‘*« A rapy highly recommends bright, capable gentleman as USEFUL COMPANION. Domesti- cated, nursing experience ; can cook; musical. Age 35.’’—Church Times. I haven't got time to waste joking.|G.O.C.’s of the various districts didn’t | We know of a vacancy that would just Perhaps you was thinking of giving | object. Some people, who took the War | suit him. It is “Somewhere in France.” a party?” “No I wasn’t; I just wanted some meat, but I see you aren’t accustomed | Office literally, wrote to the G.O.C.'s | of the respective districts where they | | proposed to camp and got leave, which | ‘« The really bad weather, the heavy winter rains, when all the mullahs on the peninsula will be carrying rushing torrents to the sea, to serve large families and I’d better; was then cancelled by the War Office. | does not begin until the end of November.” try elsewhere. I suppose it’s possible |For myself, I took no such risk; and | Evening Paper. to buy meat for a battalion somewhere|as neither the War Office nor the| By which time, we trust, some means in this town.” G.O.C. of any district found out about | will have been found of diminishing the “If you want to buy meat for the|our camp we didn’t do any harm to| fluency of these holy men.

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5. only tism l out mis- busy er. - we and ‘lud- 1, of sand the uded st of they ) are hese nark and an I was is I deal fact 1ape the 1ded tary fuss vhat the the but core out that vent an, nen, into able esti- ical. | ust se.” nter sula sea, ” i. ans the SEPTEMBER 29, 19195.] ~ PUNCH, OR at BRASS st PSS 28 SAN See ‘ THE LONDON CHARIVARL. wy ‘ oe t= — aS Aus — =. SS S—VowWN my SS ) \ S alll ‘une | | Ahi ex ~~ \ SS ALS SX \ THE COMPLEAT OUTPOST. LIQUOR CONTROL. | Scene.—Clydebank Car at Queen Street, Glasgow ; upstairs. TimE.—Approaching midnight. Cheery Fellow (O.H.M.S. badge in buttonhole). Gees! I walkit up the stair withoot a grup, an’ I’ve the sweeties for the weans in ma pouch. They ‘ll be pittin’ a ribbon across ma chest sune like the high head bosses in the sojers. A blue ane! Man, it’s great ! Dazed Companion (a bowl of gold- | fish hanging from a string). Jist like gaun tae a funeral wi’ yer umberel’ an’ comin’ hame withoot it, an’ no’ jist sure whit ye’ve lost. Jist a something like ! Dismal Friend (a shock of red hair | protruding from under his cap). I’m fed up. Cheery Fellow. Be a sport, Pate. | Ye’ve been grousin’ a’ nicht. I heard ye tearin’ the rag wi’ the lang fella ahint the coonter. Dismal Friend (with a great air of candour). No’ kennin’ muckle aboot saft drinks, mine aye bein’, as ye ken, boys, a glass an’ a pint, I ses tae the lang chap quite ceevil-like, ‘‘ Whit wid ye recommend ?” ses I. “ Dry ginger,” says he. “Dry?” ses I; “af coorse I’m dry. I’m a chap that’s aye dry. | behind his ear). I aye likit ma bit joke. | Bit ma name’s Pate, an’ if ye ca’ me| Ginger again I'll gi’e ye a bat in the |lassie wi’ the tickets whaur wis the eye.” names o’ their silly drinks ? Lady Conductor. Fares, please. Dazed Companion (in an undertone). Is it a wumman? Pate, I’m sayin’, is it a wumman ? Dismal Friend (viciously). If this wis a Seterday nicht worth ca’in’ a| Seterday nicht it would tak’ twa men. | Cheery Fellow (with an ingratiating | «The Simla Choral Society will give two smile). Three, miss. A’ the road. I | performances of Bleat pair of Sirens by Sir wid gang tae Balloch jist tae be on the | Hubert Parry.’’"—Pioneer. same caur wi’ ye. The temptation of ULyssEs was greater Dazed Companion (waking up). Ay,| than wethought. They probably made an’ back. sheep’s eyes at him. [Lady conductor passes on with | - heightened colour. Cheery Fellow (pushing his ticket | fed up. [The car proceeds on its temperate way. Another Impending Apology. ‘WOUNDED MAN’S TRYING TIME. WASHED BY A DUCHEss.’’ Evening News (Sydney, N.S.W.). | ‘Truly the figures in the annual report of that virulent Bank provide veritable Jack Johnsons of optimism.”’ Hamilton Advertiser. [Silence falls on the car. This is what happens when the War Dazed Companion. I canna jist bot- expert is switched off to finance. tom this, Tam. It’s Seterday nicht sapiens an’ this is the Clydebank caur, an’| «he Spanish Royal family is now at the there’s naebody singin’ an’ naebody | seaside, and King Alfonso takes sea bathes. fechtin’ wi’ the conductor. | He has a little pavilion in the Royal garden, Cheery Fellow (a trifle awed). It’s which is on rails, and is run down to the sea " bie is : Pus when he is ready for hisdip. All the time the like gettin’ intae a first-class cairriage | King occupies this elaborate bathing box the wi’ a workman’s ticket. Spanish Royal standard floats overhead."’ Dazed Companion. Ay, aboot half- Sunday Chronicle. past five when papaw is gettin’ hame| And when the Kive has finished they for his tea. dip the ensign. Dismal Friend. I wantit tae ask the | Hoo wis I tae ken the silly| body. Like a daith in the hoose. I’m |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. (SerteMBeR 29, 1915, 7 mee — > Dame (from the provinces, with hazy ideas about the defences of London). ‘‘ Deary, ME! Sir Percy WHAT’Ss-’IS-NAME A-STANDIN’ BY * “ a =: Aa aun wit MN jars Ny || WAND Ae | J - we, THE CANNON.”’ ao \ Sserrmmrrss ce. Crt HTL pa ee ae = — o =- Wett, I NEVER! AND THAT MUST BE AT THE BACK OF THE FRONT. Ir is true that in a sense all the home seas may be regarded as a front. | And yet inwardly I have doubts as to whether I really am at the moment exactly what you might call frontal. Though correctly swathed in a ceinture de sauvetage I feel. neither nautical, martial, nor amphibious. I defy any- | one to feel nautical in a service dress | jacket, martial in a life-belt, or am- phibious in ammunition boots. Martial is my short suit at the moment. For one thing, any front there is is underneath. even with both my honest straight- forward eyes at their widest can I hope to convince Q. R. S. T. U. and other gentlemen with alphabetical occupa- tions that I am not a deserter creeping and intruding and climbing into the War. They will begin by saying, almost apologetically, that they don’t doubt my bona fides (with four false quanti- ties) for a moment. They will then doubt it exhaustively for three-quarters- of-an-hour, by which time my train will—as happens eventually even to trains in France—have gone. I shall returned at 12.28. With one eye on his watch the A.B.C.D.E. held out the other hand. I shook it warmly. “ No, no,” he said, “I want your leave papers—movemeni order, and all that.” It was 12.30 exactly when I began my explanation. At 12.35 I had reached its crowning feature. At 12.40 he realized that it was I who wanted a movement order. By 12.42 I had it in triplicate, with permission to travel by any train that day. I believe that if I could have hung on till 12.45 I could have got another seven days’ leave. Even as things For another, I- have lost my leave | arrive at dawn to-morrow just in time| were I have the pleasantest recollec- papers—if indeed I ever had any. In a}to be shot. few hours, barring accidents, I shall be turned off on to an unsympathetic quay, under orders from one race of red-hatted men eighty miles away from it to report to them this morning, and forbidden by another race of red-hatted men on the spot to proceed anywhere until I have given an account of my- self; which just happens to be one of do. My blind pig is considered one of | It is true that the last|tions of the A.B.C.D.E. I reported time I was shot at dawn I got up and | everywhere to everybody’s satisfaction, walked away. But this is not a reliable | and have not been shot at all to-day so precedent, and I regard the future with the most perfect despondency. All I can do is to write the word “ Later.” Later it is. Let me give you a hint ; if you should ever, in a military town, fall upon the réle of the Man who Re- quires Explaining and are told to report he lunches. When we landed, I went | | far. And I haye spent the morning | wondering who put my leave papers at | the bottom of my haversack. ‘* FINEST QUALITY GREY-FACED LAMB :— Fores, 11d. per Ib, Lions, 1s. per lb.’’ Adtt. in “* Bermholme News.”’ the few insignificant things I cannot |to the A.B.C.D.E. find out what time A foretaste of the Golden Age. the finest outside the Central Powers, | straight to the A.B.C.D.E.’s office and! « Join the regiment that has guarded you and I can play selections from several | there extorted by intimidation from an | for the last 230 years.” . drawing-room ballads with my eyes outpost the news that the officer usually Advt. of the 3rd E. Yorkshires. shut and my left hand open; but not| went out to lunch at 12.30 exactly. I| Now then, step up, Methuselah. | | |

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CAN’T

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SEPTEMBER 29, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 273 ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. (EXTRACTED FROM THE Diary oF Tosy, M.P.) House of Commons, Tuesday, 21st September.—Introducing his first Bud- get McKenna scored a double record. In respect both of income and ex- penditure he had to deal with the biggest of a long list. The speech ex- pounding it was the briefest. Marshalling a multitude of figures, from the extra halfpenny in the pound in the price of sugar up to the 1,590 million pounds representing esti- mated expenditure of the year, his mastery of facts was so complete, his explanation so lucid, that the story was as easy to follow as an ordi- nary nursery tale. Time was during the prime of GLADSTONE at the Treas- ury, and with his successors in later years, when exposition of a Budget was regarded as opportunity for a great oratorical feat. Mr. G. thought nothing of occupying five hours, finishing up | with a peroration almost worth an additional penny in the pound on the income tax. No self-respecting Chancellor of the old school would think of omitting to deck his business statement with a classical quotation, much appreciated | below the Gangway. This habit led to first step in downfall of Bos Lowe. Allured by the tag, Ex luce lucellwm, he invented a tax upon matches with intent to label the boxes with the motto. In the end, as everyone knows, he had to remodel his Budget, leaving out the | obnoxious tax, label and all. McKewna’s speech began without exordium, finished without peroration, and no single sentence rose above the | Spartan simplicity of the Multiplication Table. Only approach to departure | from this level was when he mentioned the dizzy height at which expenditure | | than one-third of the whole. now flies. He thereupon declared his confidence that House and country were prepared to support the Government in bearing whatever measure of taxation is deemed necessary now, “and,” he ominously added, “in the future,” for the successful prosecution of the War. A hearty cheer confirmed this assur- ance. Cheerfulness was indeed the prevail- ing note of historic occasion. Fresh | | burden of taxation imposed enormous. | Affects every class, from the consumer | of half-ounces of tea and quarters- | of-a-pound of sugar to the hapless millionaire who out of his modest in- come of a hundred thousand pounds a year will be called upon to contribute to the State the sum of £34,029—more | This, of course, in addition to his share of in- direct taxation. | it. As the MEMBER For Sark says, LLoyD GEORGE chastised the taxpayer with THE WITNESS FOR THE DEFENCE. whips; McKenna lays on with [The Daily Chronicle's ‘‘ Office Window" scorpions. And yet no murmur is| advances—or quotes—the theory that as long heard In November last Lzoyp|*.*.™" retains a zest for apple tart his . : : . | childish innocence is unimpaired. } GEORGE imposed fresh taxation esti- | . mated to bring in a revenue of 68}| P#EY haled him up before the beak, millions. On the top of that McKenna | Within the dock he stood unflinching levies new taxes, which in a full effec- | And heard the leading witness speak tive year will increase the revenue by The tale of his nocturnal pinching ; little short of 78 millions. | Policeman X proclaimed the fact A big bill, but it will be met uncom- | (It marked in his career a sure step) plainingly, with any furthercharges that Of how he caught him in the act, may presently be necessary for carrying Or, more precisely, on the doorstep. on the War to its inevitable end. | ; Business done.—Budget brought in They told the Court the total gain Achieved by his illicit cunning, The household purse, a watch and chain, A cup that father got for running, | And how (which broke the housewife’s heart | And stamped him as a cool offender) He'd gobbled up an apple tart | Of more than normal bulk and splendour. | It seemed that he would have to pay | The heavy price that those who've sinned owe ; But no, the magistrate that day Was one who loved his “ Office Window ”’ And put its precepts into use He bade them set the felon loose, ‘*Put it down a Wee, my Lud.” ‘‘VerNoN.—At 14 Cavendish street, Geelong, the wife of Hugh Vernon (late Chief Scout, Field Intelligence Department, South Africa) —a daughter (‘‘ Veni Vidi Vici’’ Vernon). Another little Briton! Now then, boys, enlist, and keep her so.’’—Melbourne Argus. With another “ for Victory. A STAR TURN, THE CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER, 7 mm " ~y ry: 5 Fe showing expenditure for the year of From The Burma Sunday Times: 1590 millions and revenue from taxa- tion of 305 million. When full effect is given to new imposts, the latter will be raised to sum of 370 million. ‘*Missinc.—My son Sudhamadhab Ban- nerjee, aged 12 years is missing since Monday the 5th instant. His colour is blackish and is thin in appearance, height 4 ft. 7 inches. He | has sore marks on both the legs and has a | black spot or (Til) on his left cheek close to | the ear, narrow forehed covered with hair in | circular form, slender neck floating eyes. He A Flying Squadron. ‘‘Among other noteworthy aviation feats, | had blue Kashmere Ulster over a Cananore | | green coat, a pair of black brushed shoes and a Dhutee bordered with black line. If any one can trace him out he shall be rewarded | adequately. Nunpotat Banergi, of Joyna- . |gort, at present 21 Ramtonu Bose Lane, ° in. = 90 Phrase to be avoided. Calcutta. When seeing off a friend who is going | Mr. Punch gladly gives further publicity to the Front :—* Well, good-bye, if you | to this announcement. must go; and we hope soon to see your | name on the Roll of Honour.” the cruisers Varese Francesco Ferruccio, Giu- seppe Garibaldi, and Vettor Pisani bombarded the railway at dawn on the 18th near Cattaro.”’ Sydney Morning Herald. The A.S.C. again! aa ‘‘Rev. Z. Lawrence delivered a lecture on Letter of thanks from a small boy *— | the ‘ War’ toa crowded audience in the Bloem- ‘*Dear AuntTIE,—Thank you so much for fontein Synagogue last night. The lecturer's the steamship; we have looked at it well and | remarks were followed with the keenest in- I am sure that there is something wrong with | terest, especially the part played by the Jaws.” 3est love, ANTHONY.”’ The Friend, Bloemfontein. (A man should profit by his reading); | Saved bya pie’simpassioned pleading. |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. [SepTeMBER 29, 1915,

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aaa . \ i Lady (to prospective Charwoman). ‘‘ WHAT DO YOU CHARGE PER DAY?”’ Charwoman. ‘‘ WELL, MUM, TWO-AND-SIX IF I EATS MESELF, AND TWO SHILLINGS IF YOU EATS ME.”’

JIMMY’S UNCLE. Jimmy’s Uncle is coming. But _ perhaps you know. The telegraph boy | told Jimmy as he was bringing the telegram ; he was coming by the three o'clock train the telegraph boy said. | Jimmy’s Uncle is a Colonel—didn’t I tell you ?-- and Jimmy’s mother hadn't seen him for years and years, and longer than that, Jimmy says—not since she was in India. Jimmy’s Uncle used to know Jimmy’s father quite well, because you see they had been brothers, and Jimmy’s Uncle knew all about Jimmy’s father winning the Victoria Cross in India; but you haven’t got to talk about that or Jimmy will fight you—really, I mean, not pretend. Jimmy says his Uncle has got a piece of shrapnel in him, and they won't let him stay at the Front, because it hasn’t burst yet, and that’s why he is coming to see his mother. Jimmy says the shrapnel might burst at any time, and then it would blow a hole ten feet deep in the ground, but it would ease his Uncle because he has to walk very quietly and not get excited now.

|

hear it ticking. It makes his Uncle very wary, and he has to avoid certain | things at mealtimes which are not easily digested because the doctor says the shrapnel is quite enough. Jimmy has seen the porter at the station, and he has promised to stop the train; you do it by the by-laws, Jimmy says. Jimmy told the porter he expected | his Uncle would give him some rupees if he looked after the luggage well, and the porter took Jimmy to see his; he grew them in a plot of ground quite close to the line when he wasn’t busy cleaning the station lamps. He asked | Jimmy if his Uncle soaked his in| paraftin before sowing—you do it be- cause of the sparrers. The porter knew all about India; he | told Jimmy that the Hoodans out there lived on rice pudding, and it was very hot there because of the degrees of longitude, which were very warm in those parts. The porter hadn’t been there, not

It’s because of the time fuse they | thought about India because he couldn't | put in them, Jimmy says, and you can |abear rice pudding. z. He said Jimmy might safely leave his Uncle to him. Jimmy went to bed early so as to give the next day a chance. His mother nearly spoilt the day before it came because she put out his _ best sailor suit for him to wear and gave him three pennies to have in his pocket but not to spend. He said his Uncle would think it was Sunday, and he put his head under the bedclothes to show what he thought of her. However, he let her hold his hand tight for an hour and ten minutes before he went to sleep, and when she came to look at him some time later he only smiled in his sleep when she gently removed his feet from the pillow and placed his head there once more. It took the day a long time to break, and Jimmy was glad when he heard the birds tidying up to get ready for it. He looked out of the window ; the day seemed very damp and as if it wanted airing, so he got back to bed. It was eight o’clock, and the day was up and dressed and being busy when he next himself, but he had read a good deal | awoke. when he wasn’t busy cleaning the station lamps. | Jimmy had his mother at the station He said he’d often} in good time, and they had read all the

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cr wy erwv cre @S YY i —_— wy —= &e 9 SEPTEMBER 29, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. ‘ Zly wy, ‘ Y/ id 4 4k : nnn ee BT 1 Rl ‘‘THE UMPIRE SAYS YOU’RE TO STOP FOR TEN MINUTES, AS THE ENEMY HAS TAKEN UP THE WRONG POSITION!’”’ by-laws several times over before the train came in. Jimmy says his Uncle looked very | fieree when he arrived at the station and saw his mother. It made his | mother cry, and she wouldn't speak to him, and that only made his Uncle grow fiercer and redder in the face. Jimmy says he thought the shrapnel was going to burst. Jimmy says his Uncle didn’t take any notice of him, although he kept on saluting him as hard as he could. Then his Uncle turned on him and glared at him and asked him what the dickens he meant standing there looking so much like his father. Jimmy said it made his mother very angry, and she said, ‘‘ Don’t, Tom, don’t,” and cried worse than ever. Jimmy says he clenched his fists and was going to give his Uncle the coward’s blow when his Uncle turned his back on him and told the porter not to stand scratching his head like an idiot. Jimmy says the porter was only saluting all the time but he wasn’t used to it, and every time he got his hand to his head he forgot what he set out to do and scratched his head instead. Jimmy says they drove home in a cab, and neither his Uncle nor his mother said a word to each other all the way, they were so cross. Jimmy says his Uncle had a bad cold and kept blowing his nose, and every | |he thought of him. 'Uncle might be made a better man. Lo) |His mother said, “Oh, Jimmy!” but ogg did it the cab-horse gave | THE NEW SMOKE. Jimmy savs his Uncle behaved better | (The newspapers have published accounts after tea. He wasn’t so fierce, so he | of the satisfactory results of planting asked him to show him his wound, but | tobacco in Hampshire.) his Uncle said it was under his binder | Goop people, give hearing attentive, and he couldn’t. | Dismissing the havoc of Mars, After the tea-things had been put | While I sing of the newest preventive away they all three went into the draw-|_ Of public and family jars ; ing-room to look at the large framed | It has proved the most potent incentive photograph of Jimmy’s father. Jimmy | To pithy and popular “ pars +e : says they each held one of his hands,|’ Tis the latest result of the Nicotine and he had to bite his lip because they cult— Eine 2 hurt. The Hampshire cigars. Jimmy says his Uncle didn’t think | 7g jike to describe, but I canna, much of the photograph. He Just said The scent which this product exhales ; “ He was a man, Mary, a man;” then | ¢ blends the bouquet of Havannah he went very annoyed in the face,| With that of the rabbits of Wales; clicked his heels, saluted very hard and | '9,6;67, wirrasthrue and alannah ! turned away. ; ; It could throw an express off the rails, Jimmy says it made him feel quite} And its potent aroma induces a coma angry with his Uncle, and he went and | When laudanum fails. climbed up on the top of the coalhouse | ‘i in his best clothes on purpose; and he | It acts as a perfect specific wouldn’t come down until his Uncle|_ Against the most violent cramps ; had promised to be good and not to|t wholly defeats the morbific make his mother ery. Jimmy says his|__ Effect of malarial damps, Uncle gave him his word as an officer, Diffusing a balm soporific and they got on better after that. On rival political camps ; Jimmy said his prayers to his Uncle In short it's a blessing beyond my that night, and he let him know what expressing, He asked that his Tobacco from Hamps! The Rendez-vous. ‘«In cases of emergency Sections fall in as follows :—No. 1, The Fountain, St. Thomas- street.”’—Lymington V.T.C. Orders. his Uncle understood, for he - said, ed «Amen to that, old chap!

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276 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL (SerreMBerR 29, 1915, FEEDING THE NATION. “Up with that lawn! Over with those flower-beds!” Such were the clarion cries of last March, and the family flung themselves into the work of destruction with genuine patriotic ardour. In a couple of days we, the Medhurst family (well known in this suburb as “ the people who hire motor- cars”), no longer possessed a garden. We had a house and a frightfulness. Still it was grand work. I appointed the two youngest children Worm Gatherers in Ordinary (with the occa- sional rank of Earwig Squasher), because, although I can plant seeds with anybody, the handling of reptiles is simply not my sort of work. It was Nothing came up, but I kept on look- ing, despite a certain scornfulness in the home circle. But I had the laugh of everyone inthe end. The seeds came up! PMy pride and joy in the little seed- lings was, however, not long-lived. The critics arrived. Always in life everyone is happy till the critics appear. The first of them in this case was my ridiculous and pompous father-in-law, who, after mumbling coarsely about “ greengrocery,” burst into rude guff- aws because, said he, my celery (the well-known garden esculent) should have been “ pricked off” long ago. I sneered rather hotly, and said other people had other views about the correct period for pricking off (whatever that | I forget what was insulted next. 'But they nearly all caught it. My wife’s brother damned the broad beans and was foolish enough to offer himself for slaughter by inquiring if I’d ever heard of “blight.” Then a near rela- tion of mine, I’m sorry to say, fell fiercely upon my cauliflowers, which, he bitterly complained, were cramped. Broccoli caught 1t too, so did the parsley, _and even the radishes did not go scath- ‘less. I was ashamed, of course, but, having created my vegetables, I swore I’d stand by them come what may. We would be misunderstood together. Then came the period of our annual holiday by the sea. It was a wrench, but I consoled myself with the reflection ‘that my plants would do their best for the one profession which I did not include in the list of my side-accomplishments for the National Register. My wife, Mrs. Medhurst ' (known as “the woman with four hats”), was given a rake. Let us leave it at that. Ifell| » over it often.” Jacqueline Medhurst, who is now three and can say “J for| | Jacqueline,” gathered weeds and sang at her work. Yes, yes, I know that it was charm- ing of her, but it must be pointed out that she is ac- quainted with but one song and knows but two lines of that. They go like this :— ‘*T’ve got a ripping little motor car, And I’ve got a yacht!”’ oe a RICCARDO — BRo 2 #1 FOOTBALL BOOTS BUY A PAIR TO KICK THE GERMANS UT OF BELGIUM _—! ot. Pay someone to sing those two lines into your ears for six —S— BO) — OVS SP OA Zh PROPRIETOR OF BOOT SHOP TRIES TO BOOM STOCK WHICH THE WAR HAS MADE UNSALEABLE, me in my absence. They as ‘much as whispered it to me when I gave them their fare- well watering. The weeks passed away wearily. I got everything that I could for the nation out of prawns (two), eel (one), minia- (hire of boat, man, wind the lines on and a piece of string to tie fish up coming to 5s. 6d.). Still it wasn’t like growing things, and the day of our return was der Tag for me. Frankly I was knocked. You ought to have seen that garden. Everything had grown furiously ; everything was much bigger. Nothing had stopped. But here I must strike a note of sorrow. With one brave — hours on end. Everyone ought | to try it before reading any further Tried it? Yes, isn’t it? Well, we got the seeds in. only cost two shillings—‘ Somebody’s .|might be); that, anyway, mine was a!noble exception, nothing was eatable. , mug yway p 8 ‘new variety, and I had arranged to| The greenstuff was overrun with cater- Monster Gift Parcel’’—but I had to pay | one shilling for postage as the potatoes made the parcel heavy. Still [ didn’t grudge that as there seemed to be an astonishing number of seeds. In fact when we had filled our garden there were a packet of “ Early to Come” peas, another of Dwarf Kidney Beans, and yet a third of Dobbie’s Champion Leeks left over. I mention this in case anyone would like to buy the surplus. They ’re still all right, except the peas, which have been “played with” by Alastair Medhurst, and the bean bag, which is frayed along one edge. No beans have escaped, mind, but the bag | has unquestionably depreciated (I will allow for this). by callers. And when he’d gone I pricked them off because I remembered you don’t eat the green stuff at the end. But then they stopped growing. There followed an attack upon my onions. The solicitor next door caught sight of them one Sunday morning and, putting his head over the wall, asked if they really were onions. I said they were hardly onions, but had a certain onionimity. I expected ata- vistic tendencies, however. He grinned, because he has been to a public school, and said that I ought to have asked him before trying onions. I apologised and offered to dig them out and begin again. He told me that he was only trying to be friendly and that I’d never get an onion if [ couldn't After the seeds were all in I used to | take a tip. And then he went indoors look at them a good deal, that is to say | to his wife (well known in our suburb The door-step seems to have been rather I looked at the soil which covered them. as “the woman who whistles ”’). They prick off that day if not interrupted | pillars and slugs, the roots were rotting, the beans were tough and coarse, the peas were hard peas, and the radishes were huge and woolly. What remained? My potatoes! My brave, plucky, persevering potatoes! They proved my only stand-by. There are plenty of them, and the family is good enough to approve them. In fact we have more than we can eat. At the side-entrance I have hung an unob- trusive board bearing the legend, “ Med- hurst’s Middlings,” and I charge one halfpenny under market price. So now I am known in our suburb as “ the man who sells potatoes!” | ‘*He accepted another cigar, lit it on the | door-step, and walked away . .. For the moment, Ilkley’s studio was too hot.’’ Premier Magazine. | warm too. the sea — shrimps (several), | ture dab (half), and, on one | glorious day, seven mackerel | lines, | hooks, worms, the thing you | |

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ext. My sans self ever ela- fell ‘ich, ped. sley, ath- but, yore nay. er, nual nch, tion ; for y as | me ‘are- Way | that it of | ral), inia- one | cerel ines, | you | ylece ning like vy of ‘me. ed. that | own uch ped. | note rave | vble. | iter- | ing, | the shes My oes ! here ly is fact At nob- led- one now man 1 the > the ne. ther | Sepremper 29, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL bo ~] ~] THE RIVAL JOBBING GARDENERS. A TraGcic Comepy 1n Four Acts.

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278 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL [SEPTEMBER 29, 1915, “MY DEAR SIR.” He was a small stout round man, with bulging eyes and loose moist lips, evidently an inquisitive gossipy fellow, and he had been talking (very optimistically) about the War and (very pessimistically) about the taxation, fortifying himself, as he proceeded, with quotations from the daily papers, of which he had purchased every available specimen. I could see that he was dying to tell me all about himself, and at last out it came. He looked furtively round the railway compartment, as if to assure himself that nobody was lurking in the rack or under the seats, and spoke. “T presume,” he said, “ that you don’t know whol really am?” “No,” I said, “I don’t. you as a friendly traveller.” “Thanks,” he said; “ but I didn’t mean that. Of course I don't want to push it on you. I only wondered if you’d got any idea of what my work in life is. It’s a unique business and keeps me hard at work, I can tell you. Look here ’—he produced one of his papers and pointed out to me Mr. Liuoyp GrorGe’s letter—“ what do you think of that?” “Very telling,” I said; “ distinguished by all the fire and eloquence and innocence for which L. G. is famous.” “ Yes,” he said, “it’s a pretty thing. Well, that’s me.” “How do you mean ‘that’s me’?” “Don’t you see it’s written ‘to a constituent’? Well, I’m the constituent.” ‘My dear Sir,” I cried, “I congratulate you. To be a Welshman is a great thing; to live in Carnarvon is a gift from heaven; and to be a constituent of the MINISTER OF Munitions must be the summit of earthly felicity,” and I seized his hand and shook it warmly. “ Lord love you,” he said, disengaging himself, “ how you do jump at conclusions! I’m no Welshman; I’ve never been near Carnarvon; and of course, in a technical sense, I’m not a constituent of Luoyp Grorce’s. I’m‘an accom- modation constituent, that’s all. Generally I’m ‘a corres- pondent ’—I’ve done a lot of work for A. J. Batrour in that line—but this time I thought I’d try a new touch and so I turned myself into a constituent. It’s gone off splendidly, hasn’t it?” “ Ye—es,” I said, “ but I don’t quite * “Don’t you see?” he said. ‘“ When one of these big bugs wants to explain something or have a whack at some- body and there’s a hurry about it, he doesn’t wait until his next speech. He just gets down and writes a letter. But the letter must be written to somebody—you can’t sit down and begin ‘My dear Sir’ with any conviction unless there’s a real ‘dear Sir’ somewhere at the back of it all, and that’s where I come in. I lend just the necessary amount of reality to the whole thing.” “ Have you been at the business long?” I said. “Ever since I left school. It’s been handed down in our family from father to son for years and years. My own youngster ’s just started in the Midland Members of Parlia- ment department. He’s showing a lot of promise. Mr. AusTEN CHAMBERLAIN thinks a good deal of him; but of course, being in the Cabinet, Mr. CHAMBERLAIN mostly works through me. His father was a regular gold mine to us, especially during the fiscal controversy ; but there was - end of explaining going on then and we were kept very usy.” “T don’t quite see,” I said, “where you make your profits.” “Oh, that’s easy. We get the originals of the letters, and after a time we sell them, mostly in America. There’s a big market for that sort of thing there. Of course the I haven’t got beyond classing prices don’t run quite so high since type-writers came in, but it’s fairly steady all the same. Anyhow, it keeps me in beef and beer and pudding, and you can’t want more than that, can you?” Actually, of course, I could; but at this moment we drew up at Paddington and I left it at that. A NEW WAY WITH OLD CLOTHES. [‘* Men can save by having fewer changes of costume and by spend- ing less on golfing or holiday suits, or other clothes for occasional wear ; by having their suits and overcoats cleaned and repaired instead of buying new ones; by spending less on gloves and ties, and by having still serviceable boots mended instead of buying new ones.’’—‘* Why we must Save, and How.’’ Parliamentary Savings Committee. ] In tranquil ante-bellum days, when ordering a suit Involved no fiscal problems that were serious or acute, My wardrobe was a constant source of family dispute. Against my passion for old clothes my estimable wife, Supported by. my daughters, waged a never-ending strife ; It was, indeed, almost the only worry of my life. They used to hide away my old unfashionable tweeds, Oblivious of my comfort and regardless of my needs ; They banned my pipe, but never once objected to my weeds. My ancient ties of faded dyes excited their disdain ; My threadbare dinner-jacket caused them veritable pain ; And they criticised my boots in language less polite than plain. They heaped sarcastic obloquy upon my caps and hats ; They made me birthday presents of the most expensive spats, And the latest thing in handkerchiefs, in collars and cravats. In short in half-a-dozen ways they diligently “ biffed” My laudable intentions to promote domestic thrift, Until the struggle threatened to produce a serious rift. But War, though vilely fruitful in sorrow and distress, For one small salutary change I am inclined to bless ; At last I am allowed a perfect latitude in dress. : My ancient clothes, misshapen boots, disreputable ties No longer find disfayour in my wife’s and daughters’ eyes, But, on the contrary, evoke their warmest eulogies. Nay, better still, themselves released from giddy Fashion’s goad, They follow me with docile steps along the frugal road That leads to perfect freedom from the tyranny of Mode. Retreats for Army Chaplains. ‘«The value to the spiritual work of chaplains with the forces in the fighting line of a day spent in retreat must be obvious, as also are the difficulties of. arranging such opportunities.’’—Church Times. Surely the enemy, if they knew, would oblige with a little extra pressure which might produce the desired retreat. “‘The King and Queen slept in a saloon railway carriage at Bishop’s Lydeard the day before they entered Exeter. The royal train re- mained at a railway siding during the night, and took a walk next morning before proceeding to Exeter.”’ Impartial Reporter (Enniskillen). Trains are very human things and after standing motionless all night they find these little early constitutionals very useful for taking off the morning stiffness. After the Collision ? ‘* MoTor-CYCLE, new; cheap or will Exchange for good Bathchair.” | Liverpool Echo.

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Le f — YS _—— | adroitly sustained. SEPTEMBER 29, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Gel THE MORNING AFTER AN AIR RAID. Affable Member of Crowd (surveying broken windows). ‘‘ ExctTING TIMES, Sir! Proprietor of Cinema. ‘‘ Yxs! AND MY BUSINESS RUINED BY THESE HUNS GIVING A FREE SHOW OF THEIR EXCITING TIMES—EH?’’ own.”’ OUR BOOKING-OFFICE, (By Mr. Punch’s Staff of Learned Clerks.) { TAKE it that Mr. Maurice HEwLert designed his new | | novel The Little Iliad (HEINEMANN) frankly as a grotesque, an opinion in which four exceedingly quaint illustrations by Sir Puinip Burne-Jones distinctly confirm me. The story is in quite an original vein, the interest and mystery very We are given a gruesome picture of a physically wrecked but still indomitable sensualist, de- plorably dragging shuffling feet—a Baron von Broderode, married to a very beautiful and gracious woman who had been caught young from out a convent. Enter Hector Malleson, an egregious sentimentalist, heir incidentally of a Highland chieftain. He diagnoses an Andromeda-dragon situation, a thought which apparently had not occurred to the Baroness, who however cordially accepts the suggestion and is made profoundly miserable. Eventually she flies and finds asylum at the head-quarters of the Malleson clan, where three other sons of the house, as also the old chieftain himself, fall hopelessly in love with her. Comes the relent- less Baron in pursuit; and how this modern MENE.LAvs first wins, then loses the game, and where the fair Helena finally bestows her widowed hand, I must leave Mr. HewLert’s diverting little Iliad to inform you. I can promise you good entertainment; and though, as | have hinted, the thing is planned in a freakish mood the author has not let himself off the honest labour of construction and polish. His sympathies are throughout with his wicked Baron, who is a very new version of the strong silent hero, and may fairly be considered a sport. What I refuse to believe about him is that, even though he shot from a pony cart, he “ got his gun up like lightning and fired at the instant,” consider- cigar accurately to his mouth—pathological details that Mr. Hewett has been at pains to rub well in. Something will really have to be done about it. If many more of our novelists take to turning out these prodigiously long stories, we reviewers will have to agitate for payment by piece-work. The latest exponent of the gentle art of garrulity is Mr. E. Temepte Tuurston, with his new novel, The Achievement of Richard Furlong (CHAPMAN AND HALt). There are seven hundred and twenty-eight pages of it, so that when you have turned the- last of them you may perhaps feel that the achievement is not exclusively con- fined to the hero. Richard Furlong was a painter and etcher, and the object of Mr. THurston is to trace his progress from obscurity to fame; but, though he is repre- sented as doing a lot of artistic work in his spare time, it would be more fair to say that the real successes of Richard were gained in the domain of what I might call (wishing to put the matter as delicately as possible) unceremonious polygamy. From the moment when he runs away from the paternal mill, and joins the company of Mr. Taurston’s Drury Lane, his career becomes a sentimental journey from one affair to another. I don’t want to say that there are ing the painful struggles he had to get his, wine-glass or | other heroes in a picturesque slum-existence round about | } }

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280 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. [SepTEMBER 29, 1915, not pleasant passages in the book—there is always a certain jollity in a tale of success—but I do think that justice could have been done to the theme in a smaller compass. In his preface Mr. THurston tells how he came to abandon his intention of publishing three separate books about Richard Furlong’s history, and to bind them instead into one volume. My only comment on this is that it remains true that three of his furlongs make at least a mile. During the last twenty years Sir GILBERT PARKER has written a dozen novels. At such a stage fancy is accus- tomed to flag, and kind-hearted friends are apt to regret that the author has “ written himself out.” This makes more pleasant the discovery that in The Money Master (Hutcu- insoN) Sir GiuBerT surpasses himself. The story opens with ever done before the American ideal of Bigness—its obvious faults and its less obvious merits. “We must be Bigger! Bigger! Bigger! Get people here! Coax them here! Swindle them into coming! Deafen them into coming! Any kind of people! Blow! Boost! Brag! We must be Bigger! We want Bigness!” That was the motto of the town in which Bibbs Sheridan lived, and it was the motto of James Sheridan, his father; and Bibbs, by nature a poet and a dreamer of dreams, found himself forced by circumstances to kill his dreams and plunge in and blow and boost and brag with the rest, until at length there came to hearten him the realization that, hidden beneath all the boosting and bigness, there was a certain something that was also poetry of a kind. In the United States, 7’wrmoil has had a vogue that recalls the days of the old best-sellers, those strange pro- the introduction of Jean Jacques | —— Barbille, miller and money master, | a commonplace man inclined to vanity, buzzing with consciousness | of worldly prosperity built up by, himself. On a voyage homeward- - bound from Europe—where he was | y disappointed when he_ entered Notre Dame, or a great building like the Law Courts at Rouen that people didn’t whisper to each other, ‘‘ Here comes Jean Jacques Barbille ’’—he,made the acquaint- | (~, ance of a Spanish beauty, “a! itt slim and long-limbed Diana.” He| Lh married her, or, to be precise, | it was she who married him, for a comfortable home and relief from| {| penury shared with a scamp of a father. The Reader, a student of human nature with mature know- ledge of its frailties, knows at once what will happen. The beautiful sensuous Carmen, bored with the dulness of daily life in company | Trt t | with Jean Jacques, early succumb- ing, will go off with another man. The Reader is right. What he does not yet know, but should| take the earliest opportunity of | learning, is with what masterful | ies sine ean eae. skill, with what touches of pathos, | asec sae? Gee PEOPLE WE NEVER MEET. ° ‘*I HAVE IT ON THE WORST - ductions which it resembles only in its popularity. It is easily the best novel that Mr. Tarktneron has written. There are flashes of the humour that illumined his Penrod stories, but for the most part the author is grimly in earnest, as befits his theme. It is a story to be read by all who would un- derstand the soul of the country that has produced sky-scrapers and Pittsburg and the Chicago slaughter-houses. ‘Man alive! this is God’s country, and a blind man couldn’t help seein’ it! You certainly stand up for your own town, if you stick to sayin’ you’d rather live there than you would here. You sure are some patriot fm | to say that—after youve seen our city. I’ll show you something now that'll make your eyes stick out.” Thus Mr. James Sheridan to a European visitor, and that is America in a nutshell. There is real stuff—as opposed to stuffing—in Miss M. P. Witt1- cocks’ Change (Hutcuixson). In ‘truth her material is better than her pattern, which is rather casual j}and formless. the dull man, miller and general '|—— dealer, his dross purified in the fire of adversity, is slowly, step by step, transformed into a hero of sublime unselfish- ness. Nearly every page of the story, certainly every chapter, reveals the inventive resources of the author. These never fail, and the reader is, with growing interest, hurried on to the unexpected dénowement. The world of Jean Jacques, a village which the censor may permit refer- ence to as “‘somewhere in the neighbourhcod”’ of Quebec, is peopled with a diversity of characters whose acquaint- ance and environment are refreshing after a long course of ordinary novels. A grievance that the American has against Englishmen is that they pay visits to his country and then try to put it all into a single book. He holds that America is too large a thing to be put into a single book. Yet in Turmoil (Hopper anp StoucHtTon) Boot TarkINGTON has come very near succeeding in this feat. Turmoil, for all that it has only three hundred and twelve pages, covers the whole of one side—and that the most characteristic side—of American life. It puts into words better than anyone has | beginnings, “certainly crowds her embroidery frame with too many figures. But you read her story and comment without skipping She leaves loose | threads, abandons even promising , get pleasure of her characters, who really | seem to be alive and doing, and (I’ll answer for it) you'll | be willing to put up with little defects of form for sake of such fine substance as the patient and indirect wooing of | little brown Bess Latimer charming piece of delicate romance. There is a background , the orphan, by the Professor —a of Starrs, folk whose blood was older and bluer than their | purses were long, and who were other people’s essential inferiority. It is part of the defect of Miss Winucocks’ method that one can’t make out just what the “change” was which one supposes from her title to be the motive of her work. She gives me the impression of not having quite found herself even yet. But she will; and meanwhile she has the heart of the matter in her. ‘*We are told that Delilah punctured the head of S nail.’’—China Mail. a little too conscious of | Samson With a | The other story of how poor Sisera had his hair cropped | is just as good.

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| was younger. It is a penalty of OctroBer 6, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 281 CHARIVARIA. ScEpricaL people who thought it odd that the latest German Loan should have just topped the figures for our own War Loan, will be pleased to have their doubts confirmed by the Lokalanzeiger, which observes that ‘The twelve milliards of marks are no modest figure arrived at by arithmetic.” Mr. Jonn R. STARKEY, M.P., has | returned to the Exchequer the amount of his parliamentary salary received during the War, explaining that he felt uncomfortable in accepting it under present conditions. Now he is “ Happy Starkey’ once more. Some elderly members of a suburban V.T.C. who attended a special service at the parish church the other day are still wondering why the preacher chose as his text, ‘‘Can these dry bones live?” With surprising unanimity the German newspapers declared last week that the King of BuLGaria and his Prime Minister had finally decided to throw in their lot with the Central Powers. Later news suggests that they had forgotten the old proverb that “a Ferdinand is worth two in the bush.” | We deeply sympathise with the elderly man who asked the Willesden magistrate for a separ- ation-order on the ground that his wife was always throwing knives at him, and he could not dodge them so easily as when he advancing years that one takes longer to see the point of anything. Butter cards, similar in prin- ciple to the existing bread-cards are shortly to be introduced in Ger- many. But that does not justify us | in boasting of our superior position. There is a large demand for Tuck-cards in this country also. The Katser, like the humblest of his subjects, has had to part with all metal possessions, such as door-knobs, in order that they may be made into shells. It is believed that even his brazen front has now disappeared. * OK The Hamburger Fremdenblatt, which speaks of the Gerinan official com- muniqués as being distinguished by their ‘monumental simplicity,” was probably referring to the well- known expression “to lie like a tomb- stone.” TER DO Wor I’M A-DOIN'—AN’ THAT LOOK PLEASANT.’ The Italian poet, D’Axnunzio, has | been throwing his poems from an aefo- | plane. We deprecate this campaign of frightfulness. : When the Karser was at Windsor in 1891, he told the Eton College Volun- teers he was glad to see so many of them taking an interest in the study of arms, and hoped that if ever they had to draw their swords in earnest they would use them to some purpose for their country. Now that there are three thousand Etonians at the Front, he is beginning to be sorry he spoke. M03 ze howe ” Supporter of the Budget. ‘*So I’M A-ARSTIN’ you ’ A taxi-cab driver, charged. at Bow] Street recently with being drunk, offered | to read a newspaper upside-down in order to prove that he was sober. This is no test at all. He should have offered to read the predictions of some of our war-prophets the right way up. The report that Mr. Forp, the American motor-car maker, who has become so violent a pacificist, is going to set up a factory in Brazil, “ where the nuts come from,” is as yet uncon- firmed. Extract from a Tommy’s letter, writ- ten in Egypt :—* It is terribly hot out here, so hot, in fact, that they feed the hens on ice-cream to stop them laying hard-boiled eggs.” A young Berliner has been permitted to make a series of pictures of the German Fleet. They are executed in pastels, as it was felt that water- colours were hardly suitable, and will | be entitled “Studies of Still the Kiel Canal.” History doesn’t always repeat itself quite correctly. Moore’s Veiled Prophet of Khorassan was MoKanna. But the unveiler of war-profits is McKenna, i “The following,” writes a soldier, ~ “was actually heard by myself while in charge of a guard :— Sentry. ‘ Halt! Who goes there?’ Voice. ‘ Chaplain.’ Sentry. ‘Pass, Charlie; all’s well.’”’ In case any reader should doubt the veracity of the above con- versation, Mr. Punch begs to say that it must be true, as he has heard it from at least fifty separate sources during the past fortnight, besides seeing it last week in an illustrated paper. Some of the German newspapers are suspiciously well informed about our plan of campaign. The Neueste Nachrichten, describing the bombardment preceding the Allies’ attack, says it was “as if they wanted to batter down the gates of hell.” The pickpocket’s motto: “There is a silver lining to every crowd.” Cruel only to be kind. ‘“*Accipent. — On = Friday, Cyril Thornett, aged nine, whilst at play in the schoolyard slipped down and broke his left thigh-bone. Fist-aid was ren- | dered by the teachers.’’—-Oxrford Times. IS PAY UP AN’ Life in | ‘*A tripe line of German defences in | the East and West will have to be broken through before Germany’s vitals are so much | as threatened.’’—Egyptian Gazette. We rather deprecate these gastronomi- I 8 cal metaphors. ‘* Sublime Porte literally means ‘lofty gate.’ It is the principal entrance to the Scraglio at Constantinople, and is the place from which the imperial edicts are issued.’’ Los Angeles ‘*‘ Evening Herald.” The Scraglio is also the place where the Imperial bow-strings are kept. ‘* BELGIAN SUCCESS. our troops captured a German telephone post on the right bank. They have taken the garrison, consisting of 15 men and 1 non-com- missioned officer, prisoners.’’—Morning Paper. On Saturday evening | The Germans no doubt were “ up the | pole.” VOL, CXLIX.

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282 THE LIMITATIONS OF THE KAISER. I ever regard his case as odd Who ventures to doubt that I’m a god; Few, in fact, can distinguish me From my friend and double, the Deity ; Yet I cannot behave like a fowl in air, I cannot at once be everywhere. Limited thus, I must needs decide Where I would spend last Christmastide ; Various pleasant schemes I had— Paris and London and Petrograd— But I couldn’t have painted them all three red, So I finally stayed at home instead. Now Yule is on us again and I’m Still bound by the laws of space and time; My heart, like a common man’s, is torn Between the above and the Golden Horn, With matins under a Moslem dome; But how can I do all four—(and Rome) ? Meanwhile it’s bad for my beauty rest (East being East and West still West) If I’m expected to bear the brunts Arising out of a brace of fronts, Neither of which—from a distant view— Is doing as well as I told it to. I find the travelling most severe, Though I only do it from rear to rear; And often enough has the wish occurred That I could arrange to be a bird; And it’s “Oh!” I ery with my godlike voice, “Oh! for the wings—of a dove, for choice.” O. S. ADMIRAL POST. “You've heard of ‘General Post,’ haven’t you?” said ‘PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. fOctoser 6, 1915. | ‘ You’re making it up,” says Cheeks. | “Gospel truth, I ain’t. I just read it in the paper.” | “’ Ow do all these blokes’ names come to begin with a /von?” | ‘If you wasn’t an ignorant marine you 'd know that von |is German for O’. I was once in a destroyer and we had eight |O’s on board, Irish all of 'em. There was O'Flaherty, 'O’Connor, O’Hara, O'Donovan‘ and O’Reilly, and so on. |If they’d been Germans they’d have been von Flaherty, 'von Connor, von Hara, etcetery—see? Where was 1? | We’d got to von Pont. | ‘Well, von Pont turned out to be the very man for the job, and the Kaiser was fair off his nut with joy about | him. there it was dashin’ up and down the Kiel Canal, grittin’ its teeth, firin’ birthday salutes and waitin’ for the Day. | “The Karser went down to Kiel for all his week-ends so as to give away the iron crosses to the submarine crews before they go West, and they say, Cheeks, as his admira- tion for von Pont had no bounds. “ Well, the last time he was there, musin’ to himself on | the shore and wavin’ his hand to the barges goin’ down to Wilhelmshaven for more anchors, he had a happy thought. His active brain turned in the direction of Admiral von HoLtTzENDORFF. “ Now you got to understand that von Hourz, ever since | he got the push and his pension, had been livin’ the life of a simple German gentleman in Berlin. As far as can be gathered, he behaved no different to nobody. He planted taters in his window-boxes, he wrote to the papers, signing himself ‘Too old at 84,’ and he sung the ‘Hymn of Hate’ before and after meals, just like everybody else who has to subscribe to the War Loan. Master: ‘Allis forgiven. Can find youa new job.’ That was jat 9a.M.; and you can bet, Cheeks, that, grabbin’ up his telescope and pack o’ patience cards, he caught the 9.40 all right. “The Kaiser was all affability. He'd got the High Seas Fleet in grand order, and | ‘“Qne fine mornin’ he gets a wire from his Imperial | He sends for Admiral | Jack to Cheeks, the marine. “ Well, the Kaiser has invented | BacHmann, who’s the head of the Naval General Staff. | a new game called ‘ Admiral Post.’ In the first place let |‘ BACHMANN,’ he says, ‘ you thick-headed numskull, what’s me tell you what I been reading in the paper about Admiral | this I hear about your plannin’ another triumphant attack von Houtrzenpore?, followin’ on the sensational departure for other scenes of Admiral von Tirpitz. Now to be quite frank with you, you being only a marine, I’m gettin’ qualms about the German Navy. They’re threatened with a cer- tain liveliness, Cheeks, they are. “You see this von HoLTzENpDoRFF used to command the High Seas Fleet just before the War. He was a fair oner for paint work and leadin’ the line at reviews. For the pipin’ days of peace he was absolutely It. But when the War broke out the Katsrr gets a sort of grouch on von HoutzENDorFF and drops him for another feller called von INGENOHL.” “’ Ow do you come to know these names ?’’ asks Cheeks. “T was just reading them in the paper,” says Jack. “ Well, all the world knows now what von INGENOHL did. For months and months there was only one navy in the world, and von Spree’s little lot and the Hmden and the Bloocher and all the other victories was celebrated in Berlin in the correct style, all school-children being ordered to get hoarse by compulsion. But one day, when the Kaiser was counting his ships, he says to von INGENonL, he says, ‘Where’s my Bloocher ?’ And the gallant Admiral replies that the Bloocher has been converted into a Dreadnought submarine. bad fora German. Then the Kaiser gives von INGENOHL a nasty look, and says to him, ‘ You can slide it. to give the command to von Pout.’” Which is what they call a half-truth, and not, I’m going | on the fortifications of Scarborough ?’ | Bacuany, ‘it’s my fool of a vice-chief, BEHNCKE.’ you both take the push,’ says the Kaiser. Whereupon turn- ‘It’s not me,’ says ‘Then | ing to our old friend, von Houtzenporrr, he says, hardly | able to keep the tears gushin’ from his eyes, ‘ You ’re about the biggest back number in the country, Hourzey, and it’s |up to me to give you the softest job that’s going. You’re appointed Chief of the Naval General Staff,’ he says; ‘and you can name your own Vice-Chief,’ he adds, ‘ vicey that reckless feller BEHNCKE.’ Well, Hottrzry votes for ;von Kocxn, who was friends with him in the old days | when the German Navy used to have Cinderellas on the quarter-deck and knew nothin’ of the horrors of war. And that’s how it stands now, Cheeks.” “Tt don’t give me no qualms, Jack,” says Cheeks. “Well, I dunno. Here’s this von Hottzenporrr, who |used to command the Battle Fleet in the days when there | were no battles, succeeded first by von INGENoHL and then by von Pont, and then as a crownin’ disgrace shoved |along with his pal von Kocu into the Naval General Staff _vicey BacHMANN and Bexncke. It may not be lettin’ loose the dogs of war, Cheeks, m’lad, but it looks very much to me as if the German fleet is goin’ to hold a regatta!” on on th ( Tennyson on the new Budget Duties. ‘* Not once or twice in our rough island story | The path of Duty was the way to Glory.’’

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Se PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Ocroser 6, 1915, | | | 2 | | at | 1d 2 n’ | rs | n iN of e | d aa | GANYMEDE AND THE GERMAN EAGLE. | Suttan. “OF COURSE I KNOW IT’S A GREAT HONOUR BEING ‘TAKEN UP’ LIKE THIS; STILL, I'M BEGINNING ALMOST TO WISH THE BIRD HAD LEFT ME ALONE.”

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OcToseR 6, 1915.] LONDON CHARIVARL 285 | | | PUNCH, OR THE 2S: cs LH SSS Lee A SOT NS ABABA e \ AE Youthful Officer. ‘‘You REALLY MUST SEND MY NEW BREECHES TO-DAY. I’M OFF TO FRANCE TO-MORROW, AND I BELIEVE MY ON BELLONA’S HEM. THe Ruwina Passion. WE were crossing from Portsmouth to Ryde. The almost horizontal rain from the indigo cloud drove us all under cover, and I found myself beneath the captain’s bridge, packed hard against | two lieutenants. Hence if I became |a listener to their confidences the offence must be charged not to any wish of mine to eavesdrop but to the | vagaries of the English August. Yet no secret of warfare did they unfold. their puttees and their canes, they might still have been conversationalists in the piping times of peace. Having dismissed the weather with their best but inadequate adjectives, they turned to the real topic of interest for the young and spirited officer—the mo-bike. One of them had a mo-bike on the island and was going to fetch it back; the other had a mo-bike on the mainland, and was, for the day, being dragged sadly from it. Each had had astonishing experiences which they re- lated so eagerly against the other’s that neither story was ever quite finished, REGIMENT HAS A BATTLE ON FOR THE WEEK-END.”’ In fact, but for their khaki and | the first instalment of the new one ran concurrently with the last of the old. It was wonderful what resources each had extracted from his jigger. A tragedy, however, hung over the one whose jigger was on the mainland ; for, would you believe it, that young ass So- and-so (I know his name, but mercifully suppress it) had missed parade so often owing to his smash-ups that anyone else who defected from a similar cause was to be forbidden to ride one again. It was a pity that asses like So-and-so ever got into a regiment; but on the whole the speaker could not deny that their crowd was a jolly decent one. | Still, it would be a foul thing if mo- bikes were stopped. But for some trouble once with the carburetter, the other speaker’s mo-bike had never let him down yet, and it was second-hand too. Nor had his friend much fault to find with his, except that it was such a whale for oil. It was jolly decent of the police, they both decided, to be so careless about the speed limit now, but then of course they never know whether or not one is on duty: one of the good points about khaki. Had the other ever clapped | too) on his Regal? Talk about a flyer. Never stopped for anyone, even in the town. A bit rotten, the speaker thought |that. One ought to have some con- | sideration, dash it all! Yes, the other agreed, of course one ought. But out in | the country let her rip. ~ “‘ Absolutely,” | said the other. Last Sunday,” said the first, “I went to see my people. Forty miles an hour ‘or over if I was doing an inch “ “ Forty-two I was doing for a bit on Friday,” said his friend, “ until a string of A.S.C. lorries pulled me up. Con- found them! It was between i But here the sun came out and I returned to the open deck. Punch’s Roll of Monour. Puitie Baynes, Acting Sergeant, Ist Rifle Brigade, reported missing. Mr. Baynes, who had been through the Boer War, enlisted as a private, and went out to the Front last October. As an artist he had won a wide repu- tation, and his strong, fresh work was familiar in Punch. We join with his \large circle of friends in the earnest hope that a career of such high promise or rather, as in some of the magazines,!eyes on old Blank (I have his name! has not been cut short.

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; SO. of litery gentlemen. [Octorrr 6, 1915, 286 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. A BEST SELLER. “T pon’r want one,” I said to the rather seedy-looking individual who had invaded me, but he was _ very insistent. « Well, Sir,” he said, “ you may think you don’t, but you do, if I may say| It’s specially prepared for the. use | Gives a lot of information not contained in diaries. List of all the Lord Mayors, City Comp’nies, Members of Parli’- ment, Gov’ment officials—and their | salaries, leading events in | worth its weight in gold,’ | volume is only a shilling.” / ary and Vade Mecum.’ | he pronounced it “ Vade” _name of every street in London.” | istry, rank and pay in Army and Navy, dates of important battles——” “Does it say definitely when the War will be over?” I asked. “Tables of weights and/| measures, rates of post-| age - [ saw it was no use inter- | rupting his parrot stunt.) He'd learnt it and had to) get it off his chest. “Leading” authors and artists, playwrights, actors, | insurance companies and/| rates ‘J | “Including Zepp rates?” I pushed in. ‘‘Names of leading clubs, churches, banks—=§in~ fact: nearly everything you want to know.” “Except,” I said, “ when this confounded War will be over.” “Ah,” he said, “a book as would tell you that would be Sir, whereas this useful little “ What’s said, “*The Litery Man’s Di- ” As it called?” I. “Gives the He rhymed with “ wade.” had evidently left this bit out. “I know,” I said, “about as many ws I can carry in my head already.” “You don’t need to remember them,” he said, “ with this book. It remembers them for you.” “ But L couldn’t think of carting it about with me,” I said. “ Why not, Sir? It’s very small.” * But think,” I said, “what I have to carry as it is. Card-case, tobacco pouch, pipe, matches, knife, keys, money, cheque-book, letters. My tailor wouldn’t hear of such a thing.” “Then why not keep it on your desk, Sir?” most |through the book. ‘exactly in what year Lord LorEsurn “Put it on my desk, you mean,” I said. ‘No power on earth could keep it there, what with my typist and the woman who keeps my rooms tidy.” | “That’s the beauty of the cover,” he said. “If it’s mislaid, it finds itself, as you might say.” “It certainly is noisy,” I “Well, you’re very persuasive. try one, just this once.” He needed no second invitation, and when the man had gone I glanced I don’t remember said. I'll J.H Dowd | | gave up office, but he was still Lord Chancellor when the diary was com- piled, and a good many other matters |appeared to have been dealt with from | the standpoint of the early part of the jcentury. In disgust I flung the book | across the room, and only just in time ‘to miss Arthur, who happened to look in on me. “ Hallo,” were out.” “Then why did you come up?” I said. “To leave something for you,” he said. “How should you know anything of my movements?” I said. “You haven’t been near me for a week or two.” he said, “I thought you “T know. But as I was coming up I met a man at the bottom of the stairs who said he knew you. He told me he had been calling to see you and you weren’t in.” ‘ “ But I am in, as you see. he know who you were?” “He didn’t. He asked if I was going up to see you.” “Did he happen to be a seedy- looking ruffian in a black tail coat and a red bow tie?” “ That was the disguise,” said Arthur, “that and a brown bowler hat.” “Now I wonder,” I said, “why he told you I was — ) | out.” ee meee Don’t know. _He told me you had asked him to call with a copy of a book he had with him.” | “The sort of thing he weald say. Was it,” I asked, “a book about ships and shoes and sealing-wax, and cabbages and kings ?”’ “It seemed comprehen- sive,” said Arthur, “so I bought a copy for myself.” “The old villain! ” I said. How did 'No, there, behind the coal- box.” “That ’s cheerful,” he said. “ You owe me a bob.” “Why?” I asked. paid him for it.” “1 “but not for the copy that he I paid for that.” | | | | | From an undertaker’s ad- _vertisement :— | **No advance in Prices for the }next Six Months, having large | stock of materials.’’ Wolverhampton Express. | Anzious Mother. ‘‘Come Away, WILLIE! You NEVER KNOW | This will comfort those who WHEN THOSE GERMAN MINES MAY GO OFF!”’ are appalled by the increased cost of dying. “Sma, Inpra, Sept. 7.—The Gaeckwar of | Baroda has contributed five lackys of rupees for use on the British front.’’ “ Daily Gleaner” (Jamaica). His Highness las apparently followed the example of our own magnates who have “ put down their footmen.” ‘¢TIn 1861 the London Irish Rifles figured among the Volunteer corps which were re- viewed at Wimbledon; this review forms an interesting link with the past, for the Duke of Wellington was one of the Generals present.’’ Evening Paper. On this occasion His Grace - not take the usual route from Waterloo, but travelled from St. Paul's. “SodidI. There’s my copy. | “Yes,” said Arthur sweetly, } said he had brought for you. |

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~ he ge | 10 ad es “d ad e- in of ” It | The OctToBer 6, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 287 A TERRITORIAL IN INDIA. xI. My pear Mr. Puncu,—A few men from the detachment have of late been transferred to the hill station and sub- stitutes sent down. Among the former was our popular Company Sergeant- Major, who received a pleasant surprise | in the shape of a procession, which | escorted him to the outer gate of the Fort, bearing banners of very strange devices and accompanied by a band. | the Regimental | band rendered | March on three mouth-organs, an en- | basins. trenching tool and twenty-two washing | and set to the tune of a popular hymn —simple and haunting words which must have brought tears to his eyes:— Sergeant-Major’s going to the mou-ou- ountains, Sergeant-Major’s going to the mou-ou- ountains, Sergeant-Major’s going to the mou-ou- ountains, He couldn’t stick the summer on the Plains. This unaccustomed excitement over, we resumed our normal dull existence, under conditions which render it prac- tically impossible for us to do any military training or to acquire any soldierly qualities beyond a prodigious development of language. One wonders what will happen in respectable British homes after the War, when moments of excitement lead to lapses into army speech. Our Company Quartermaster -Ser- geant did, a short time ago, foresee this danger, and _ seriously contemplated making a vow to refrain entirely from swearing. A day or two later he was heard passionately declaring that he was —— thankful he had not decided to do anything so foolish and was still at liberty to express himself on the subject of this prickly heat. The regimental dhurzi, who overheard him, has not since been seen. But, apart from the ills of the flesh peculiar to a tropical climate, I think much will be forgiven to a Quarter- master-Sergeant on detachment duty. Many and excessively difficult are the problems with which he has to grapple. I will give you one authentic example. Picture him faced with a peremptory demand from headquarters for extra duty pay due to a certain corporal for looking after a fire-engine, with no de- tails of the case beyond the knowledge that while he is sitting in a fort in the Punjab the fire-engine is away in the south of the United Provinces and the corporal is in a hill-station up on the borders of Nepal, and that he has no money to send him. This sort of thing is of daily occurrence. The whole procession sang a | | chorus written specially for the occasion | SS S S Yi “2 I PIPDEL DDE DBO OD a “Sth TMA LZ Z Y phy - GQ re or QQ YY Yj bi ce YU, Y/,4 77 LZ ies Whe PRICE IS GOING UP SOON.”’ S ‘‘ By THE WAY, CAN YOU THINK OF ANYONE WN g : \ S MAY 4 Mh, ij rank, — * Xe ynol a5 ECONOMY. ELSE WE COULD SEND A WIRE TO? THE One of our N.C.O.s, who was Company | Orderly Sergeant for the week, found himself one evening at the Staff Parade obliged by force of circumstances to take up the additional réles of the | Sergeant-Major (on leave) and the De- 'tachment Orderly Sergeant for the day | (sick). As C.O.S. he gravely reported | himself present to himself as 8.-M. and | then repeated the process as D.O.S., in each case carefully addressing himself las “Sir.”” Then, at the instance of the Officer of the day, he, as 8.-M., formally reproved himself as C.O.S. for being himself D.O.S. instead of having ap- pointed a deputy for the occasion |I spare you the further complications { | Detachment duty brings about strange | which ensued. | situations for others besides C.Q.S.’s.| I have these right. | We still get indications that there is a war going on somewhere in Europe which seems likely to continue. Occa- sionally, too, we have concrete evidence in the shape of wounded Indian soldiers returned from the Front. They are full of their experiences ; and their visits to France, and in many cases to England, have given them a new gift of tongues. A wounded Garwhali, who was wearing trousers of English and tunic of Indian khaki, was at pains to explain that in France “ sabchiz [everything] was English—trousers, kurti [coat], yes, and pukka chapeau too—trés chic !”’ Yours ever, ONE oF THE PuncH BRIGADE, I am not sure whether

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2 | PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Octoper 6, 1915, _ BUNGAY LOWE AND THE BOOKSTALL-MAN. I cAME upon them at that hour when | enemy was in a particularly curt and |so ruthlessly waging war upon. one is most sensitive to the uncon- | genial: just before the day’s work. To | the bookstall-man I daresay I am even more irritating than he to me. Since | the War began and brought with it the | minor blessing of the truce to one’s political passions, I have been a casual | instead of a regular customer, buying | varieties of newspapers I would not | have been seen dead with in times of | peace. Moreover I think the bookstall- man has begun to suspect that my slender purchases are largely made with a view to providing myself with | the supply of coppers that come in so useful at odd times of the day; and he | hates being asked for change. At any rate he’s always rude to me if an opportunity occurs. The other day I thought to find favour with him by asking for a book. I said, “ Have you Candytuft—I mean Veronica ?” It was a real name, but unusual. He made me repeat it, and then said roughly, ‘When you know what you do mean, I'll see if I’ve got it;” and I retaliated by making him change me a half-crown for a halfpenny paper. Parenthetically, I wonder why authors sometimes let their progeny go forth with such tormenting names. That otherwise undeniable classic, The Cast- ing Away of Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine, is a case in point. Good serviceable hard-wearing titles, ready shrunk, requiring just a medium educa- tion to understand, and not too much moral courage to ask for, ought to be easily procurable. Facility in putting them together is not hard to acquire, and may be a most useful accomplish- ment, as I found in dealing with Bungay Lowe. Bungay Lowe as often as not travels up to town with me. If he would only | talk about the weather I could stand it, | but he is one of those fatuous people | | sages aloud. who consider that English weather is a | threadbare topic. He reads, it is true, | but he cannot refrain from reading pas- They are generally such | things as letters he himself has written | to the newspapers, or the academic pleasantries of Mr. Bertranp RussExt. He runs a debating society somewhere Hampstead way, and is more than suspected of rehearsing bits of his | speeches in his ordinary conver- sation. When I say that since the war _began his debating activities have apparently doubled, delineating his character as fully as any of my readers can possibly wish, | so when, a few mornings ago, I arrived early at the station and saw Bungay Lowe at the other end of the! I think I am) *)* ! | platform awaiting me, I took temporary | refuge at the bookstall, where my other | uncivil mood and muttered curses over fivepence-halfpenny. I then advanced | under cover of The Daily Screen and | was incontinently caught. Bungay Lowe’s breast-pocket was | ‘bulging with manuscript, and I was soon fated to know that he had on him the notes of the speech that he was to | deliver that evening. I must let him read me some extracts on the way up; |I might make some valuable sugges- tions and perhaps help him out with |a quotation or two. What was the motion to be debated? Oh, well, i | wasn’t a debate exactly; he was giving them a paper entitled, “Are we quite fair to the Germans?” There would be a discussion, perhaps, but no division. I have a somewhat confused remem- brance of what followed in that walk up and down the platform with Bungay Lowe. I recall that he asked me if I did not think it was our sacred duty as Englishmen to try honestly to arrive at the point of view of the Germans ; and, assuming the German point of view to be somewhere the other side of the Rhine, I cordially agreed, adding, “ By whatever way round,” a phrase which he immediately jotted down. He then asked me if any rational being who knew anything of Germany could credit half the stories of atrocities in Belgium and France. I waxed eloquent again and said that there was no single authentic recorded instance of German soldiers having cooked and eaten an enemy civilian. That, I added, was a proof of truly remarkable powers of |self- restraint. All this was duly re- corded and no doubt worked up into a point. We were getting on finely, | but I doubted my power to keep|® it up during the impending journey, which I much dreaded. Suddenly an | | inspiration came to me. The train was not yet quite due, but no time was to be lost. “Of course you’ve read those little | | | books by ‘Jingo ’—an ironical pseudo- | /nym, as you will guess—that bear so | admirably upon your purpose?” I| asked. “No? My good man, they ’re| full of what you want. Quaint bits of | Shavian philosophy expressed in won-| | der ful sentences. Not read them or even Get them at once. | heard of them? | Let me see, there are three in a definite | \sequence. Change for a Sovereign; you can see what that’s about—the case for democratic control could not be | more admirably presented. A Penny- | worth of Manners; that’s an open lletter to a diplomatist, who with a) ha’porth more could have saved the} situation. And, lastly, A German| | getful. ject moves me too strongly. Mother, a wonderful picture of the domestic virtues of the enemy we are Our friend at the bookstall might have one lof them—you can but try. Remember the order: Change for a Sovereign; A Pennyworth of Manners; A German Mother.” The signal went down as Bungay Lowe sought the bookstall. I watched. He had to wait a minute or two, and then I could see his irritating profile as he enunciated with the ghastly distinct- ness which I have always found to be so exasperating, and which with inferiors always suggests a hidden intention of sarcasm, the three enquiries I had, I flatter myself, so ingeniously framed for him. The first two evidently drew blanks. At the third there was some sort of upheaval in the bookstall. Bungay Lowe stepped suddenly back and a small but interested crowd gathered. What followed appeared, as far as I could see, to partake of the triple nature of a debate, a discussion, and a dog- fight. I imagined Bungay Lowe to be pointing out that there is no disparage- ment in imputing Teutonic parentage to any man, and he would infallibly do if I know him at all, to his own country’s belittlement. He would urge the propriety of seeing ourselves as others see us, and this would give the bookstall-man an obvious opening, At any rate my immediate point was gained. Bungay Lowe lost the train, or at least my end of it. WHEN THE HEROES RETURN. Lest WE Forcer Mother England has been forgetful before; Mother England has been for- I wonder if she will be forgetful at the end of this War, when the I am thinking, I admit, of oselain heroes in whom I take a particular interest. Before the War they were in London and threw up, some of them, their positions unasked. Their places now are ‘filled. Will ithey be kept open for them against their return? Belgium and France | know their worth if England yet does ot. Let Belgium and let France speak, Let them speak. I cannot—the sub- But let | England answer, and let her answer ‘soon. What will she do when these heroes come back to her? What will \the hostelries of England do. when Hans and Fritz and Carl return ? Military Wedding — ‘Sam Browne belt, single brace and frog, best bridal leather.”’

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rr Oe ot we YS cr = “ ~—— a ET Ge F OcToBER 6, 1915.} — 4% \N\ | | hh | a | iw | WELL, LOOK ’ERE. FER THE SAKE 0’ ‘Nor ME. I AIN’T SUPPOSIN’ NOTHINK. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE BUDGET. ARGYMENT, SUPPOSE YOUR INCOME’S A HUNDRED AND FIFTY POUNDS A YEAR——"’ You ’p ARGY ME MINUTES, AN’ TOUCH ME FOR A QUID AFORE I’D LAID ’ANDS ON IT.”’ INTER THINKIN’ IT IS A HUNDRED AND FIFTY POUNDS IN ABAHT TWO BUTTONS. THEY couldn’t make the old chap grasp there was a war, and, instead of joining the little group of bent-backed cronies outside the village estaminet, he would sit at his window, mumbling and grumbling. Standing arms akimbo, in her check -patterned apron, his daughter shouted herself hoarse. Now she pointed to me, sipping delicious coffee, belt unfastened, at the parlour table; now she nodded towards the eight-years-old grandson drilling his squad of grimy-faced gamins outside in the sunlit street. Grandpére merely gaped at her; with his patched linen blouse, felt slippers, and a beard like Rip Van Winkle’s, he was half blind, deaf, and—as far as I could make out —dumb. We were in support billets that week, going forward in working parties for night-digging; but about an hour before sunset this white-capped bustling daughter had beckoned me hospitably indoors, calling my attention, as she poured out the coffee, to framed photo- graphs of her three soldier sons and her husband, who was a corporal in a machine-gun section and looked as though he meant business. “ Coquin !” cried she and, hastening suddenly into the road, rescued the snub-nosed, straight-fringed grandson from the wheels of an A.S. motor lorry. Leaning back, I was whistling under my breath, mechanically rubbing up a tunic button, when, from the chair by the window, a slow deliberate movement caught my eye, and—well, believe it or not as you choose, I had wakened Rip Van Winkle back to life. First (though I never could convince his daughter of it) he winked his right eye; next, chuckling so that he showed his toothless gums, and holding his head an inch or two higher, he drew down the cuff of his blouse, polishing an imaginary button. Screwing up his dim old eyes, he rubbed patch after patch on that faded blue linen, and, as if the familiar action called up Good- ness knows what crowding memories of youth and war, of chausses rouges and képis, he muttered, with a sig- nificant jerk of his head towards the window: “A Berlin ! A Berlin!” Biblia abiblia. ‘* Another reason why the more prominent lawyers do not have a fair understanding of accountancy fundamentals, practice to employ a qualified accountant this practice we heartily commend—to look after the bokos.”— Mercantile Gazette, N.Z. Extract from a school-girl’s essay on “Women’s Work in War Time”: “Women are now driving tram-cars instead of their husbands.” ‘*Wanted for me, and for me alone, and only a young Girl or a young Woman who is a real and a willing servant. Apply to me, and to me alone, and only upon this Saturday, between the hours of half past three and half past five p.m., and on the next Sunday between the hours of one and two p.m.; wages 10s. each week.’’—Advt. in ** Irish Times.”’ We like the opening of the poem, but the rhythm breaks down rather badly later on. is the growing |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [COcroner 6, 1915. 7 anment!S FA, Sub. ‘‘DasH 1T ALL! A NAVAL DISASTER. I’vE CLEAN FORGOTTEN THE NAME OF THE GIRL I’M WRITING TO!”’’ THROUGH THE GATE OF HORN: A DarDANELLES DREAM. In that dark hour before the dawn comes thronging, When people die and soldiers stand to arms, I lay and wrestled with a wicked longing To yield ungrudgingly to Lethe’s charms. I weighed it well; for in Battalion Orders High powers had registered their awful aim :— All subalterns to be unwinking warders Throughout that period. But all the same There are some times one simply has to keep For certain things. This was the time for sleep. I said, ‘‘ There stands a great unwrit tradition, Which kills off Colonels and makes Generals grey, That none who holds His Majesty’s Commission Shall nod by night or be at rest by day ; But in this middle time, when all is quiet, When shells are silent and no flies intrude, When no sun scorches and no rifles riot, And even my platoon requires no food, Shall I not slumber and the Krva forgive ? The answer is in the affirmative. “ And, if the Staff suspect the man von SANDERS Of swift offences and the use of gas, I might remind them we are not in Flanders (Where one, it seems, may be that sort of ass), But nigh to Troy, where men employed no vapours Nor made attacks at this unnatural time, And Troy’s traditions shall forbid such capers While cultured Turks possess the classic clime ; These haunts of chivalry shall still condemn The least activity at three a.m.” 3ut anyhow, I slept.- And then like thunder Big clouds of battle burst about my head. Methought a sentry made some hideous blunder ; The Turk came creeping and the ground was dead ; Soft over Dardanus the sun stood staring ; On Achi Baba paled the startled moon, When Islam’s gallantest, with sounds like swearing, Drove back the pagans of the tenth platoon. A man called Ismail, in dirty blue, Stood kicking me. I woke—and it was true. % st st ste 4 * | The time is tedious in Constantinople ; | Meanwhile I pen this melancholy screed To friendly neutrals, and perhaps the Pore ’ll Be touched and intervene and have me freed. Haply my lines, like some distressful pennant, Shall flutter forth to that embattled Strait And reacly and teach some drowsy Sub-Lieutenant To be more dutiful. At any rate The British Fleet will know that I am there, And not bombard without the greatest care. Another Injustice to Ireland. ‘* Despite the protests of public boards in'the County Roscommon, the police barracks at Frenchpark was closed yesterday by order of | the Inspector-General.”—Jrish Paper. | ‘*A general experimenting with cheaper tobaccos is going on throughout the country.’’—Morning Paper. We hope the intrepid officer will not go too far with this deadly work. sctnaiceceniitadea a Precision. ‘«The funeral was the flargest witnessed in the district for many years.’’—Glasgow Herald.

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| Zz, ion, r of on his any A\\\ : q r\ FY | Y . O77 YY Yf| | Yi Hau. fe ry /3/// GENERALS ON THE WEST FRONT WERE STUCK MOVE NOW.” Nn 7G Nt, | 1) NEW DEPARTURE. Tue Crown Prixce. “YOU WERE COMPLAINING THE OTHER DAY, FATHER, THAT YOUR FAST. WE'RE ON THE

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- = — || lCUr —_— i i il i i A ee ee. i SS we VM Oe ee OFA CO |

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293 | OcroBer 6, 1915.] | ———— : | | question comparatively new but increas- | sums, and no more, as are paid by | ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. | ingly overmastering. Well worth while |German Government to British officers (EXTRACTED FRoM THE Drary oF Tony, M.P.)' resisting. | who are prisoners of war in Germany ? ‘d ’ lg Y . . _ y » House of Commons, Tuesday, September 3UTCHER usefully called attention to| Frxancran Secretary To War OFFICE PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 28th.—The few strangers who strayed fact that the Government pay German | made perfunctory reply. into Gallery over clock looked down on officers, prisoners in this country, from | payer, desolate scene. When Questions were one - third to one- half as much again British tax- freshly burdened, would be obliged if Mr. BurcHer would sharpen called on, attendance of Members so as Germany pays to British prisoners | his knife and hack away at this subject scanty that, had Standing Order permitted an immediate count, House must necessarily have forthwith adjourned for lack of a quorum. CHAPLIN as usual punctual in his place bearing with the ease of Atlas the load of Leadership of Opposition. As Guest had not yet arrived, he had Front Bench all to himself, Ministerial Bench being scarcely more populous. Reasonable to suppose that, glorious news brightening Sunday morning being fully confirmed in to-day’s telegrams, there would be thronged attendance and preva- lence of high spirits breaking out in ringing cheers when perchance events of preceding forty-eight hours were alluded to. The House, in this respect true repre- sentative of the nation, was to all appearance absolutely unmoved by sudden turn in tide of war. Doggedly meaning to go on with the business to the end, it was no more elated by sudden victory than it had been depressed by long continuance of monotonous firing from opposite trenches. It was all in the day’s work, and till the day’s work is done the nation is not disposed to waste time or fritter away strength in emotional outbursts. Epwarp Grey made his weekly| appearance on the Treasury Bench. | Brought with him momentous message for Bulgaria. Couched in that courteous but firm language of which he is master. | British sympathy with the Bulgarian | people is warm and sincere, but if the little kingdom, egged on by Germany, | assumes an aggressive attitude on the side of the enemy “‘ we are prepared to give to our friends in the Balkans all the support in our power, in the manner most welcome to them, in concert with our Allies, without reserve and without qualification.” Loud cheer from the now gathering | audience greeted an unmistakable ulti- | matum. | Never was ultimatum delivered in} the same fashion. With elbows resting on the brass-bound box, with body bent and head hung down, the Foreien SecrETARY, in level voice, read the historic document as he might have cited a weekly report on the Dead Meat Market. This habit of lolling over the Table when replying to a SIR EDWARD GREY ON BULGARIA. of war of same rank. Wanted to know whether, in view of fact that German Government have by the murder of non-combatants on sea and on land, by bombardment of unfortified | towns, and by numerous other acts of barbarity, systematically violated the Hague Conventions, the British Govern- ment will in future pay to German officers who are prisoners of war in this country the same daily or monthly Pleading for retrenchment in the salaries of German prisoners. Mr. ButcHer. till it is reduced to sensible busi- nesslike shape. Prime MINISTER made urgent appeal for abstention from pursu- ing at present juncture question of comparative merits of National and Voluntary Service. General cheer backed up appeal. Guest, however, having prepared speech on subject, not to be put off. Endeavoured to open debate on motion for Third Reading of Consolidated Fund Bill. House not disposed to follow the lead. Conversation collapsed in time for adjournment at five minutes to seven, with time found for discussion of interrogatories ad- ministered to incumbents of Welsh Church by the Com- missioners appointed under Welsh Church Act. Business done. — Consolidated Fund Bill read a Third time. THE ANGELS OF MONS. Ir may be just that folks have flocked To glorify a pretty tale ; It may be truth that Something blocked That desperate battle trail, And, anyhow, the story’s growing stale. But, true or not, there’s this is right, Sure as man lives and murder’s done, Fate never mixed another fight Since wars were first begun With so much Freedom to be lost or won. | And swearing Tommies, beaten back, But rallying still their broken line | Against the howling Prussian pack, May not have seemed divine, But still did heroes’ work and did it fine. Whether they saw the shining crew, | St. GEorRGE and all the rest of it, Or only found a job to do And meant to stand their bit, Something or Someone gave them grip | and grit. ‘*The Zeppelin says the report was probably accompanied by several others.’ Morning Paper. The Zeppelin may have said so, but you can never believe a gas-bag.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [OcroBer 6, 1915, THE NOVELIST ASTRAY. | (Vide “ Fiction in War-time.”’—Times, | September 25.) A SAPIENT writer in The Times Defends from malediction Writers of note who now devote Their energies to fiction. The novel, in the writer’s view, Ts not alone the medium Of entertaining me and you By dissipating tedium. It has a higher, nobler side, | A more exalted mission— | That of diffusing, far and wide, Ethics and erudition. ! All science comes within its scope ; | Social reform it teaches ; It brings to the despairing hope ; Consoles, exhorts and preaches. So far The Times, which has once more Performed the easy function Of “ breaking in an open door” With much superfluous unction. Uy No reasonable person kicks Against the novel-writer So long as to his last he sticks Or leaves it as a fighter. But indignation fills the soul And makes the tongue mephitic When he usurps the tiresome réle Of military critic. ‘*Sir George Askwith to-day met at Old Palace Yard representatives of the wood- workers on Government work who are on strike | at Barnstaple for an increase of 1d. per hour.” Evening Paper. “ Wouldn’t workers ” is what we should eall them. ‘* Heavy rains again fell in Khartum and vicinity last Saturday night and several lakes have been formed in various parts of the town, some of which are still navigable. Mosquitoes are not allowed to breed in them, under penalty of a heavy fine; and notices to that effect will undoubtedly be posted at each lake before long.’’—Egyptian Mail. The success of British rule in the Soudan has not been exaggerated. THE TESTING OF A PATRIOT. After the Raid. ‘‘ Essex.—Bungalow, furnished: near sea, shell beach.’’—Morning Paper. ‘‘The result of the tax would be to raise the | price of sugar a halfpenny in the £.”’ | Edinburgh Evening Despatch. Scottish grocers are notoriously less grasping than their English brethren. ‘*Lieutenant, Regular Forces, requests small | assistance for wife 15,000 miles away.’’ The Times. As the circumference of the earth is | only 25,000 miles, we infer that the | advertiser is in the Flying Corps and | pretty high up. ‘* By ordering ‘The Star,’ and signing a | similar receipt form inSerted in it, YoUR LIFE will be insured against Zeppelins. Therefore | YOU ARE SAFE if you sign the free insurance forms in ‘THE DAILY NEWS’ and ‘THE stTaR.’” Daily News. It is rumoured that Count ZEPPELIN on reading the above notice realized the futility of his efforts and sent in his resignation.

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r sea, se the teh. less ren. small | Wes, th is ; the , and ing a | LIFE refore rance AR.’”” ws. ELIN d the » his | | | | Octoner 6, 1915.} PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. | Artist. “Herne, I | ’ ° , ‘ | Fugitive. “It’s ALL RIGHT, SIR. SAY: ' 295 WHAT ARE YOU UP TO BEHIND MY EASEL?” It’s MY BIG BRUVVER TRYIN’ TER COP ME WIV A STONE.” A ROBIN AT THE FRONT. Ir didn’t take Jules long to flutter his way into the heart of every Tommy in the trench, for there is much that is common to the methods of English and French robins. There wasn’t a man in the whole platoon who would have hurt one feather of that tiny body; } and Jules knew this perfectly well, and traded on his knowledge in the most | shameless manner. | No dug-out however secluded was } sacred from his little inquisitive pres- ence, if he wanted companionship ; his “cheep, cheep” was too persistent to | be ignored, and every occupation had |to be thrown aside if Jules demanded amusement. He had lived among quiet peasants, but one night the great change came, and Jules woke to find the farm deso- late and abandoned. It was unspeakably dreary. For two days and nights he was desolate, but on the third night the soldiers came. He had never dreamed there could be so many men in the world, and he was afraid. The soldiers were noisy. They sang and laughed and swore, and Jules did not understand English and hated it all in his little heart. EE " = —_ But suddenly his interest was aroused- They began digging trenches—good honest digging; he could understand that. Digging meant worms, and worms ready dug save a robin a great deal of trouble. So he took courage, and gradu- ally edged himself nearer to the busy men, his little head first on one side, then on the other. The Tommy nearest, happening to catch sight of him, carelessly threw him a small worm. It was very pink and it wriggled irresistibly. Jules hesitated. Should he? Did he dare? Yes! With a quick darting movement he was upon it. The next instant, at a safe distance, he was bolt- ing it greedily, and the friendship between Jules and the soldiers began. He was soon entirely one of them, as 3ritish as the most British of them all, his gay cheery little presence, in his suit of monk brown with the red waist- coat, bringing an air of gaiety to the boredom of trench life. The men used to watch for his coming and beguile him to stay. His special friend, Private Delarey, taught him several engaging tricks, and Jules—for he came of true French stock—loved showing himself off. But the end of his good time came quite suddenly. Snugly tucked away for the night, he knew nothing of the brilliant attack, and counter-attack delivered with such swiftness. If he heard the sharp rattle of rifles and spit of machine guns, it was drowsily in his sleep, and he was not disturbed, for he had grown used to these noises, so that when morning came he could not under- stand why the men in greyish blue uniform now occupying the trench where he lived were not the friends he had played with overnight. It puzzled him, this thing. Where was Delarey? Why did no one offer him food ? He wandered drearily from end to end of the trench, seeking some solution. Ah, at last one of the men had thrown him something! He inspected it deli- cately, head on one side. Surely some mistake: it was a stone! The next was better timed and aimed. This hit him fairly and hard, and, with just one tiny choking gasp, Jules gave up his little ghost. And Delarey, in a small field hospital, miles away, with a piece of shrapnel in his side and a raging head, muttered feverishly at intervals— “Pore little Jools! Wish we'd ’ad time to fetch ’im along. ‘Ope they ’Il look arter Jools.”

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bo to} oO PUNCH, OR THE LONDON _CH: ARIV ARI. [Octoser 6, 1915, A BALLAD OF BULBS. I conjugate the verb ‘to save” in ev’ry mood and tense ; And when Extravagance allures I sternly bid her hence. I walk into the City, ay and back, on my ten toes ; Unhailed by me in rain or shine the flying taxi goes ; No more the merry motor-bus my solid presence knows. I’ve laid a drastic ban upon the winsome cigarette ; Against the early morning tea my face I’ve sternly set I wear goloshes unabashed whenever it is wet. Pursuing the example set by the Kine and Court, I have abjured my single after-dinner glass of port ; I stick to barley-water, and I drink it by the quart. | But in the strongest bodies there ’s a vulnerable spot ; ACHILLEs had it in his heel, and in his heel was shot ; J thought I was temptation-proof, but found that I was not. For six long months so tightly and unflinchingly I drew | My purse-strings that on luxuries I never spent a sow; And then bang. went five shillings like a bolt from o ut the blue. It wasn’t for the War Loan mill that they provided grist ; | No, the mischief was accomplished by a seedsman’s fatal list, And they were blued on bulbs, for bulbs I never could resist: UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER. No. XXVIII. (From the German EMPERo?.) My pear Witiie.—When you receive this I shall be quite dead. Even before the outbreak of the War I had been ailing. On August Ist, 1914, I took to my bed and was definitely separated from you. I did not feel the separation much ; it was no great wrench, for latterly, as you know, I had had but little chance to distinguish myself by any useful activity. Though we still kept up a too great to continue much longer. Then came the bre: ak, and | now, as I say, I am going. Even had the War by some miracle been avoided I doubt if our companionship could have been maintained. To be bullied and neglected is never pleasant, and that was evidently the fate which | you had marked out for me. The lesson is a bitter one. Would that I had learnt it sooner. I should have saved myself much pain and many harsh disappointments. As I look back upon my chequered career I ask myself whether I was at any time sufficiently real and convincing for the task I had undertaken to perform. Our articles of association (if I may put it in that way) laid it down that Emperor whose only fault was to be a taste for practical jokes of a simple and innocent sort; while you were to play your part in shining armour as an Olympian War-god or in VELLI. I was to discuss the merchant marine with Herr with von Trrprrz at Kiel or at the Vulean Works at Stettin. Krupp was to be in your department ; I was to listen to Ambassador. You were to review the Berlin garrison on the Tempelhofer field and to tell recruits to shoot down “their fathers and mothers at your order; and I was to gain a reputation for harmless levity and Imperial bonhomie by pulling away the chair on which some portly industrial For several months I 've striven hard to curb undue expense; | show of living together the strain was obviously becoming | I was to be the good, kind, gentlemanly chivalrous family- | diplomatic intrigues as a modern reincarnation of MAcHIA- | Bauin at Hamburg, while you were to plan Dreadnoughts | Dr. DryaNDeEr’s sermons and talk peace-talk to the American | magnate was about to sei at himself. This may have boon slightly vulgar, but it was undoubtedly very funny. At any rate the whole Court laughed most heartily whenever I | did it. | Then again there was my visit to Lord Lonspate with | the object of persuading the simple English that we were, after all, a true English gentleman, fond of grouse-shooting and all other English sports. Really 1 almost wished you had yourself been present instead of me when we drove through Cumberland with outriders and postillions, and an escort of splendidly mounted British Yeomanry prancing and clattering all round us. The whole affair went off most successfully, and had excellent results. Unfortunately the same cannot be said of the interview in which I laid bare our heart to the London Daily Telegraph. That was meant to please the English, but for some reason it had the opposite effect, and besides all the Germans became was yours, not mine. Nor had I anything to do with the theatre parade to Jerusalem or with the foolish Morocco |adventure. These enterprises, like all the other insanities of which I have not strength to write down the list, were furious about it too, and the throne rocked in the storm. | The Tweedmouth letter was no more successful, but that | |hatched in your brain, and, though I protested against | |them, I was overborne. Can you wonder that I hailed our | separation as a release from an intolerable position ? Well, you now have the War on which you were bent, and all I can say is that I hope you like it. I, at any rate, have had no part in it, and cannot be asked to bear any of the responsibility for it. That is yours and yours alone. You have the satisfaction of reflecting that you have put in peril that great structure for the foundation of which thousands of Germans gladly gave their lives. And you, and those who have urged you on or followed you, now trampled under foot all laws by which mankind sought to to hold tyranny in check. (Signed) WitHeELM I. er R. | A Mixed Marriage. Military Wedding” :— ‘* Lieutenant Nicol Bruce, 7th Prov. Stewart, daughter of Dr. Stewart Bruce, Banff, and Miss Margaret Battalion R.S., son of | | Rev. Dr. stand forth before the world as men who have ruthlessly | mitigate ferocity, to protect the lives of the innocent and | From The Glasgow Bulletin, under heading “ Edinburgh | | Mr. Punch’s best compliments to that fine body of Amazons: | the Miss Margaret Battalion of the Royal Scots. ‘*Mr. Batrour’s STRIKING NEw Book. By ArtuurR MAcHEN. Published To-day.’’— Evening News. Although Mr. Macuen, on his own showing, is responsible for The Angels at Mons, we decline to believe this latest claim for him. Mr. BALrour as a writer needs no ghostly assistance. ‘* There were two charges against an eleven-year-old Cadoxton boy and of shouting newspapers on a Sunday.’’—Barry Dock News. If the newspapers had been above the age of twelve years we could have | the prosecution. ‘*Biow THAT CRIPPLED Rvussia.’’—Evening News. Even a Pressimist might refrain from such an ungenerous | objurgation. named John Lake, of selling newspapers under ,the age of twelve years, better understood the reason for |

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een any ae | vith ere, ing you ‘ove lan “ing ott tely laid | was | had | ume | rm. that the CCO ities vere inst | our |

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Ocroser 6, 1915.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

Judge (before sentencing prisoner to penal servitude). ‘*‘ You WILL ALL BE GRATEFUL TO HEAR THAT THE Prussian GUARD HAS BEEN SEVERELY PUNISHED BY OUR

Dentist. ‘‘It WiLL EASE THE PAIN OF THIS EXTRACTION, Sir, WHEN I TELL YOU THAT THE RUSSIANS HAVE EXTRICATED THEMSELVES FROM A VERY AWKWARD POSITION.’”’ BOSCH HUMOUR. [The German paper, Aladderadatsch, gives its readers a dialogue between the captain and first officer of an English liner. After talking of hidden cannon and machine guns in the doctor’s cabin, it goes on :— Captain. And the papers ? Officer. The false papers are on your desk. Shall I falsify them a bit more ? Captain. Not yet. Where are the soldiers ? Officer. In the coal-bunkers disguised as niggers and sitting on baskets drinking whisky. Captain. Are the Americans on board ? Officer. There is one on every deck spitting all round. Captain. Then in God’s name forward). I HAVE seen a rhinoceros romping, I have seen hippopotami fight, I have watched a giraffe sprint a mile and a-half (The film was exciting that night) ; I once saw a bull-pup give chase to a hare, And that was a ludicrous scramble, | And I witnessed an even more clumsy affair When a porpoise indulged in a gambol ; I have noticed a motor-bus skidding, Seen amateurs fix up a shelf;

Master. ‘‘ YOUR PUNISHMENT, JONES, WON’T FEEL SO SEVERE WHEN YOU HEAR THAT WE HAVE JUST GIVEN THE ENEMY A BRAVE TROOPS.’ TREMENDOUS THRASHING.”’ ane ANG % Wt =a), PAN ‘Y Rar ‘NN — Garotter. ‘‘*You WoOn’T FEEL THE LOSS OF YOUR WATCH, Sir, ON HEARING THAT WE’VE CAPTURED SEVENTY-NINE OF THE ENEMY’S GUNS.”’

I have watched a bargee having after- CONCESSIONS TO THE VOLUNTEERS. noon tea, ' . : , . : : dey = —~ s [It is reported that the War Office is I have danced in the Lancers myselt ; | prepared to consider the question of allowing Sut not till the War, when a moment | Volunteers to go to the Front to dig trenches. of mirth No payment will be made, and no uniform, Inspired this irreverent lvric | arms or ammunition provided. } , . , Had | met with the clumsiest thing | _ Iw case of being gassed at the Front, upon earth Volunteers must deposit a sum in | An Allemand being satiric. advance to cover all hospital expenses. They will, however be buried without charge. The applications of members <taien Miieenies titans Cileamnel taneiin Ud tai wishing to offer themselves as subjects Sunday ev ning and Monday evening, about for vivisection or other dangerous ex- 9.30, an alleged airman appeared above the| periments at the hospitals will be town, dropping bombs."’—E.weter Express. _ | egnsidered in rotation. | The War Office will consent to accept the title of ‘Paolo and Francesca,’ made a| ™e2 of good character from the Volun- pleasant break last night in the Shakespearean | teer Corps to act as live targets for plays which are being produced this week at! musketry practice; also as cover to the Exeter —s ar tae 1 Kel 'save the expense of sandbags. Public ~xreter Li. "ess an uC ° ia ! ° 7 Pler LAPVOSS GUE LAL School and University men preferred. ] es ‘ 2 . 73 hey Y om 7 bs Author: “But why drag in SHAK-/ Entrance fee: two guineas. SPEARE ? SE

The Cautious Touch.

‘* Stephen Phillips’ great love tragedy, under “The ash candies tee * thes Maile ne ‘*Map Mvutuan oF Britisn Poritics. Christmas Pudding Fund have now been De mortuis nihil bonum, But it is a little placed . . . Roughly speaking, it may be said difficult to observe the rule in the case of that sixpence will amply cover the portion of Mr. ——.’’—Nottingham Guardian. one man.’’—Daily News. The journal appears, however, to have Yes, but what portion? The tongue) made a strenuous attempt to carry out or the tummy ? its own maxim.

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/much his appearance that was | tone. | evening in his shirt sleeves and | fronts are done by a professional, |

298 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Ocrozer 6, 1915,

TOMLINSON’S PROGRESS. Axovut a fortnight after the Tomlin- | sons had taken ‘ Rosedene”’ in our road Miss Withers summoned a Council of War. The Vicar’s wife had of course called on the Tomlinsons, but, as all the world knows, vicars’ wives are | nothing to go by; they have to look up everybody, making no distinction between the sheep and the goats. At the Council it was unanimously decided that the Tomlinsons were quite im- | repeated it so many times that at last possible. I was not surprised; I had myself noticed several unpleasant features about Tomlinson. In saying this I am not alluding particularly to his face, which, though unattractive, was perhaps no more distressing than hundreds of others that one encounters in the City and elsewhere. No, it was not so at fault as his general social In the first place, he imade a practice from the very | beginning of rolling the grass- plot in front of his house every with a pipe. It has always been tacitly agreed in our road that, personal gardening should be strictly confined to the backs ; who visits us in turn. In the second place, it soon became painfully apparent that he was addicted to the clarionet. There are, no doubt, circles in which ance with the mandolin; but — further than this we have never gone. I think, however, that what really more than anything else turned the scale against our new neighbours was a | discovery that Miss Withers made about

| them when they had only been amongst us fora few days. She found out (how, I know not) that Tomlinson was in the habit of allowing his wife to address him as “Sid.” You will now be in a position to grasp Tomlinson. He was, you will see, quite beyond the pale, the sort of man, in fact, who, if you met him and inquired after his health, would be nearly certain to reply, ‘“ Nicely, thanks ; how's yourself?” I confess I was a little sorry for the Tomlinsons. It is never pleasant to feel that one is not wanted. Yet it must be admitted that they bore up very bravely, so bravely, indeed, that it almost seemed as if they hardly realised what they were missing. Tomlinson went on with his rolling and his wife continued to hang out her washing all down the back garden with an in- difference to public opinion that could not have been more complete if they had been inhabiting a desert island. Miss Withers was very bitter about it. “This,” she said, “is what comes of providing the masses with cheap edu- cation.” I often wondered exactly what she meant by this remark, which struck me as irrelevant to the situation; but she I felt sure there must be something in it. One day last January I met her at the bottom of the road. ‘“ Have you heard?” she said. ‘The man Tomlinson has

enlisted.” It was true. Though slightly | think, opposite. “I suppose you have heard about him ?” “Yes,” I answered sympathetically, “This is a terrible war,” she said, and turned and walked dejectedly up the path to her front door. But worse was in store for her. There was no stopping the enemy. By the end of July he was a major; in the middle of August he was invalided home with a bullet wound in his leg. And when he returned to us it was not merely as an officer. Tomlinson came | home a Y.C. I shall never forget his arrival at ‘“Rosedene.”” For an hour or more the road had been filled by an _ excited crowd, and when at last Tomlinson appeared in a motor-car with his wife and the General Officer com- | manding the district the en- | thusiasm became so_ intense that the railings in front of | Miss Withers’ house gave way with a crash and several of the populace were deposited among | her geraniums. I was standing | | quite close to the scene of the | disaster. What would Miss | Withers do? Would she faint? Would she go into hysterics? Would she sue Tomlinson for damages? Would she write to ‘the papers? I half expected to see her rush forth upon the invaders and butcher them in cold blood before they could | rise. With a shudder I turned /my eyes away from the wreck, and for a full minute I dared not glance again in its direction.

this instrument is regarded as Ie ) ( correct ; ours is not one of them. When I did, I saw Miss Withers The piano we know, also the BREAKING THE NEWS TO A FAVOURITE TEAPOT, THAT IN on her doorstep. There was a | violin, and Miss Withers herself oe cae aes = ae pos THERE MUST IN FUTURE © flush on her face, but not of rage. = ia - P = BE ONLY ONE SPOONFUL OF TEA FOR EACH PERSON, AND = . . ‘ ss . _ has confessed to some acquaint- 4... ror THE Por. Oblivious of her garden fence, oblivious of what the road might she was waving in one hand over military age, he had prevailed!a handkerchief, in the other a small on the authorities to accept him, and} had left us to serve his King and! Country. I admired his spirit and said so, but Miss Withers refused to share my enthusiasm. “It is a pity they can’t take his wife too,” she said. <A little later we heard that he had gained a commission. This time it was I who broke the news to Miss Withers. It was obviously a blow to her, but she took it well. “The Army is not what it was,” she remarked sententiously, and changed the conversation. Weeks passed, and then the gazette announced that Tomlinson had been promoted to the rank of captain. For several days I avoided Miss Withers, and when at length she overtook me one morning I carefully kept off the subject. As we parted at her gate she looked across the | road at the Tomlinsons’ house just! Union Jack, and with her foot she was heating time to the crowd's enthusiastic rendering of “‘ He’s a jolly good fellow.” | Then I did a foolish thing. <A very | stout, phlegmatic-looking man was standing immediately in front of me. I took off his hat and flung it high into the air. It was an act which sub- sequently cost me half-a-guinea. But [ didn’t care. Nothing really mattered that afternoon. If you happen te be going down our road any day about 4.30 p.m., you may possibly catch a glimpse on the lawn behind one of the houses of a small | lady, rather past middle age, and a| short, thick-set man in khaki, who smokes a pipe and walks with a slight limp. It is Miss Withers and Tomlin- son, playing croquet.

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915 heard! | cally, said, lly up her. y. By or; in alided is leg. aS not | came | val at | re the xcited linson S wife com- | e en- | itense nt of | > Way | of the | mong | nding of the | Miss faint ? erics ? ym for ‘ite to | fed to n the | 2m in| could | urned vreck, dared ction. ithers Was a | rage. fence, night hand small e was jastic low.” very was me. | high | sub- But tered n our | may lawn | small | nd a who | slight | mlin- Ocroser 6, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Englishman (condoling with French officer whose horse has broken his’ knees). ‘‘ WELL, HE POOR OLD CHAP!’”’ French Officer. ‘* Mats Non, Monstevr! hy j A) WAS ON HIS LAST LEGS, ANYWAY, Ir vos ON HIS FIRST LEGS THAT HE FALL.”’ OUR BOOKING-OFFICE, (By Mr. Punch’s Staff of Learned Clerks.) Mr. Conrap of course has a way of looking on life as a low, sneaking sort of fellow, lurking in unsuspected places with a deadly sandbag. I suppose that in his Victory (METHUEN) he means to show the relentlessly tragic effect of the malevolent gossip of an evil-minded man on the fortunes of a guileless idealist. His central figure, Axel | Heyst, is a nobly born Swede, son of a crank, and he | Inherits a paralysing philosophy of negations and distrusts | Which make him by choice a hermit, a wanderer and a | man of indecision. Out of a dubious South Pacific Island hotel, kept by one Schomberg, a loathly, bullying, envious | Teuton (an old villain of Mr. Conrap’s and no product of | the War-spirit), Heyst carries away in pity to his lonely | home a young English girl who has fallen on evil days in | a travelling troop of singers, and is being persecuted chiefly, | but not only, by the infatuated hotel-keeper, who, eager | for revenge, by a lying tale about Heyst’s treasure of ill- gotten gold persuades two egregious scoundrels to follow him. For myself I have to summon up all my faith in Mr. Conrap’s artistic sincerity to believe in any such bizarre ruffians as the primitive and bloody Ricardo and | the languid, gentlemanly Jones. One might accept them | in Treasure Island, but in the elaborately contrived realism | of Mr. Conrap’s setting they seem incredibly fantastic. His perfected subtlety of method is indeed almost too delicate a medium for the presentation of the fast and | | | | | furious riot of passion and bloodshed that Victory in the end becomes. Nor can I help thinking that, pressing the consequences of the Schomberg-Heyst affair far beyond the point of decent probability, he has loaded his dice, so to speak, and destroyed that sense of inevitability which ought to be the dominant impression of a tragedy worked out in this ruthlessly detailed and motived way. And having delivered this tentative judgment for conscience’ sake, let me beg of you to ignore the misgivings of an ultra- sensitive and hand yourself over to the enjoyment of a delicate, tender romance and as exciting a yarn as was ever spun out of the very tough fibre of the South Sea Islands by a master craftsman. Mr. Hugu Watpote displays a nice discrimination in nurseries. This was one of my first reflections after reading The Golden Scarecrow (CAssELL). Indeed one might adver- tise the book thus:—* Advice to Mothers. Read this if you wish to understand your child!” One may at least say for the volume that it is quite unlike anything else ; further, that it is in many ways of a singular and haunting charm, Its scope embraces a tour of the nurseries of a certain aristocratic London square and a sympathetic study of their infant owners. Mr. WALPOLE must himself be a bachelor, this class being notoriously confirmed believers in the “ trailing clouds of glory” idea of babyhood. The type is here very pleasantly suggested, and with a quite reverent touch of humour, in the person of a Friend (unseen by the grown-ups of the nurseries) whose mission it is to launch the small souls

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| bad lot. 300 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. upon their new life. There are of course three obvious dangers for a book such as this, concerned wholly as it is with various aspects of one idea. It might easily become priggish or sentimental or monotonous. The first of these perils Mr. WaALPcLE triumphantly avoids; from the other two you may think perhaps that his escape has been more narrow. I will not do him the injustice of retailing the matter of his various studies, of which his style of telling is the great charm. But I will indicate my own preference for the episode of Barbara Flint (an entirely delightful study of childish friendship) and for the penetration into small boy nature shown in the account of Young John Scarlett on the day before he first went to school. My advice further is—do not read the book in a lump; keep it at hand, so that when you feel like a change to refreshing society you can go upstairs with Mr. WALPoLE and spend an hour in the nursery. It will well repay the / —s climb. Stories of dual personality have by this time lost the thrill of novelty. In most the scheme has been on the lines of Jekyll and Hyde, with the Subconscious Self usually more or less of a Davenport (Hutcuiy- son) breaks new ground, inas- much as here the 8.8. becomes a pattern of all the virtues, and the personality whom at times he supplants remains of very in- ferior clay. The protagonist of Mr. Cuartes Marriort’s tale is a young photographer, who | at first adopts the disguise of a fictitious friend, Davenpcrt, to whom he may attribute thoughts and sayings of his own, which | in his ordinary state of mind he only imperfectly comprehends. ° When, owing to the interference | of a young woman with spiritu- | alistic tastes, the Davenport side | of Harry Belsize is defined, it, or he, takes on a separate ex- istence as a philosopher whose writings convulse England, while poor Harry, who is doing it all in his sleep, is left more hobbledehoy than ever. If I fail to make this | quite clear to you, I may plead that Mr. Marrrorr himself has not been much more successful. There are agreeable | passages in the story, notably the picture of the over- A SUBURBAN GENTLEMAN, WITH HIS MIND FULL INAPPROPRIATENESS OF crowded Rectory in which poor double Harry was dragged | through a perplexed boyhood. And I liked the notion of giving him an enormous hero-worship for the mysterious Davenport. Otherwise I have, as always, an idea that the whole subject is a little too big for treatment in the guise of fiction. Also, since it is abundantly clear from the begin- ning that Harry and Davenport are the same person ‘the laborious collection of proof is in danger of becoming weari- some. But when all is said Mr. Marriorr remains a dignified and conscientious artist, and this in an age of slipshod writing may well excuse a superfiuous page. Mr. Michael Sampson, the hero of Little Hearts, by Marsorie L. C. PicktHatn (METHUEN), had some points in common with The Master of Ravenswood: he was a very indigent young gentleman who lived alone in a ruinous old house and was waited on by a devoted but cantankerous old serving-man. so had the COST OF LIVING, IS SUDDENLY OVERCOME BY THE SINGULAR [Ocroner 6, 1915, | But there were differences too; for Mr. | Sampson did not come to a tragic end, and he was no man of action, but a scholar engaged i in writing a “ Philosophy of Poverty.” Poverty had a c: ‘pital letter in this work ; and other nouns, because it was written about the middle of the eighteenth century. Mr. Sampson's | philosophic meditations were interrupted one day by the apparition of a young gentleman who was thrown from his | horse over the garden-wall and landed in the violet-frame, with some damage to the flowers and to his own head. | Circumstances made it appear-—-it was only appearance— | that the gentleman thus projected was a Jacobite, pursued by agents of Kinc Grorar. Mr. Sampson loved him at | first sight and harboured him from pursuit, and continued to love him in circumstances which made his love singularly generous; but he could not save him. A reader would be hard to please who found no- thing to suit his taste in this book. The two friends ride far and fast to escape their pur- suers ; and, for those who prefer reflection to action, there are ex- tracts from the “ Philosophy of Poverty,’ containing much nice | observation of life. MAarsorte PICKTHALL’s style delicate and pretty, and from beginning to end her work shows a very dainty craftsmanship. is It all depends on what you demand from an historical novel. If you will have nothing but heroes vaulting on chargers and racing across country to foil plots against the king, or if you insist on plain John Blunts ollowing their dear lords to the | Wars, you must go elsewhere for your intellectual refreshment. But if you can enjoy a leisurely | ARNOLD BENNETT-like chronicle of a man’s youth and develop- RETURNING FROM THE Crrr, ‘ment, a novel of atmosphere OF THE WORRIES OF THE RISING rather than action, you will like THE NAME OF HIS HOUSE. Pretty Maids All In A Row, which is the silly and quite meaningless title of Justin Huntiy McCarruy’s latest novel (Hv RST AND Brackett). It is the story of the life of Francois Vition from early childhood to the moment when he was compelled to fly from Paris after killing Pamipre Sermors. Mr. McCartuy’s Villon is not the Villon of A Lodging For The Night, but a chivalrous and blameless Villon, so much more sinned against than sinning that one can hardly realise that this is supposed to be the | same person whom STEVENSON showed debating within | himself as to the advisability of knifing the good man who | had given him shelter. However, you pay your four-and- sixpence and you take your choice. For my own part, I thoroughly disbelieved in this latest portrait, but I enjoyed | Pretty Maids All In A Row immensely. There is a pleasant smoothness about everything that Mr. McCarrny writes, and he certainly has the gift of making the reader live in | the past. But the more historical novels I read, the better | I appreciate the merits of my own century. The only) people who seem to have had even a passably good time in | those days were the great nobles, and it would have been | just my luck to have been born a varlet or even a scurvy | knave. | | | |

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1b. | — a r Mr. | man ophy > and ibout son's y the | n his ‘ame, head. | 1ce— rsued m at nued | arly ld be | no- . this le far pur- refer "e eX- hy of nice JORIE licate ning very you ovel. > but ; and foil f you lunts o the re for nent. urely nicle elop- yhere | like Row, quite atest o life ment lling the and ning » the ithin who and- rt, I oyed | sant rites, ve in etier | only ve in

| the

OcToBER 13, 1915.] CHARIVARIA. Wit reference to the recent sug- gestion to adopt a new motto tor London in place of the time-honoured Domine Dirige Nos Mr. Punch respect- fully points out that it would be un- wise to make any change whilst the Lighting Order is in force. A correspondent was informed by the milkman, who brings him his early morning War news, that “ Belgravia’s coming in;” and he is now kicking himself because he did not reply, “ Oh, that’s nothing; Suburbia’s been in all the time.” Engine-driving is one of the accomplishments of the Tsar of Butearia, who has promised to lend his royal railway-carriage to Princess HOHENLOHE on her way from Turkey to Berlin; and it is rumoured that as a further mark of friendship he may take his place on the foot-plate, and save the cost of a return-ticket. We learn that the King of But- GARIA was annoyed with last week’s Charivaria:— ‘* Birds in bush? Silly tosh! I’m a fully-fledged Bosch ; You should hear me hum Srravss’s last aria.”’ The German Government spares no pains in its endeavour to arouse nthusiasm of the younger generation for the War. It has now commandeered, ostensibly for the sake of their copper, the baths in the Berlin municipal schools, * * There is really nothing extra- ordinary in the story that the Ger- mans are sending deaf mutes to the Front. The Austrians until recently employed an ambassador who was even DumBa. * x In an account of the Imperial Press- | | cutting 3ureau at Berlin it is stated that ‘upon the appearance of anything very obnoxious to the ‘All-Highest’ the fact is immediately communicated to him by telegraph wherever he may happen to be.” Whatever other muni- tions he may lack, the War Lord is never likely to be short-of barbed wires. * The Neue Freie Presse declares that the Zeppelin raids have had such an ‘¢ You RE A BLOOMIN’ FINE SOLDIER! TAUGHT YER EVERYTHINK I KNOW, AN’ YOU STAND THERE AN’ DON’T KNOW NOTHINK!”’ (who, it will be remembered, is “the English Poet’’) is “silent.” These noisy coruscating gas-bags defy com- petition. KiInG ConsTANTINE’S strange attitude is generally attributed to the influence of @vEEN SopHte. Withaslight altera- tion Porson’s famous epigram seems to fit the situation :— The Germans in Greek Are sadly Not five in five-score But ninety-five more ; All save only her man, And—her man’s a German. to seek ;

pesit — YU {4 WAN y| 1] . a | \, \ \ | \ | YOY | lls s || i Nr < vara) ) | ae | SU uP | |

We regret to see The Pall Mall Gazette lending its support to the German belief in the sordidness of 3ritish aspirations. In a recent issue PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

Tite. Le STH. ice "ERE’S ME it mentioned that before going into} battle our soldiers sang “ that old hymn, | | Belgium evoked this remark from a ‘O Gold, our Help in Ages past.’ ”’ Governor of the Isle of Man, induced | | the Tynwald to agree to the imposition and then only on the understanding that they would be levied for one year. | In the matter of taxation “ Man wants of increased duties on various articles, effect upon “ intellectual London” that| but little here below, nor wants that | one brilliant author has fled to America, another’s latest novel (written, by the Way, some time before the raids) is | little long.” _ | * 301 Station in order that they might be sobered by a climb of its ninety-four steps. A lift has now been installed there, but Sir THomas WHITTAKER will be glad to learn that the will be retained for use in emergency. This means, we gather, that only sober passengers will be elevated. We are all for discouraging undue optimism, but we think that The Times overdid it in describing the Treasury returns from April 1 to September 30 as ‘“ Nine Months’ Revenue.” * | An American play, called Believe me, Xantippe, has been brought to | Europe and rechristened Willie yoes West. It is hoped that a pro- minent actor on the Continental stage will before long perform the | title-rdle. —" A paragraph informs us that jat a meeting of the British {Committee of the International 'Women’s Congress “there were some 150 women present and one . man.” More justice would have ») been done to the intrepidity of ~ | this hero if the statement had read, |“ 150 women and ‘some’ man.”

Fourpence a pound was the quotation for venison recently in London. At that price we can no longer call it—expensive. | joke needs thought.) A high police authority is quoted by The Evening Standard as havy- ing said, ‘“ The work of the London |telephone system has been mag- nificent during the War. It has silently been of enormous assist- ance to every department.” The giver of this remarkable testimo- nial must have been an Irishman.

A donkey used at Hampstead to take wounded soldiers for drives has been given the name of “ Kaiser.” Where is thé R.S.P.C.A. ? Rumours of a_ British landing in . | working man :—‘‘ My mother, Sir, who With some difficulty Lord RaGuan, lives with my brother who is at work in Pall Mall, tells me they’ve landed 100,000 at Southend, but she may have muddled it somehow.” x &k The official report of the Bulgarian Government on its negotiations with the Entente Powers is to take the appropriate form of a Green-book. | ko It was a common practice, we read, Distinguished Allies in our midst: “miserably poor,” and eyen SHAw—|to turn out drunken men at Wapping |S’Ers Tree. staircase |

VOL. CXLIX.

(This |

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302 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. JANET. Herz is a description of “ Janet,” a lady rose newly arrived, extracted quite literally from a catalogue of new | varieties just issued. We add one or two as yet unpublished notices of blossoms known to us all:— ”* “JaneT (Hybrid Tea).—An ensnar- ing or seductive rose of greatest charm, and an unquestioned acquisition. In colour it is of great refinement, being in the young stage delicate egg-yolk silky salmony flesh or golden ochre on very delicate pearly champagne - biscuit fawn. The thick shell-like petals tone down to delicate but intense fawn with intensified centre, almost chrome. A greatly-to - be - desired -in -every-garden rose. Its strong delicious perfume adds much to its exquisite chasteness. The more this rose is examined do its beauties reveal themselves, and they never pale. Exemplary habit, long rigid flower-stalks on erect wood, furnished with long oval leathery waxy foliage. Exceptionally floriferous,” Witu1Am (Prusso-Austrian Briar).— An ensnaring and seductive rose of markedly acquisitive habits. In colour it is of great refinement, being in the fully - expanded stage delicate break- fast-ultramarine, submarine, eggs-and- | bacon-pan-German-pots-dam-vulgarian or golden bagdad lucre on very delicate turkey-red beaten - black - and - blue - in- champagne. The thick tortoise-shell- like rind of self-complacency tones down to delicate but intensely self- centred one-sided self, with an inten- | sified glory of self in the centre. A greatly - desiring - to-be - in - everybody - else’s-garden rose. Its strong delicious | personality adds much to its exquisitely chaste self- righteousness. The more this rose is exposed do its beauties reveal themselves, and they never pall or fade. Long rigid chaste waxy side- shoots off the wood. An exceptionally free and continuous bloomer. GrorGE (Welsh Bull-Dog Rose).—A rose of the most beguiling and seduc- tive charm and an_ unquestionable national acquisition. In colour it is of great refinement, being in the young stage delicate leek-green your-life-or- your-money sows-ear-silk-pursey or golden ogre on very delicate early-in- the- morning wines-and-spirits takes- the-biscuit. In its later stages its shells- and-shells- and - more - shells-like blossoms, which are produced in ever- increasing profusion, burst from shoots of exceeding vigour in chaste spiral gradations. A greatly-to-be-desired-in- some - people’s - workshops rose. Its strongly delicious rhetorical pungency adds much to its exquisite chasteness. | ‘beauties reveal themselves, and they | never, never fade. Habits and manneis exemplary. Foliage long. Exceptionally oratorically floriferous. too-much-commended British rose. | DOGS AT BAY. | CERTAIN protests against continuing to keep pets in war time having been made in the papers and elsewhere— and particularly mentioning dogs—a |meeting of protest has been held at) |the Canine Street Hotel in order that | |some line of action on the part of the | threatened animals might be decided | upon. The Chair was taken by a well-known bob-tailed sheep-dog. Letters of regret from Mr. Bark, the Russian Finance Minister, Mr. Orro Bett, and other 1n- vited guests having been read, and a careful search made for any concealed dachshunds, one of which disguised as ‘a grey-hound being destroyed nem. | |con., the meeting opened. They were met, said the Chairman, | to frame a resolution that should meet | land dispose of the criticism that they | | were parasites and idlers in times of stress and economy. But first they had, of course, to satisfy themselves, | or rather each other (Hear, hear), that | their existence was justified. For his | ‘own part he had nothing to say on that subject, for it was only too evident that without his services society would suffer. But for him, and his friend the | collie, where would be England’s mut- | ton? Even more so, where would be | England’s mutton-bones ? (Sensation.) | After the expression of heart-felt emo- | tion which they had just witnessed, he felt that he need say no more as to the |value of his own services. But what of the others present? Perhaps testi- | mony would be offered, and with this end in view he invited discussion. | (Applause.) | A Great Dane expressed his willing- iness to do anything in the nature of | | draught work, as his relatives did in France and Belgium; but unhappily | the laws of England did not permit of this. He hoped that something would | speedily be done to legalise dog-labour. je | ries of ““ Wow, Wow !”’) | A Newfoundland said that obviously it was absurd to threaten the existence of such as himself so long as there was water for people to fall into and be rescued from. (Hear, hear.) He did not consider himself touched by the strictures against pets. | A St. Bernard agreed with the last speaker. It would be madness, he said, to dispense with his services, for in a country with such a climate as| | . ; . . j . la ; ’ |The more this rose is examined do its| England’s you never knew when a A never-to-be- | |!be a burden to his owner. [OcToBeR 13, 1915. snowstorm might come, in which tray- ellers would be overwhelmed and need assistance. (Loud applause.) A turnspit said that nothing but the | abolition of the spit made him idle. He longed for work. (Hear, hear, and laughter.) Several other speakers having ex- pressed their willingness to help human beings in their own way—as guardians, |rat-killers, cat-hunters, and so forth a venerable Airedale rose and craved the attention of the meeting for a practical suggestion. Man, he said, was the friend of dogs, and dogs must all be loyal to their masters. (Hear, hear.) stood that the present crisis had arisen because many persons held that they were no longer justified in keeping and feeding useless animals. Very well then, for his part he would state that he intended never again to (Cheers.) In future he intended to find his own meals for himself. (Great enthusiasm.) He under- | Rather than permit his owner, for | whom he entertained the deepest de- votion and respect, to go to the expense of feeding him, he should obtain his food from next door. (Sensation.) Look- ing at the subject dispassionately he was bound to say that he could see no other way out. (Loud cheers.) Several other speakers having ex- pressed their determination to follow the excellent advice of the Airedale and relieve their masters from the responsi- | bility of feeding them, a Pekinese asked to be allowed to say a word or two. Speaking in Chinese through an interpreter, she said she regretted her inability to work, nor permitted opportunities of foraging in the basement next door; but she had /so often heard her owner say, in tones of obvious sincerity, that life without her, the speaker, would be unbearable, that she considered it her duty to continue in the house with an easy conscience as a comfort and joy. (Loud cheers.) And she believed that there was not a Peek in that wonderful gathering who did not share this view. | (Intense enthusiasm.) At this moment a Zeppelin passing was. she | over the Eastern Counties dropped a | lachrymatory Pom through the hotel roof and the meeting’ dissolved into tears. A Quiet Patient. ‘* THE ScHooLMASTER's ILLNESS.—Mr. ——, who has undergone an operation in a London hospital, going on satisfactorily. hospital escaped damage.”’ Leighton Buzzard Observer. is The |

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——— a in od he in rd es ut le, to sy ad re ful ng a tel 1to lon | [he PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Ocroser 13, 1915... So SS Aa WN SN HOA WOES SSS : TSS SSSS5 =~ Se WED ea ON THE KING’S HIGHWAY. SpectaL ConsTaBLe. ‘WHO GOES THERE?” Mr. Puncnu. “A FRIEND OF ALL GOOD CITIZENS—AND VERY GRATEFUL TO YOU.”

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| | | —————— October 13, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. 305 Mother. ‘‘ Now, Biniy, SAY GRACE AFTER YOUR BREAKFAST.”’ Mother. ‘‘Ou, Bitty, THAT WASN'T MUCH OF A GRACE.”’ Billy. ‘* Faxks FOR MY B’EKFAST.”’ Billy. ‘* Wet, If WASN'T MUCH OF A B'EKFAST. THE WOES OF A WOUNDED. THE PARCEL. Harpy in some slow labouring hulk it rested, That fairy freight of which my wife had writ, Or sunken lay, by curious fish infested, Where the sly submarine had done its bit, Or some rude soldier by the busy shore Forsaken found it, and disgraced his corps, Knew not the kind of fellow it was for But sipped its sweets, and intercepted it For it was late. And when I guessed its glories, The billowing natal cake, by secret code Fashioned and decked in Cook’s laboratories, With snowy shells and chocolate cannon strowed ; And precious fruits and tawny cattle-tongue (Alas, now mute); with smokes from Afric sprung (And o’er them all the scent of home is hung, The inimitable scent of Argyll Road), Like some great General whose harassed forces Are short of shells or bayonets or rum, I mooned o’er maps and traced the deep-sea courses And where torpedoes might be troublesome, Or like some Tyrian trader paced the cliff That seaward sought the merry Grecian skiff, Knowing his business would be busted if Shy traffickers, his clients, did not come. In vain they sought to soften the position, Insisting, ‘“ There is nothing for you, Sir, But forty thousand rounds of ammunition Have just come in;”’ for me it made no stir: To souls who sojourn in the SuuTan’s land And know no sustenance that is not ‘ canned,” It’s good, of course, to see the maxims manned, But one small parcel is much jollier. And then it came. But, ere the sun was hidden, A clever shot had laid me on the green, And here in hospital, where food's forbidden And only the white milk is sometimes seen, In a far camp beneath the Eastern stars I seem to see my cates and my cigars Consumed, alas, by Simpson! and it jars. I like to think how ill he must have been. The Bulldog Breed. ‘‘ Shortly after Alderman Shorrock attempted to start the National Authem, but was told to sit down by the chairman. He was afterwards seized by the stewards and led from the room amid a great uproar. ‘* When the uproar had subsided, Alderman Shorrock attempted to start the National Anthem, but was told to sit down by the chairman. | He was afterwards seized by the stewards and led from the room | | amid a great uproar.’’—Lirerpool Daily Post and Mercury. The Alderman is evidently a believer in the good old maxim, “ Try, try again.”

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306

THE MAP-MAKERS. I nap always thought that in order to make a map one had to be accom- panied by a whole battery of theodolites, sextants, artificial horizons, spirit-levels, and logarithm tables. It was not until Petherby told me that all one required | was a sheet of paper, a pencil and a compass, that the subject in all its

| naiveté began to appeal to me. Then one morning he came round to my house and proposed that we should spend the day in making a map of thie neighbourhood. I explained to him that there already existed a highly in- genious plan of the district on view free at the railway station, which, be- sides indicating the principal thorough- fares and objects of historical interest, showed how, by, changing trains only eleven times, it was possible to travel subterraneously from Bow} toad to Golder’s Green vid Kennington Oval without ever | coming up to (asthe Londoners | say) breave. “We can do better than that,” said Petherby, and we started. c PUNCH, OR THE LONDON 'for the railway map was hopelessly out

CHAR IVARL fOctroser 13, 1915,

of the market by War Office reckoning. But then the poor fellow never had Petherby’s advantage of attending lectures by an expert. He probably never knew that in order to get the correct relative positions of the Streat- ham tram-depot and the Brixton Bon Marché, he ought to have lain down in the puddle outside the former and taken a fresh “ North.” I attribute my subsequent attack of gastric catarrh solely to my conscientious observance of this very necessary detail. But I bore my suffering bravely in the know- ledge that the Bon Marché is really 347 paces easter than most people think. We discovered other discre- pancies of a more or less serious nature,

. . € _ ie iW e had some trouble at first | y Zk with Petherby’s compass. ,,4 Nl iess After spending the whole Sse morning in making a map of = the wild solitudes of Tooting .———-—— Bee we discovered that the needle didn’t point North. In fact, it had taken up a perma- nent sou’-sou’-westerly aspect. As a guide to the North Pole I would just as soon have em- ployed a hot cross bun, or even Dr. Cook. I asked Peth- erby if he thought that the magnetic pole had through constant use lost its eflicacy. But Petherby said no; it had not hitherto exhibited signs of exhaustion. Then I suggested to my friend that possibly he had omitted to wind the compass up over night and that it had run down. Petherby, on the other hand, suggested some unwarranted aspersions on my mental stability, and laid the blame of the disaster upon a biscuit-crumb which had worked its way in between the glass and the dial. If ever Petherby (usually the most orderly and punctili- ous of Special Constables) gets court- martialled and sentenced to be shot at cock-crow, it will be entirely owing to his deplorable habit of carrying his compass in the same pocket with his emergency rations, ‘*‘Oup SIMON UP AT

The trouble being at length rectified | we got to work in earnest, and the final results we achieved showed un- deniably that whoever was responsible Rep Cow WAS SAYIN’ THAT LUNNON FOLK WAS FAIR SPLITTIN’ ’EMSELVES OVER THIS ’ERE CHARLIE ZEPPELIN !”’

"E ’EARD “How would it be,” I suggested, “to give the compass a day off, and bring your aneroid? Then all we shall have to do will be to climb to the summit—somehow—and look at the instrument, when it will at once tell |us how high we are above sea-level.” | ‘How does it do that?” asked Petherby sarcastically. ‘ Does it chime the number of feet, or does a cuckoo emerge from a door in the dial and cuck it?” “T don’t know how it tells the altitude,’ I said, “but it does. <Aero- nauts always use one to calculate their height from the ground, and I daresay that’s how those Zeppelin chaps know when they ’re low enough down to stand a chance of bombing a baby.” “T could have told them they were low enough down to do that without appealing to an aneroid,” said Petherby. “Of course,” I continued, “the drawback is that if we make our observation at low tide we shall be much higher up than if we took it at high tide.” “I’ve got to attend a lecture to-morrow morning,” said Petherby, ‘‘ and I'll ask the lecturer for a simple homely recipe for calculating alti- tudes. Ten to one he'll know of some method which will be as easy as pie.” My own experience of pie is that it is almost invariably hard. I told Petherby so. And I said I could think of a very simple way. “Well,” said he on a note

chief among which was the lamentable | of irony, “if you can think of it be- omission in the station map of the tween now and to-morrow afternoon road in which the house was where I shall be obliged if you will let me those two pseudo-refugee ladies were | know.” I promised faithfully, and we found shaving one morning recently | parted. and—however, you know the story.| By the last post that night I sent I only mentioned it because the affair! Petherby a brief note. ‘ Never mind took place in the house of some friends | about asking your lecturer,” I wrote. of some friends of Petherby’s, and thus | The chimney’s 78 feet high. After I am in a measure personally con-|we separated I thought of a very nected with the episode. |simple way of making the calculation. On our way home late that afternoon | I walked back to the tea-works and Petherby drew my attention to a tall| asked.” chimney. It belonged to a tea com- pany, though I can’t think why a tea- From: the report of a dairymen’s | works should require a structure of such anaiiminen: - altitude, unless for the making of high | ' ‘ | The Chairman said he would be sorry to tea. : = We'll 1 t — take drastic steps, but he felt that they should ei come here to-morrow ailer- | take the bull by the horns and say point blank noon,” said Petherby with enthusiasm, | that there would be no milk delivered in the ‘“‘and work out the height of that | metropolitan area at 23d."__ chimney. 1’m not quite sure how to! Adelaide Advertiser. set about it. It seems almost too The bull, we suppose, was to pass severe a task for the capabilities of a on this vital information to his lady mere compass.” friends.

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. ted, und | we | the the tell ked ime koo and the ero- late d I elin ugh 1g a hem n to x to ued, we low sher igh ture | said the nely alti- ie ll hich pie ably $0. of a note - be- 1000 » me 1 we sent nind rote. \fter | very | tion. | and | 1en’s rry to hould | blank | n the ser. | pass | lady 1915.} OcToBER 13, PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAI A PAIR OF BRACES. SHOPPING in France is always a pleasure. The shop people are so gracious and appreciative of my lin- guistic efforts. My friends say I | overrate my knowledge of French, but in the main that is their jealousy. If | I have not the vocabulary I have a truly Gallic but my friends insist is merely simian. Be that as it may, when David asked me to join him and give him a hand in buying a pair of braces in —— I at once agreed without disclosing that the French for braces was as little known to me as the Sanskrit term for that necessary article. (For those of you who don’t know Sanskrit I may explain that the San- skritians didn’t wear trousers.) gracefully. (The best of writing a thing about oneself is that full justice “B’ jour, Monsieur,” she said. “Sil vous plait, Madame,” I con- tinued with my pleasant smile, ‘mon | aii désire des braces (day brass).”’ She looked blank, and her assistants looked blanker but interested. I pon- | dered. ‘ Des braces’ obviously should | be the proper phrase, and the sooner they learned it the better. “ Des braces, Madame, s’il vous | plait,” I repeated firmly and in a louder | voice. I wanted to show her I was not | to be tritled with. “Mais il n’y a pas de tel mot, | Monsieur. Ne comprend pas.” “Mais oui, Madame,’ I insisted, “des braces.” David here tried to make a noise like a pair of braces but was unsuccessful, and it was up to me again. As I was wearing the kilt I could not show her my own. Instead, | I opened my tunic and tapped my | breast on both sides. “Ah oui, Monsieur,’ she cried, delighted, as she produced the French equivalent for Keating’s Powder. My position as an interpreter was shaken to its very foundations, so I braced myself [Horrible—Ep.| to a} final effort. : “Madame, Monsieur mon ami désire | quelque chose vite pour défendre tomber ses pantalons,” I cried, waving my hands after the manner of the country. “Mais oui, Monsieur,’ she gasped between her shrieks of laughter, ‘‘ des bretelles, des bretelles !” Of course my friends say the correct word was “ empécher,” but I maintain there is an imperative note and a demand for good quality in a request for something which will actually “forbid” one’s trousers to come down. Gilinbuibimuatiatmceteermeans a celina wealth of gesture which I consider is, “ Bon jour, Madame,” I said, bowing | can be done to one’s personal graces | and accomplishments.) | VAR. KNITTING HAS AGAIN SET IN Gu -STAuPA. Fo + USUAL SEVERITY. WITH ITS THE ENEMY IN OUR MIDST. Trade Insults. ‘Wanted by Soap-making firm a Represen- | tative, on commission, for Sheffield district.— Write, giving full particulars, with previous soap experience, if any.’’—Sheffield Telegraph. ‘*A beautifully made unexploded bomb was recently found in the British trenches, capable of being thrown sixty yards, and its mechanism so contrived that it was bound to explode whichever way it fell.’’—Madras Times. With great consideration this particu- lar bomb appears to have remained standing. ‘* GENERAL.— Double - fronted shop with living rooms to Let; thickly populated; rent 12s. 6d. weekly inclusive.”’ Advt. in Daily Paper. only ; We certainly think that 12s. 6d. is very reasonable with the thick population | thrown in. | ‘*The National Register is to all of us at | |this time like the victorious, immoral signal | with which Nelson inspired his sailors.’’ Bangalore Daily Post. This almost amounts to sedition.

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308 AT THE FRONT. TueseE be stirring times. I remem- ber well how, in the summer of 1915, we used to envy the company chosen to occupy the lump of line we now cherish so reluctantly. Under the shadow of the poppy-strewn corn the C.O. and an odd General or two would drop in for a bit of lunch with the Company Commander of Willow Walk ; and on its stately verandahs was en- | joyed many a feast of walnuts, wine, | strawberries, meat and rations, and sunburnt mirth. Time can never let a good thing alone. When we came in five days ago we did not indeed expect sunburnt mirth. Four days’ consecutive rain militated against mirth or sunburn. But we had hopes of finding Wi low Walk the saine haunt of ancient pevce it had been of yore. It was not, It appears that the we argived the Willow Walk company had, at the instigation of some heart- less General, suddenly put on all the appearance of a body of desperate men on the point of an attack. They fired off their rifles regardless of the fact that you cannot turn out small arm ammunition under a penny a round. They screamed defiance in expeditionary vegetable morning before | French and foreeful English ; and to | We | artillery. top up with they let off a lot of horrid black smoke-bombs in the direction of the German trenches. These playful acts, coming as they did from the cloistered avenues of Willow Walk, completely unnerved the Germans, who had been a good deal attacked in other places the day before. thus diverted a lot of valuable The boly willows were ripped, torn and blown up. By dint of hitting nearly every inch of ground within a five hundred yards square, hostile artillery scored several direct | bulls on the trenches therein contained. almost averagely brave. When I say several I mean some. When I say some I mean you could see it had been trenches once, even if you hadn't known. I arrived while the echo of the last shell of the day was still resounding, put my platoon down for a minute in what looked like a bit of ploughed field with some planks sticking out of it, told them to make themselves nice and comfortable for the night, and went back to the mess dug-out to consider our prospects. I liked the mess dug- out. It was such a very cohesive conglomerate of protective appurten- ances, it looked as if it would hate to break the set for anything under a nine-inch shell. It made me _ feel PUNCH, OR TIE LONDON CHARIVARI. I went back and reconsidered my trench. It didn’t look so bad after all, once the sentries were posted and the N.C.O.’s mess had made tea. Anyone who really knows will tell you that tea is the dominating factor in this war. So I had tea, got the platcon plumbers and decorators to supervise necessary repairs, and turned as far in as circum- stances allowed. Next morning I awoke with a crash. I was shocked without being surprised, I dressed (i.e. put my cap on) hastily and went to see what it was about. It was, it seemed, only a trench mortar. I flatter myself I can be as unconcerned as anybody over a trench mortar I’m out of range of. I was just working up my most unconcerned manner when something came along very quickly and threw a section of my parapet over my parados. Similar incidents marred a magnificent day up till lunch- | time. On the second day the Bosch lost his appetite for parapet-pushing by breakfast-time. Thereafter we had long oases of peacefulness that almost recalled the long dead days of summer. The Bosch had at last assured himself that we were not going to attack yet for a day or two. Our stay in Willow Walk will be memorable, not so much for the fact that it rained exactly from ‘stand to” at night to “stand to” at dawn} as for the promotion of several promis- ing young officers, who, including myself, shall be nameless; and more | especially for the inadvertence of a/| certain promising young officer's ser- vant who, being given two extra stars to sew on to his master’s jacket, so disposed them that the said master, on donning the jacket, was revealed as a second lieutenant on his left arm and a captain on his right. It is to be regretted that not even the additional offers of a field-marshal’s baton and a good conduct stripe would persuade the officer to retain this striking and original constellation. ‘ c VEG. I NoriceD some time ago that some- hody expressed a wish, in the columns of Punch, that he had a turnip of his) own. Curiously enough, I lately conceived a somewhat similar longing, namely, to possess a vegetable marrow, body and soul. And at last I have realised my ambition. I am the somewhat proud owner of a full-sized marrow. Very little, so far as I can gather, is known about marrows, their nature and habits, outside of gardening and culinary circles. As household pets they are in small esteem, though they , |Maria (accent on the first syllable, 5. fOctoBEr 13, 191 give little or no trouble until their second childhood. I saw no reference to them in the | paragraphs which have recently ap- | peared in The Daily Chronicle relating | to the collective names of and _ the | sounds emitted by certain creatures, | and I was therefore interested to learn from another source that not only are mariows gYegarious, but that collec- tively, when alive, they are termed a “bream,” but when gathered and killed for eating they immediately become a “tod.” Their note, heard only in the Spring, and then but rarely, at any | rate in these Northern latitudes, is | spoken of as a “ chirp.” I have had my marrow from seed- hood. The seedsman from whom I purchased him would not sell me just one seed, as I wanted him to do; he insisted on my buying a packet. I could not possibly do with several bream of marrows, so I picked out Randolph, as I christened him there and then, from the packet, and planted him. I tried to give the rest of the packet away, but no one seemed to want it, so I eventually threw it in the road. I watered Randolph, tended him care- fully, and when he made his appearance I watched him daily growing more and more like a Zeppelin. At one time, for a day or two, I thought he was going to turn into a water melon, and I encouraged him to soar. But, alas, | it was only a fit of youthful swank. When he was about half grown, please) suggested our eating him; but | I did not like the idea at all. I ex- | 'plained that I was growing Randolph | ‘for pleasure, not profit. Besides, | | urged, it would not in any case do | during war-time to eat a marrowlet, | or whatever the young of the marrow | is called. Randolph, I to'd her, must | be allowed to mature. There would | be plenty of time when he was grown | up to decide on his career. “T know what we'll put him into,” said Maria. ‘“‘ What—trousers ?”’ I asked eagerly, having Randolph’s interests at heart. «A saucepan,” said Maria. I turned away in disgust. And now that Randolph is really grown up we have not, so far, definitely | decided on his future. Maria is still all for the saucepan ; I am all for keeping him as an ornament. The delicate yellow green which his complexion has assumed pleases my artistic sense. | There may, I argued only yesterday with Maria, be further developments | in his colour scheme. But meantime where to place Randolph has_ been | a matter for somewhat acrimonious

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De heir the ap- ting | the res, | arn are ‘lee- | “d a led | le a | the | any | » IS eed- n I just | - he eral out here nted the 1 to | the | “are: ince and | ime, was and ulas, wn, ible, but ex- olph s, 1] » do vlet, ‘row | nust ould own | ito,” erly, rt. rally itely il all ping cate xion snse. day ents time been | ious | OcToBER 13, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. discussion between us. |to hang on my _ watchchain, and Maria has flatly refused to have him on the drawing-room chimneypiece, even under a glass-case. Personally, as the pair of over-elaborate Dresden groups that Aunt Sophia gave us. Maria’s brother Bob, who is at Balliol, says Randolph’s future is a problem which solvitur thinking it over since breakfast this morning I am of the opinion that he may be right. I shall wait another few days, and if my suspicions, only slight at present, should be confirmed by another sense than that of vision, Randolph will be found in the casualty list among the “ Missing, believed thrown away.” THE COMPENSATION. [Lecturing on Byron at the Harrow County School, on Saturday, October 2nd, Miss Martz CorELLI lamented the absence of a national war poet. ‘‘ We appear to have no great poet,”’ she declared, ‘fitted to immortalise the magnificent courage that day by day adds lustre to our lengthening roll of honour. Feeble rhymes now and then appear in the Press, but a living poem is not forthcoming. If Byron were alive, what a difference it would make! Had he been living now he would have Shakespeare could. ... ‘*Compared:to Byron, Tennyson was but a | weak singer, Browning a clanking mill-wheel, while Swinburne lost himself in redundancy of rhyme and metaphor.”’ | THouGH myriads of minstrels environ Our soldiers with lyric and lay, The War hasn’t thrown up a Byron To answer the need of “The Day,” As matchless as MACHIAVELLI With passion and pathos in tons But no matter; we ’ve M—— C | To frighten the Huns. | If Byron had only been living— | Though a hundred-and-thirty or so | What beans he would daily be giving To Britain’s contemptible foe ! And yet, though no rending réveillé The patriot’s tympanum stuns, No matter; we've M—— C To scatter the Huns. And bards of inferior sort, Who, trusting to rickety pinions, The fate of young Icarus court; But their voices are lost in the mélée, They stir not the souls of our sons ; No matter; we ’ve M—— C To flatten the Huns. Poor SwinBuRNE was ruined by drown- ing His thought in a deluge of rhyme; While the muse of the late Robert BROWNING Was void of all musical chime; Ceili aititiamc a = I think he would be quite as ornamental | ambulando, and after | given us England’s Iliad, as only Homer or | | We've plenty of Bripces and Bryyoys, He is too big Crave — oneg Sailor (who has slipped on a banana-skin). ‘‘ TORPEDOED, BY GUM!’ A Modest Ambition. A diet for prudes or for nuns ; | A girl, fond of dogs, with slight knowledge | But no matter; we’ve M——- C—— of kennel work, requires situation in lady's | And Tennyson’s verse was like jelly, To shatter the Huns small kennel.’’—Morning Paper. ‘* Patients who are N.C.O.s . . . will wear their chevrons if marked ‘ up,’ and if confined to bed will be pinned to the wall of the mar- quee above their beds.”’ We haven’t a modern Tyrtzus Our shirkers and laggards to shame; | We haven’t a Miuton to free us From fetters that hamper our aim ; We haven't a latter-day SHELLEY To sing of munitions and guns; But no matter; we ve M—— C To hammer the Huns. That should keep them quiet. ‘¢ The Russians will defend Novogeorgiewxyz to the last.” | Toowoomba Chronicle (Queensland). Even if it takes them right off the alphabet. ‘‘Veal now practically disappears from the category of butchers’ meat. To-day there comes into force Lord Selborne’s Maintenance of Live Stock Order, which prohibits the slaughter of lambs under six months old.’’ Edinburgh Evening Dispatch. | Another trade secret revealed. ‘* Miss Ealine Rosenthal, a 19-year-old-girl, is the new champion of the Western Gold Association.”—-Jewish Daily Eagle (Montreal). We don’t doubt the statement for a moment,

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310 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Ocroner 13, 1915, 1 H t \ HiT Hh) i) | i] ) il) Ai TA TENE i ( i HAN) A | } | HH a mS | i tat | | ! Wty, | | IV Vi ah \\) i i | | { 1} } Mi EI wh lh | i Landlady. ‘‘’ERE’s THE ZEPPELINS, SIR!”’ . Wy why Wy YY, If » YY AST alis Millsias Lodger. ‘*Ricut-o! Pur ’EM DOWN OUTSIDE.”’ KILLED IN ACTION. Rupert is dead, and Rurert was my friend; “Only surviving son of ”—so it ran— * Beloved husband” and the rest of it. But six months back I saw him full of life, Ardent for fighting ; now he lies at ease In some obscure but splendid field of France, His strivings over and his conflicts done. He was a fellow of most joyous moods And quaint contrivings, ever on the point Of shaking fame and fortune by the hand, But always baulked of meeting them at last. He could not brook—and always so declared— The weak pomposities of little men, Scorned all the tin-gods of our petty world, And plunged headlong into imprudences, And smashed conventions with a reckless zeal, Holding his luck and not himself to blame For aught that might betide when reckoning came. But he was true as steel and staunch as oak, And if he pledged his word he bore it out Unswerving to the finish, and he gave Whate’er he had of strength to help a friend. When the great summons came he rushed to arms, Counting no cost and all intent to serve His country and to prove himself a man. Yet he could laugh at all his ardour too And find some fun in glory, as a child Laughs at a bauble but will guard it well. Now he is fall’n, and on his shining brow Glory has set her everlasting seal. I like to think how cheerily he talked Amid the ceaseless tumult of the guns, How, when the word was given, he stood erect, | Sprang from the trench and, shouting to his men, Led them forthright to where the sullen foe Waited their coming; and his brain took fire, And all was exultation and a high Heroic ardour and a pulse of joy. “ Forward!” his ery rang out, and all his men Thundered behind him with their eyes ablaze, “Forward for England! Clear the beggars out ! Remember —” and death found him, and he fell Fronting the Germans, and the rush swept on. | Thrice blesséd fate! We linger here and droop Beneath the heavy burden of our years, And may not, though we envy, give our lives For England and for honour and for right ; Sut still must wear our weary hours away, | While he, that happy fighter, in one leap, From imperfection to perfection borne, Breaks through the bonds that bound him to the earth. | Now of his failures is a triumph made ; His very faults are into virtues turned ; And, reft for ever from the haunts of men, He wears immortal honour and is joined With those who fought for England and are dead. R. C. L. ‘BULGARIAN PEASANTS’ FLIGHT FROM OUR OWN CORRESPONDENT.” , , Daily Mail. We don’t wonder. a Extract from police-instructions to property owners :— ‘*Keep supplies of water and sand available, especially in upper storeys and rooms at the bottom of wells.’’ These last are understood to be an official periphrasis for the offices of Truth.

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Ie th. | il. pper for | “LONDON CH. \R Iv ARI. —Oovene R 13, THE HOHENZOLLERN MARRIED INTO WHEN WE ENCOUNTER Kaiser (to his brother-in-law the Kine or Greece). “ J OUGHT TO DO AS . THAT WE—TEAR ) FAMILY DOES.

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PUNCI I OR THE LONDON CHARI x . ~~ mae Ths. whe SX Sawn iS. - Orderly Sergeant (who after dark has mistaken a barn full of sheep for his Company's billet). ‘‘ Now DON’T LET ME HAVE SO MUCH MOVING ABOUT WHEN I’M READING BATTALION ORDERs.”’ | VIRGINIA, HANTS. (Being a reply to “ The New Smoke.”) | | Sir Porr who rhymed so adroitly The praise of the Hampshire cigar, | The Planter’s first daughter is out for your slaughter, Though quite unaware who you are. You can’t be a native of Hampshire ; You hail from some county afal Or surely you’d know, Sir, the plant that we grow, Sir, Could not make a Hampshire cigar. The ignorance, Sir, of the public Is gross as concerning the weed ; For they think you can get Young Turk cigarette By planting Virginia seed. Let me tell you the climate of England Is just as adapted, indeed, For growing ba } a Havanas as_ tropic anas We don’t try what couldn’t succeed. We can grow a Virginia or Turkish High-class cigarette or a fag, Pipe tobacco for clubmen or baccy for pubmen, , Light golden or darkest of And all of ’em like our tobacco, Both wearers of petties and pants, But my ear simply ramps when you talk about ‘‘ Hamps,” And—we don’t grow cigars, Sir, in Hants. MORE MASCOTS FOR OUR HEROES. TORTOISES FOR THE TRENCHES. THESE delightful pets the unique advantage of carrying their own bomb-proof shelters always with them. Regimental crests stamped on their backs at a small extra charge. Each tortoise provided by the firm is supplied with a small pair of scissors tied round its neck by a piece of ribbon. Primarily intended for the trimming of the will purposes. pe SSess nails, these scissors useful for other pet's toe be found most Our SpeciaL LINE IN CHAMELEONS. These fascinating little reptiles are well known to possess the valuable military attribute of assuming the colour of their surroundings. Every chameleon provided by the firm is supplied, at a small extra charge, with la box of paints and two camel’s-hair This is for use should the | brushes. little pet fail to keep pace with the change of environment during an extra rapid advance (or retirement). Our Tamep Hippoporamt. In wet weather these placid brutes are well contented to recline for hours in the trenches with their backs show- ing slightly above the water level. Dry accommodation for a w hole platoon on the back of a single specimen. Warcu Cats ror THE WATCH IN THE NortH SEA. Doas These felines have been specially trained to give immediate warning of the presence of an enemy submarine in the vicinity. Every cat is supplied with eight spare lives, for which no extra charge is made. Insurance com- panies usually pay only on the ninth, or last, life. ‘* Babu Jogodish said that as the accused's father died suddenly on Monday, they were handicapped. The accused’s mother was then asked by the Magistrate as to who were to be called as witnesses on behalf of her son. She married Inspector Jennings, Mr. Walters and Mr. Monnier.’’—The Englishman, Calcutta. Well, whatever the accused's crime may have been, three step-fath rs at one blow was surely a sufficient punishment.

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314 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. [OctoBER 13, 1915, TERRORS OF THE DARK. (Under the New Lighting Regulations). A CorRESPONDENT of a provincial paper, quoted by The Evening Standard, having been knocked down in the dark by a perambulator, suggests that these vehicles should be compelled to hoot. If this complainant of somewhat unstable equilibrium has his way, we may anticipate the contents of a charge- sheet in the Cimmerian evenings that are descending upon us :— Bartholomew Buster, aged eight, no occupation—travelling on one roller- skate between the hours of eight and nine P.M. in Hammersmith Broadway, without giving audible notice of his approach by a bell or other apparatus, and thereby endangering the safety of foot-passengers. Montagu Fitz -Mont- ~~ morency, aged ten, stu- dent at a Kindergarten | —furiously coasting on a ‘* scooter” down the in- cline of the Broad Walk, Kensington Gardens, failing to use gong or megaphone in theauthor- ised manner, colliding with an old lady at the | entrance of the Gardens, | and putting his finger to | his nose on being arrested by the keeper. Belinda (alias Popsy) Bottlewell,aged one-and- a-half, spinster, and Peter a (otherwise Baby) Bottle- , well, aged six months, un- | married —falling asleep in their maileart and causing an obstruc- tion on the pavement outside Harrop’s Stores, while their nurse was inspect- ‘* GRAN’PA, ing the Autumn sales and conversing | with a soldier. William Pipsqueak, aged nine, paper- | boy—proceeding along the unlighted portion of Auriol Road, W., beyond the regulation pace, jostling a house- holder on the point of leaving his front- | gate, failing to sound his hooter, and using language calculated to cause a breach of the peace. Queenie Quennell, aged five, training to be a Nurse at the Front—pushing | a toy go-cart containing a wounded | soldier doll after dark without looking where she was going, impinging on a gentleman’s gouty toe, and endeavour- ing to laugh it off. ZIG-ZAG. The Way of a Maid with a Man. ‘‘Can anyone, wishing to get rid of car, supply young lady, who desires one to enable her to drive the wounded? Can be two- seater. Box .. .’’—The Times. | | CHANGES IN THE ARMY. | [New Regulations for officers’ dress are announced. } From War Secretary to 2nd Lieutenant S. O. Young. October 10th, 1915. I beg to inform you that after the 1st day of November the wearing of soft caps is prohibited. For Secretary of State for War (or for North and South Command), (Signed) B. E. Srricr. [Duly throw away soft cap.] From War Secretary (or from North and South Command) to 2nd Lieutenant S. O. Young. November 2nd, 1915. It has been decided to restore the use of soft caps. The wearing of stiff “CMON { | mt att TELL ME—IS THAT THE SORT OF THING TO LIVE IN ON HIS CANAL?”’ caps therefore is now strictly forbid- den and will be visited with severe | punishment. [Throw away stiff cap, and find that, owing to lack of demand for soft caps, no more have been manufac- tured, Am capless.| Extract from same letter as above. November 2nd. I also beg to inform you that after December Ist the wearing of any tunic except those of regulation cord is strictly forbidden. (Signed) B. E. Srricr. [Give away my fine serge tunic to my servant. | | From War Office (or from North and | South Command) to 2nd Lieutenant | S. O. Young. | | | | December 14th. I beg to state that it has been decided \that in future officers’ tunics shall be |made of fine serge only. The use of 'whipeord and all other varieties is | prohibited. (Signed) B. E. Srricr. OLD TIRPITZ HAS [Throw away new tunic and then dis- cover no more khaki serge manufac- tured, owing to fact it is not bought. Find myself tunicless. Obliged to wear British warm on parade. De- mand fine serge tunic back from my servant. Find he has sold it.) From War Office (or from North and S. O. Young. December 20th. It is hereby notified for your inform- black or brown Oxford shoes. and these must be of service pattern. (Signed) B. E. Srricr. others, however educated. Only Sait two pairs much-worn | | brown boots remain. | | Find, owing to de- mand, further boots unprocurable. From North and South Command to 2nd Licut- enant S. O.Young. December 26th. I beg to inform you that it has been decided that in future the wear- ing of brown boots is |forbidden. Youarethere- fore expected to appear on parade in black boots of service pattern only. | (Signed) B, E. Srrict. [Instruct servant to = put coat of black enameline on all brown boots. North and South Command to Qnd Lieutenant S. O. Young. December 30th. It is hereby notified for your inform- ation that in future no breeches, except those made of the new regulation whip- va A Yorms wENRY, From other varieties of material are strictly forbidden. (Signed) B, E. Srricr. [Enquire at all tailors in the town regarding new regulation whipcord. Find it is not known, of any kind unprocurable.| | Wire War Office. | Being unable to procure regulation ‘cap, tunic, boots or breeches, have re- ‘tired to bed. Pléase wire further in- structions. S. O. Youne, (2nd Lieutenant 9th Diddlesex), ‘*Man with wife and nine children in‘ the army.’’—Pembroke County Guardian. A nice family party for the trenches, ———— South Command) to 2nd Lieutenant | ation that it is forbidden to wear either | Brown | boots only are permissible in the future, | [Throw away all shoes—Oxford, Cam- | bridge, Sheffield University and all | cord, shall be worn by any officer. All | Whipcord |

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| OcTronER 13, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL.

’ TONGUES. | ' THE GIFT OF Lines by the Flag-Lieutenant, suggested by | the quaint Admiralty custom of presenting a | barrel of tongues to an admiral taking over | | a new command. ] |Ir your Lordships feel like generous |” deeds | | There are lots of things my Admiral | needs— | Things that his happiness might ensure, From a wife to a real sciatica cure. | | Give him a fleet and let him slang it ; | Give him a gun and a chance to bang it; Give him some bright young brains to staff him ; | Give him a Hun and a chance to straff him ; | Give him a cook who knows his mary; | | Give him a tactful Secretary ; | Give him, oh, give him—I wish you would— A Flag-Lieutenant who’s some d—d gC od !

| Shovel him this and ladle him that ; See that his sea is always flat ; But, if ever you've heard him stretch his lungs, Don’t go and TONGUES ! send him more | | any

DRAMATIC GOSSIP. | Sir ArtTHuR PrINERO’s experiment | with The Big Drum seems likely to be leading to great changes in the drama | | of the near future. We hear of more than one theatre where, pending the production of an American “ crook”’ play or a new revue, dramas are to be put up with a different ending for each night in the week. Critics are to be asked | to attend each performance before

» Vy Rao }|} eovrg: \\ First Reveller. ‘‘ Mx HEALTH!’ ie (UNM ject

I | i a HIN |p HN baat ue"

THE DAWN OF THE NO-TREATING ERA. Second Reveller. ‘*‘SaME HERE!”’

registering their deathless verdicts, and | the audience is to be provided with voting papers to record their views as to the most popular of the varied These papers will not be the best of these endings adopted permanently—using that word in its stage sense. dénouements.

been chiefly burglars or gunmen. In The Super Crook, which is promised for the Depravity Theatre and is the work of a Harvard student who has

inserted in the programmes, but handed to the audience as they enter, as it is wished that everyone shall have one. The most popular ending is not, however, to be played regularly, but merely more often than the others. It is felt that dramatic art, the aim of which is to give pleasure, will be | conspicuously fostered. next week, entitled By Your Leave, is make suggestions as to how things by the author) are to be offered by the management to the devisers of the three best ideas, and the play will then have a second first night, with

should be wound up. Prizes (to be paid | p A play to be produced at the Satiety|!a wittier title than the last. also to have a fluid conclusion, the| said Rats ? Keep your Seats, Make the audience in this case being invited to| Best of it and Who threw that Brick ? | store for it. It cannot be sufficiently emphasised that no matter how young and gallant! Professor of Dramatic Success in that and capable the gentlemen of the chorus, | university, we are to see a fascinating and even some principals, in the theatres | American figure of conspicuously taking and variety houses may appear when} personality who during the on the stage, there is not one among them who, outside, is not either very old, very ill, or very short-sighted. centre of the stalls—sometimes called a “joy plank’’—and undertakes every evening to purloin articles of value from the ladies and gentlemen present, which will be returned—or not, accord- ing to the popularity of the play— on the fall of the curtain. New York is said to have gone | engaging novelty. American “crook” plays still hold | the field, but what has been already | seen in London is nothing compared | with what that fortunate city has in Hitherto the crooks have More revues are promised, each with Among the most brilliant are Higher up! Who

Smith Minor’s Latest. Est-il parti ?—Tant mieux. “Ts there a party ?—My aunt.”

never missed a single lecture from the | per- | . ° } formance comes down the run in the mad over this |

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| been | affair has ended, leaving only a very 316 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [OctorEr 13, 1915, AT THE PLAY. “ RoMANCR.” Ovr excellent American cousins have provided us with yet another sound loan—Miss Doris KEaneg, who presents herself in Romance, by Epwarpd SuEL- DON, as a naughty wayward prima donna, the Cavallini, known for short as The Golden Nightingale. I liked Miss Keane and her two chief lieu- | tenants a good deal better than the play, which began as a promising enough thing of its nice naive kind, and finally blew up in a racket of senti- | ment, with a lack of reticence which affected my spine uncomfortably. Are there not things appropriately said at | the revival meeting or in the confes- | sional or the cabinet particulier which are not quite suited to the stage ? Or is that only my confounded Kinglish stodginess ? Well, Miss Doris KraneE has what (if only our pretty young actresses and their admirers knew it!) is the heart of the matter— personality; with plenty of pleas- ant detail in “the unfolding of it —fire, and a pretty vivacity, a charming variety of moods, from gaiety to passion, while she uses gesture with a fair semblance of Latin fervour and precision. As to the play, a prologue shows us a dear old bishop (none other than our Mr. Nargs, the dominant stage beau and hero of our day) giving advice to his grandson, who proposes the unheard of un- wisdom of marrying an actress. He sets out to tell the love-lorn youth the story of his own early broken romance. So from this prologue we step back into three Acts set in the New York of the sixties, when the bishop is the young, hand- some, and, if anything, over-zealous Rector of St. Giles. Comes the Cavallini to the house of a rich debonnair banker, Van Tuyl (Mr. A. E. Anson, a fine figure in re- splendent clothes, the authenticity of which for the place and period 1 am inclined to doubt). The singer has Van Tuyl’s mistress; but the charming friendship in its wake (I think that’s the idea), and certainly Van Tuyl is a good sportsman. The young Rector, struck all of a heap by the Nightingale, pursues her in a way calcu- lated to cause considerable comment in a quiet parish. The Cavallini, who has always been good as gold at heart, sees true love beckoning. But of course she must renounce—or, at least, confess. | So she confesses all but Van Tuyl, and it is just the rumours about Van Tuyl, | . = . . | that infuriate the Rector to the point of a most unsacerdotal violence. | ito say that this theme of the young padre’s self-deception, his misreading a very primitive jealousy as zeal for souls, |is a theme of promise. But, as I say, four author treats it with H.E. and | > + m ae a mT lreduces it to smoking ruins. The Rector, a little off his game it must be urged in extenuation by walking for hours in the snow in a thin overcoat, coming to save, remains to hurt, but is brought to his senses by the singer, who has learnt from him and Van Tuyl what real goodness is. The end is un- exceptionable—the way a little devious and not a little questionable in parts. It is a problem that may be com- mended to the curious as to how far the “movies” have influenced modern ! A PASTORAL VISIT. Mr. Owen Nares as the Rev. Thomas Armstrong. Miss Doris Keane as the Prima Donna Margherita Cavallini. American dramatic technique. That old convention of looking backwards has come to its own again under the new inspiration. An enormous rest- lessness and a passion for interesting but entirely irrelevant incident are signs of it. But the convenient cine- matographic method of switching off the players and switching on a short bald explanation of what has happened in the interval is denied to the dramatist, who must bridge his incidents by a longer (and in this instance, more tedious) method. Miss Doris KEAnr, Mr. OWEN NarEs, both as old bishop and young rector, Mr. Anson as the repentant banker, and Miss Ginpa VareEst in a clever sketgh of the Cavallini’s duenna, put in some exceedingly good work. I should go and see this for myself if I were you. I don’t think love and life are the least like that, though Romance inspired by the cinema may very well be. Nor do It isfair admitted such a dispirited or dyspeptic I think it wise of Miss KEANE to have monkey into her cast. Adelina indeed needs a course at Sir HERBERT’s School in the art of appropriate facial expression when being introduced to a gentleman | friend. . . . And whois the superseeds- man who produced those prodigious white violets of the second Act? T. WOMEN TO MEN. Gop bless you, lads ! All women cf the race, As forth you go, Wish you with steadfast face The best they know. God cheer you, lads! Out in the bitter nights, Down the drear days, | Through the red reeking fights And wasted ways. God bring you, lads, 3ack to the motherland, True laurels gained, Glory in either hand, Honour unstained. Women of Britain’s race, As forth you go, Wish you with proud glad face The best they know: God bless you, lads ! A Bare Living. ‘* Yesterday it became known that a curious hitch had occurred in connection with the filling of the Vicar of Renwick. | The living has been twice refused.’’ Edinburgh Evening Dispatch. No wonder if it could not even provide sustenance for the in- cumbent. One of Our Masters. ‘* LaBpourRER.—T. Hansford, Park Cottage, Beaulieu, THANKS 47 GENTLEMEN and begs to say he is surrep.’’— Western Gazette. An Accommodating Animal. Notice in a tea-shop :— ‘* Milk and soda-water fresh from the cow. 1d. per glass.”’ ‘*In Champagne a German exploded to the north-west of Perthes without doing any im- portant damage.’’—Provincial Paper. Perhaps he was not fully loaded. From a catalogue of second-hand | books :— ‘© On the Conversation of Energy, by Balfour Stewart, M.A., LL.D., F.R.S., with 14 illus- trations, 1874.”’ Considering the scope of the subject fourteen illustrations are a scanty allow- ance. But we dare say the bookseller added another when he talked to his printer.

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Vv. THE TOP HAT: WHAT WILL IT BECOME? (It is thought that after the War the Top Hat will finally disappear from the head of man.] al i Sey ate | Ling en, Sel) A SSHIES A PENNY ALL THE Fun OF THE FAIR OR WILL THE PATRIOTIC OWNERS PLACE THEM AT THE SERVICE OF SOME OF THE HomME DEFENCE VOLUNTEERS TO BE USED AS TARGETS? THEIR RESEMBLANCE TO THE PERISCOPE OF A SUBMARINE WOULD MAKE THIS ENDING A SUITABLE ONE. the Cj, = Zee Ci Ti. er se = awe = 2S Wes rae PROBABLY SOME CITY MEN WILL NOT BE ABLE TO PART SoME NO DOUBT WILL BE CHERISHED AND PRESERVED IN COMPLETELY FROM SUCH AN OLD FRIEND. THE MUSEUM OF THE FAMILY, Ocrover 13, 1915. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 317

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318 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Ocroner 13, 1915, 1 ‘ ; : \to be achieved, if he felt in the mood. THINGS HE MIGHT DO. | Mr. Winston CHURCHILL'S astonish- ing rise to fame within the short space of three months is the cause of quite a social sensation. It seems that one summer day, Mr. Cuurcuitn, having nothing par- ticular to do, was strolling among the | shops, when in the window of one of them a lot of little tubes and brushes | and things caught his eye. ‘“ What! are those things for?” he asked the | shopman. “For painting pictures | with,” was the reply. “Then I will | take them,” said Mr. CourcHIL1, decid- ing there and then that he would be) a painter of pictures. In three months, so the papers tell us, he has become an accomplished | artist, and he is likely to be an ex- | hibitor at the Autumn exhibition at one of the galleries. The only regret we have in connec- tion with this new activity on the part of our great statesman is that he may find it necessary to enlarge that hat for which he is so famous, and to adopt «a change in the shape of collar he wears. But what is to be done with the rest of Mr. Cuurcuiu’s time? He has become an artist in three months. What is he to do during the next three months ? May we suggest the flute? It is quite a nice instrument, and not too difficult. One can get twelve lessons for two guineas; and when time is an object the twelve lessons can be had on the same day, leaving a good period for practice. If Mr. Caurcwitn would only adopt this suggestion, we might have the pleasure of listening to him play the old year out and the new year in at one of our fashionable restaurants | at the end of 1915. Three months, however, is but a small part of a man’s life, and having | conquered the flute, Mr. CaurcHinu will be at a loose end once more) next New Year's Day. For January, February and March we suggest either | conjuring or poetry. We do not pre- | tend to any knowledge as to which | Mr. Caurcuity would most like to be, | a conjurer or a poet. As the father of | a young family, it may be that to pro- | duce a couple of rabbits from a bottle | of ink would appear to be a more desir- | able feat than finding new rhymes to | old words. We must leave the choice to Mr. Cuurcuinu, but, whichever he’ prefers to take up first, we hope he will | not reject the other. | Thus we come to the end of June, | 1916. There would remain to the CHANCELLOR OF THE Ducny or Lay-| CASTER a variety of accomplishments , Singing, weight-lifting and balancing, fretwork, preaching, surgery, short- hand and typewriting—yes, there are plenty of things he could take up to provide him with that useful oceupa- tion which is so desirable for every one of us. And who knows that in one of these activities Mr. Caurcnini will not find his true life-work ? A DAUGHTER OF FRANCE. “Huuxo, Arkwright, what is it?” The Captain spoke rather querulously to the Subaltern who had awakened him. “Two bomb-dropping Taubes have been over, Sir, flying pretty low. Archie—I mean Anti-aircrafts—failed to drive them off, and I rather think they have spotted us.” The Captain swung his legs from the couch and sat up. ‘“ D——n!” he ejaculated wearily. ‘‘ What infernal luck !”’ The | Twice within the week enemy aero- | planes had got over his position, and | twice had the heavy howitzers to be moved elsewhere. “Right-O!” He shook the sleep out of himself. ‘I'll be out in a jiffy. If they have spotted us they ‘ll send a battery aeroplane over first thing to- morrow, and that will fly about 10,000, and just mark off the range of the orchard. Go and telephone the observ- ing officer that we’re clearing out again. I’m not going to risk anything.” The Subaltern disappeared and the Captain reached for his boots. The room in which he had been resting was at the back of a farmhouse, and looked out into a small orchard where the two | | apples, broken timber and the mangled ‘*Mothers’’ were well screened under the apple-trees. They had arrived thirty-six hours previously in the dark of night, and the following day had been spent busily in getting them registered on a target by means of abstruse calculation and an aeroplane. A good observation post had been found (not an easy matter) and five miles of telephone wire laid. Major, who was with the rest of the battery, had appropriated all the new wire, the latter job was no sinecure and bred a good deal of blasphemy. Also arrangements for billeting with Madame Bontout had been gone into thoroughly—no light matter either, and now it was all rendered useless. The Captain swore a few private and intelli- gent oaths as he hauled on his boots. From the back door to the ever- present midden was but a step. The Captain, thinking of other matters, took it ankle deep with both feet. Round the corner a Sergeant appeared, As the | | sure of it. and the monologue became a duologue as the Captain proceeded to issue his instructions. “ Jack,” said Gunner Slade to Gunner McCarthy after the Sergeant had passed on the orders of the day, “ we ain’t bin trained properly, we ain’t. We ort ter ‘ave bin brort up in a furnicher- remoyvin’ busniss, we ort.” ... In the twilight the two howitzers, attended by their caterpillars, removed themselves to other quarters. “ Au revoir et bon voyage, mon Lrave Capitaine,” Madame Bontout smiled and nodded. ‘ Nous nous reverrons, n'est-ce pas?” * Oui,oui,” replied the brave Captain, wrestling with a Woolwich accent, “* yespere . nous allons un peu dis- tance. Au revoir.’ And, having done his utmost, he fled. Next morning, when the night mist had thinned away, Lieutenant Ark- wright, R.G.A., was made aware that the Huns were getting in a bit of hate about half-a-mile distant on his left flank. He picked up his glasses to locate their target, but could not make ‘T do believe,” he muttered to himself, “that the blighters are crumping that last position of ours.” He confided his views to the Captain, who, later in day, when the Bosches had settled down for a quiet afternoon, walked over to see what had happened. When he arrived there was nothing to see: that is, nothing in the nature of a farmhouse. The farm, the house and the orchard had vanished. There were half-buried blocks of masonry and trees sticking ridiculously root upwards from shell craters; there were pieces of furniture lying about, mixed up with bricks, remains of animals. That was all. That and a woman who sat upon the remnant of a shattered wall. She did not seem to see or hear the Captain until he touched her lightly on the shoulder. Then she turned, and he saw that she had suddenly become very old. ‘‘Madame Bontout,” he said quietly, and then, not knowing what else to say, he was silent. But she understood. “Yes,” she whispered slowly, “the good God has so willed it, but ’—and | into her voice crept the unconquerable | spirit of her race—‘they did not get the guns—they did not get the guns.” Masters of Modern Prose. ** According to Dr. George Evans that was the name of the fair-haired man whom I had seen saying how easy it was to use a snake as | an instrument of murder while crossing on the boat from Ryde to Portsmouth.”’ The Story-Teller.

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ogue | | » his nnel issed t bin ort her- zers, oved rave | niled rons, tain, | cent, dis- | done mist Ark- that | hate | left | s to nake ered LB : re JG Z ‘ ‘fs oP re 2 _ Z = ee ches ae | Bored Sentry. ‘‘CoME ALONG! ’*’URRY UP AND TAKE A TURN AT WATCHIN’ THIS BLOOMIN’ TURNIP.”’ ned. | : — hing recreative reading laced with thought and ‘fringed with re of OUR BOOKING-OFFICE, imagination miss this book. 4“ 7 (By Mr. Punch’s Staff of Learned Clerks.) hard THERE ’s something all but heroic in the way H.G. WELLS ee = ieee ta ried | returns to his fine preoccupation with the theme of the Miss Lambourne was an heiress who king | confounded muddle and waste of our good round world in Disdained a wealthy suitor, shell \its bad square hole. Here in The Research Magnificent One Waverton, Whose blood — blue, | ture (MacMILLAN) you have Benham, a young nobody in par- (I couldn't stand him. Nor will you), icks, ticular, but wealthy and reflective, obsessed with the great And wed the latter's tutor, : gled | idea that it must be someone’s high job to put the whole An odd young man named Harry Boyce : all. mournful business right. He envisages a loose committee The county marvelled at her choice. | the || | of aristoi (the samurai of his Modern Utopia in a new guise), At first their happiness was great, > did | dedicate, trained and courageous, of which he shall be the And life proceeded gaily ; tain | first. So he sets out upon his quest magnificent to study and But in a year, I grieve to state, | the observe. Passion and romance lasso” him by the way, Eiew ceseune tial Guctiell tele Rewe te trate. | | he | and he fights clear only at the cost of much suffering to (These chapters H. C. BAILEY ome | others. One may reasonably distrust heroics of the Has written with a forceful pen ; far horizon which ignore plain duties of the foreground. The publisher is METHUEN). etly, | And yet Benham, driven, at the last a blundering megalo- e to | maniac, from continent to continent in search of ‘“ data,” is The scenes are laid in days gone by, no contemptible if a pathetically futile figure. And then The days of the PRETENDER, 7 there’s Prothero, the candid fleshly don, and Benham’s When Mar.eorovuGu’s power still was high, ‘the | | brilliant fluttering mother. ... And Amanda, a queer And good QurEN ANNE had yet to die; and | cross between Diana and her quarry. ... Mr. WELLSs’s The plot is rather slender, | ‘able |own grand tour has no doubt given precision and But Mr. Bartey has no peer vet | | conviction to his vivid descriptions of places and the spirit (Or few) in handling atmosphere. s.” | | | of places. I suppose him never actually to have met a | tiger in the Indian jungle by night; yet, when you read of He has the knack of saying * Lud!” | Benham, unarmed and fearful but controlled, putting to And “ La!” “ Egad!” and “ Burn it!” twas! | | flight that sinister striped brute in the haunted dark, and The Highwayman’s a perfect flood [ had | all the convincing detail that precedes it, you feel that only Of “Stap me’s.” Faith, it stirs the blood! | ke as | aman who had actually done these things could tell them Where did the fellow learn it ? dings: |so. I can’t recall a better piece of work of its kind in two Myself (odds fish!) 1’d rather swing ™ | decades of English fiction. . . . Let no one who likes his Than have to write that sort of thing.

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320 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL [Octroper 13, 1915, Well, in the end it all comes right, For Mrs. Boyce repented When down Long Acre way one night Harry was wounded in a fight ; And now they ’re both contented, Meaning to bear with no more strife The give and take of married life. If it can be reckoned my duty to create an atmosphere suggestive of the book I am to talk about and the period with which it is concerned, the author—he signs himself Asuton Hinirers—has kindly supplied me with a recipe in which he places infinite reliance. It all lies in the little word “ ye.”” Nothing else is required to convert the language of the modern daily Press into that of the black- guards, and of course the gentlemen, of the Prince REGENT’s Court. Suppose ye try how ye like it. That ye will find something to approve in the book itself is assured because, ranging as it does from such favourite old topics of the author’s as the Society of Friends and forgiveness of one’s | enemies to despatch riding for WELLINGTON and comic opera at the Horse Guards, Demi-Royal (MrTHUEN) includes variety to suit all tastes. _ Not indeed that the | writer is always equally at home. He would, I imagine, be the first | to admit that in the detailing of) lively adventure he does not easily catch that gallantry of movement | and conviction that must come easily to come at all; if pressed harder than I, his sincere admirer, could wish, he might even confess to having condescended to make a convenience of those supposed gaps in his hero’s manuseript which now and then do most certainly seem to omit what should have been a thrill, rather than to bridge a threatened dulness; but in the long run, and particularly in those later chapters where Georgie com- pletes her transformation from a lumpish German boy to a glorious ete Princess of the Blood, he too comes to his own, which is no mean thing. And so, notwithstanding his habit of reproducing details, big and little, that he has given us before, or his abominable misuse of comments in brackets, I shall advise ye all to read him. PEOPLE THE YOUNG MAN THE ARMY BECAUSE WHO AGyes and Ecerton Castie, forsaking the eighteenth century, have now turned their attention to the infinitely more thrilling twentieth. The Hope of the House (CASSELL) is a story of the modernest of modern times. A very pretty story too—which you can take, according to your taste, as a compliment or not. It really divides itself into two parts. The first—and better, because the more moving and convine- ing—tells how David, the elder of the two Owen brothers, determines to endure a struggle with poverty in order to keep the old home and pass it on to young John. This episode, the success of David's effort and its tragic frustra- tion with the death of John in the early days of the War, is sincere and strong. I liked less the subsequent develop- ments, in spite of some pleasant comedy in the treatment of Lady Celia’s relations with the two placid and eminently worldly guests whom she calls “‘ my poor Belgians.’ There WE NEVER MEET. HE LACKS PLUCK, is a third refugee of a different stamp, Vivianne, whom David at very short notice falls in love with and marries. After the ceremony however he is going to understand that she is his wife “in name alone.” Much have I travelled in the realms of fiction, yet saw I never a matrimonial difficulty of this kind that did not collapse in the last chapter. So that, even when a former lover turned up to claim her, I | Was never seriously anxious about the ultimate destination of Vivianne (indeed for that matter, if the authors wanted |to withhold information about their climax, they should certainly have censored the picture on the cover). So it remains just a pretty story, with some pleasant wit and a deal of sentiment: a very restful mixture. The infinite variety of Mr. W. E. Norris remains a thing to wonder at. Age and custom seem to have no chance against him. I notice that on the title-page of his latest novel, Troubled Tranton (Con- STABLE), he is described as author of three others, after which the publishers fall back upon the refuge of “ete., etc.” Perhaps if they printed the names of all Mr. | Norrts’s former stories there would 'be no room for the present one; | which I should have regretted, for Troubled Tranton is an admirable jentertainment in its quiet way. |Tranton was a house, and its troubles rose from the fact that the late owner, in defiance of justice and expectation, had left it, /not to his own nephew and heir- | presumptive, but to his niece-in- law, one Mrs. Lynden, a charming widow, who didn’t want it. So Nicholas Alder, who should have |had the house, refused all the /usurper’s offers of friendship and ‘even restitution. Moreover, poor inoffensive Mrs. Lynden began to ibe agitated by the arrival of abusive and anonymous letters, threatening her with all sorts of penalties if she remained as mis- tress of Tranton. Naturally the Be _ district, and all those nice neigh- bourly people who abound in Mr. Norris’s books, were greatly concerned by this; more especially when the un- known enemy set fire to Mrs. Lynden’s summer-house, and even kidnapped the daughter of a local magnate who had been active in her defence. As to who the troubler really was, that in common fairness I must leave for Mr. Norris to explain; possibly you will not have read very far before penetrating the secret, which of course will only add to your pleasure on finding in the last chapter that your sagacity was not at fault. One captious question. Even in these unhampered days, would Sir Augustus have allowed his niece to journey unattended to London in order to interview a wholly unknown man about the purchase of a hunter? I can’t help thinking that she went more to help Mr. Norris with the plot than for reasons of proba- bility. SAYS HE HAS NOT JOINED War Prices. ‘« Special terms for Commercial Gentlemen only, Tea Bread and Breakfast, 5/6.’’—Hotel Advt. Apparently the weary traveller is expected to sleep on the sofa in the coffee-room.

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r, I tion nted ould iO it ond a ling unce test JON- thor the fuge they Mr. ould me; , for able vay. its that . of it it, 1eir- 3-in- ning So lave the and poor n to of ters, Ss of mis- the igh- were -un- and had sally RRIS fore d to your Sven ywed r to se of e to oba- 1 and | 1 the | | chastened spirit in Ger- | Washington, | People’s Theatre, Berlin. A OctToBEeR 20, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAR IVARI. 321 CHARIVARIA. THE Germans are still faithful to their national poet, SHAKSPEARE. Max REINHARDT has just produced The Tempest on a monumental scale at the modern touch was imparted to the play by the actor who was cast for Ferdinand being called upon at the last moment to appear as Calihan. In a recent article in The Daily Telegraph, Dr. KEK. J. Ditton wrote that ‘King Ferdinand’s hatred of Russia is as strong as his contempt for the Bulgarian politicians, whom he moves backwards and forwards like pawns on the political chessboard.” This unorthodox treatment of the pawns furnishes a further proof that Kine FERDINAND does not play the game. There are signs of a D many. The IMPERIAL CHANCELLOR recently told an American journalist that “we cannot admit that the English are on an equality with us intellectu- ally or morally”; and the Hamburger Nachrichten has refused to accept as authentic a telegram from * although it disseminated — by Wo.trr’s Bureau.” is The London County Council have set an exam- ple of economy to other public bodies by suspend- Mistress. Nursemaid ‘* Wuy? Nursemaid. CAN’T GET "IM NEAR ONE.’’ We indebted to a number of correspondents who have sent us a paragraph from The Daily Mirror stating that Miss Exnuanine TErriss ‘hopes to raise £250,000 for the benefit of our blind and disabled soldiers by selling a million badges at 1s. each.” We are informed that the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER has asked for an interview with the accomplished lady to find out how she proposes to do it. are The current complaint that the Cabinet is too large for the efficient transaction of business has not been entirely fruitless. Last week, one dis- tinguished Minister spent some hours in the smoking-room of the House of well known, persons who have some- thing wrong with their feet, ought to be handed over for treatment to a cheerupadist. The good people of Nairobi, East Africa, were dreadfully disappointed when the last English mail arrived, and they learnt that we were not yet through the Dardanelles. Their local paper had informed them that the Montenegrin army was on the out- skirts of Scutari, and that Scutari was “a town on the Bosphorus opposite Constantinople.” In the account of an officer being robbed by the Germans as he lay Commons while his colleagues were wounded between the opposing trenches ‘*T’M GOIN’ TO LEAVE THIS PLACE, MumM.”’ Don’T YOU LIKE THE CHILD?”’ ‘*O yes, Mum. But ’E’sS THAT AFRAID OF | ing all prizes for school-children until discussing important matters in the the War is over. A saving of £10,000 a year will thus be effected, and there will be no need to curtail the salary of M.P.s. , A Boer Predikant is reported in the South African papers as saying that “God trusted General Hertzog in the dark, but could not trust Englishmen in the dark, and that was why He caused the sun never to set on the British.” We infer that the reverend gentleman has not recently been in London. The Daily Mail asks, ‘Have we a Foreign Oftice?”” We understand that a search-party is going carefully through Carmelite House. - It cannot be true that Lord Nortn- CLIFFE is a time-server. You can buy his “6.30 News” at about 5 p.m, VOL. CXLIX, PrimE MINISTER’S room; and it is rumoured that Mr. AseuitH would be glad to see this example extensively followed. An officer at the Front writes :—‘ A new battery which had moved behind our trenches started registering the German trenches one afternoon. The first shell however landed on our own parapet, where a sergeant and some of my men were working. As it hap- pened the shell did not burst and no one was damaged, but a large hole was knocked in the parapet. The sergeant, nothing amazed, just walked up to me and said, ‘ Please, Sir, would you mind ‘phoning through to the battery and asking them to cease fire while I repair the parapet?’” , . A person who ought to know better suggests that pessimists, being, as is R it is stated that some years ago he was the tallest man in the Indian Army. And after the Germans had been through his pockets he was one of the shortest. The well-known artist who advertised, the other day, his desire that gen- tle people having pretty children would allow him to paint a pretty child, is in treaty for the Albert Hall as a studio. as In conversation with a Socialist Deputy of the Reichstag the KaAIsER is said to have remarked, “with tears in his eyes,” that he was sincerely sorry for France—France, which was “the greatest disappointment of his life.” If the Walrus had been bitten by one of the Oysters he would have felt just like that. A SOLDIER I ‘When replying to Advertisements, kindly mention ‘ The Watford Newsfetter.’ ’’ It is the Censor’s favourite organ. ‘‘In the trenches near the observation station we met the general, who remarked: ‘Nous sommes on train de la marmiter’ (They have been annoying us).”’ Lloyd’s Weekly News. We find the translation rather free and prefer the closer rendering—‘ We are about to pot her” (meaning, no doubt, a Black Maria). ‘*The collection of Mr. Lloyd George’s war speeches . . . contains, of course, the famous preface which so much disturbed the political atmosphere the other day. The interest of that is fleeting if violet.” Manchester Guardian. One of Mr. GrorGer’s “ purple patches,” in fact. to see them, as he wished |

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322 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. TO FERDINAND, ON HIS PROSPECTS. Between the Turk, your country’s ancient foe, Whose butchers drank her blood like steaming wassail, And him of Potsdam, who, if matters go Smoothly, will have you as his humble vassal, You are the tertium quid, O FrrpiInanp, which Conspires to make a most repulsive sandwich. Here stands the Moslem with his brutal sword Still red and reeking with Armenia’s slaughter ; Here, fresh from Belgium’s wastes, the Christian Lord, His heart unsated by the wrongs he wrought her ; And you between them, on your brother’s track, Sworn, for a bribe, to stick him in the back. Yet, spite of such a fellowship, your fate Won't be a steady round of beer and skittles ; Old friends are best; and love that turns to hate Is certain to acidulate your victuals ; For Russia, whence your land her freedom drew, Will show that she who made can break you too. And not alone that bright blade, hung o’erhead, Shall dull your cheer and poison all you swal'ow ; Uneasy sits the alien King who’s wed To schemes his patriot folk are loath to follow; So next your skin (for flannel won’t avail) You'd better wear a steel-proof shirt of mail. O. 8. DIVERSIONS OF THE CABINET. We all know how Mr. Wiyston CuurcuHiu walked into « colourman’s shop, three months ago, and purchased a manual upon Pictures and How to Paint them ; and how already he has produced a number of “large and dignitied- landscapes,” and is at work upon a “stately portrait of his wife.” But it is not by any means so generally known —it may have been withheld by the Press Bureau—that this sort of thing is going on all over the Cabinet. I had a talk yesterday, writes our representative, with a stall-holder at a forthcoming bazaar who was most enthusiastic about Mr. Bonar Law’s poker-work. “The work is so realistic that you can almost smell the singe,” she said, ‘and there is an enormous quantity of it. His industry is amazing. The unexpected adjournment of the House for a week over the Finance Bill meant the addition of three corner cupboards, a tea-tray and a small bedroom bookcase to my supply. His work is always unsigned. He picked it up, it seems, in a moment from an article on Parlour Crafts in a magazine.” There is no busier man in the country at present than the Minister oF Mentions, and it will probably come as a surprise to his many admirers to learn that he contrives to find time to pursue his new hobby of Ecclesiastical Architecture. Visitors to Criccieth in the near future would do well to keep their eyes open for a rich example of Neo- Methodist-Gothie opposite the railway station, which has caused something of a flutter in the R.I.B.A. Mr. GeorGr apparently picked up the guiding principles of the art in conversation with an intelligent steel roller on the Clyde. New distinctions would seem to be in store for Sir F. E. Smirxn, “I had a talk with his publisher,” writes our representative, “one day last week, and he told me much that 1 feel bound to suppress in the public interest. But it is an open secret that a gigantic Book of Sonnets is already in the press which will give reviewers much food for thought. The story that Sir Freperick had picked up a manual entitled How to be a Poet is quite untrue. He was deep in singular coincidence. Fighting was going on in the neigh- bourhood of Dwinsk, Pinsk and Minsk. Although he had never before dreamt of writing verses the opportunity thus presented seemed altogether too gocd to miss, and as scon as he had made a beginning the rest was plain sailing. |The wonderful thing,’ added his publisher, ‘is that he scans so well. One frequently comes upon several lines in succession with hardly a feot out of place.’ ” Mr. Runciman has just completed a set of 117 orchestral variations on the Montenegrin National Anthem. EVADING THE CENSOR. “ Dick has got his marching orders at last—off on Satur- day,” said Eileen. ‘ Now I want you to find some way for him to let me know his whereabouts without being stopped | by that horrid Censor.” “This,” I said, “is a matter for reflection. What you ‘want is some quaint and rare device which will not only dupe the Censor but can be guaranteed to furnish no information tothe enemy. Imagire the excitement of the [Octorer 20, 1915, Ober-Offizier who intercepted a letter informing him that | Lieutenant Richard Donkin was at ——. ‘Here’s most important news,’ he would say. ‘Himmel! Lieutenant Donkin at ! Schnell! order up three extra army corps at once!’ . . . No, Eileen, we must avoid that possibility at all costs.” As it happened I lunched with a man the next day who had encountered exactly the same problem. His son had arranged a cryptogram, using the first letter of every fourth word to spell out the name of his whereabouts. « And does it answer?” I said. “ Not very well. It was all right at first, when he was at the base, but as soon as he moved on there came through a string of highly improbable names which we couldn't find in any map on the market. The last one was ‘ Yttgau,’ | which suggests that he lost count, or else he’d been un- expectedly transferred to Russia.” Anyway Dick wouldn’t hear of the plan. He said it would cramp his style. So I gave deep thought to the matter and at last conceived the perfect plan. “What you and Dick must do,” I said, “is to have | duplicate maps. You must then agree upon two main towns, say Paris and Brussels, as bases. When Dick has finished his letter he places it over the map (letters from the Front are always written on flimsy semi-transparent | paper), sticks a pin through Paris and Brussels, and a third pin in his own locality. Then when the letter arrives all you have to do is to pin the two fixed holes over Paris | and Brussels in your map, and the third hole gives you Dick’s whereabouts. with a few pinholes in it tells the Bosches nothing.” Well, Dick agreed to this, and soon after he left we received a letter with perforations indicating that he was in ——, a well-known town in Northern France which is familiar to all our readers. Then he moved cn to ——, and there he stuck for several weeks ; or at least, if Eileen’s pinpricks were to be trusted, he fluttered round in a sort of jaunty spiral. And then at last there came a hint that he was approaching the firing-line. A few days afterwards I found Eileen inspecting a letter with furrowed brows. Its appearance was most singular—simply riddled with pin-holes ; rather like a target on our miniature range when I’m in my true form. It is also obvious that a mere letter | “ Wait a minute,” I said, “there’s something on the other side.” There was a hastily pencilled line of unfamiliar hand- writing. It ran as follows: ‘The Censor is not such a study of the map one day when he was struck by a very fool as you seem to think!”

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Ocrosrr 20, 1915. gh- | had | | hus | Con | | NYU Sey ify PLP J YY ‘49 d Y OR) Y GY HG Yi Wii L4H ng. he 5 in tral ur- for ped you | nly no | ' ) the ' ni ‘ ‘ 4 orth hat : 4 + SPY, ost = : ant } rps ity ‘ho ad rth AS \ \ \ REALIZATION. a [When I went to Bulgaria I resolved that if there were to be any assassinations I would be on the side of the assassins.’’—Statement by FERDINAND.

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OCTOBER 20, 1915.] PUNC a) i + 1e) Wife. ‘‘GRAND NEWS THIS MORNING, H, OR THE DEAR. WE'VE Pessimist. ‘‘THEY’RE SURE TO ESCAPE.”’ MUNITIONS. A CHANTEY. Ix days of old, so runs the tale, Where Etna smoked on high The god Hephstus did prevail To hammer the shield and the Grecian mail For the Trojan lance to try ; So now sing we how arms are made With hammer and flame and forge By the folk who follow Hephstus’ trade To the glory of good Kina GrorGe. Right wisdom old Hephestus knew In Sicily’s golden land ; He turned and said to his Cyclops crew, “The front o’ the fighting ’s none for you, Stick to the work in hand. And a rattling work it is,” cried he, “With hammer and flame and forge.” | Hephestus said it, and so say we To the glory of good Kina GrorGe. Then cheer for Tyne and Thames and Clyde And the furnace blasts that roar That our good ships may safely ride, Our guns have plenty and more beside As never they had before ; For shell and bullet and hand-grenade,| works of SHAKSPEARE, which he has | For hammer and flame and forge, And the folk who follow Hephaestus’ trade To the glory of good Kina GEorGeE. TREASURE TROVE THE TIN. AccorpinG to The Daily Chronicle of the 14th inst., a Hull soldier, recently returned wounded from the Dardanelles, had occasion to open a tin of salmon, and to his surprise found inside a gentleman’s silver watch in good con- dition. He immediately wound it up, and it started ticking merrily. FROM Had this been an isolated case, some incredulity might have been pardoned. But, as a correspondent has hastened to assure us, other similar experiences have of late, showing the remarkable generosity of tinned food manufacturers and their genial desire to the happiness of the consumer, Mr. Pulling - Legge, a well-known bath-chair proprietor at Sideup, had to open a tin His surprise may well be imagined when he discovered inside the tin a rare quarto edition of the occurred promote recently occasion of sardines. LONDON CHARIVARL Sa ry y= Wik 7 ¢ — ' uv tf A; = a) TAKEN SEVERAL THOUSAND PRISONERS.”’ since presented to Sir Sipney Lee. Hardly less remarkable was the ex- perience of Mrs. Hardy Phibster, the wife of the postmaster at Deochandoris, near Cromarty, who was helping her family to some Californian peaches, and to her profound amazement found at the bottom of the tin a small musical-box, which at once began to play “Tipperary.” The matter is re- ceiving the attention of the local medical authorities. A correspondent suggests that the “Suburban Gentleman’ whose woes were depicted in a recent issue should change the name of his house from ‘‘Sans Souci ”’ to “Sans Six Sous.” A Mixed Litter. ‘‘Mme. Dumba, who accompanied the Ambassador, boarded the liner carrying a canary and a puppy born last night to her English spaniel.’’—Glasgow Herald ‘ Lieutenant-Colonel Druitt states that the cause of the imperfect signal being given was no doubt owing to the wife « starting signal at Crossmyloof being too tight causing the semaphore arm to droop.’ Evening Times (Gl Somebody or something seems to have hed a drop too mucna,

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326 PUNC H, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. [Ocroner 20, 1915, TO GET THE MEN. THE great conscriptionist controversy is entering upon a new phase. The burning question of the moment would appear to be whether the necessary men are to be compelled to volunteer | or persuaded to be compulsorily en- rolled. Both points of view are ex- plained by a couple of letters which have just reached this office. We suspect that they were really intended for The Manchester Guardian, but as | they have come into our hands we hasten to give them publicity. Dear Str,—Whatever Lord Kitcu- ENER may have said to the Labour Le.ders—that is perhaps a sore subject and I don’t propose to deal with it— we are all agreed that our army must be kept up to full strength 7 till the War is over. But | it is clearly ridiculous and | altogether inane to suppose | that the men cannot be got in overwhelming numbers by the Voluntary System (to which I take off my hat). It is byno means exhausted. Indeed it has only begun to work. We want no | pressed men. We want | nothing but men whose | heart is in the job and who have freely and spontane- ously come forward, clam- ouring to offer themselves as recruits. And they can be got. Let there be no taint of compulsion in our methods, no encroachment on individual liberty. All that is necessary is to give new opportunities of enrol- ment to our willing masses. Now that the National Register is com- plete we have all the facts before us, and the authorities can get to work along rational lines. It is quite a mistake to suppose that there are any shirkers or shrinkers or skulkers | among us. Eligible men have only to be firmly and tactfully approached to fall over each other in their eagerness to come forward. The best method of | procedure would be the following : Let every eligible man receive a brusque summons in the name of the KinG to present himself without delay. If that doesn’t work, a close house-to- house canvass should follow, in which every man of army age should be narrowly cross-examined and badgered and asked to give a full account of himself. (A policeman should be kept in the baeckground—perhaps waiting in the street outside). If the results are still disappointing, all those who have not responded must be called Stee nr BAY or slackers HIGHLY COMMENDABLE TO DEAL WITH A VERY DIFFICULT QUESTION OF MILITARY ETIQUETTE. before a tribunal, presided over by the local recruiting authority, to state their If they still persist in getting case. out of it, other tactful methods of persuasion could very easily be devised. The voluntary systern would be by no means exhausted even then. A re- cruiting poster might be stuck on their |front-doors and garden gates. As a further step the municipal water supply might be cut off from the house or even ‘from the whole street (which would insure pressure being brought to bear). Finally the obstinate should be dis- | franchised and confronted with an extra | shilling on the income-tax. If we are assured that conscription is necessary we are ready to shoulder ; the burden. But the possibilities of ithe Voluntary System must be first EFFORT ON THE PART OF exhausted. chance. It must be given a fair I am, Dear Sir, Yours faithfully, ANTI-MILITARIST. Dear Sir,—We are all agreed that the army must be kept at full strength during the coming year. And it is now perfectly clear to the most fatuous observer that the so-called voluntary system has brokendown. Only by Con- scription can we secure the necessary men in regular drafts as they are wanted. From the moment when the new system is introduced the War will be as good as won. Everything will change in a twinkling; Germany will crack up. The British conseript will strike terror wherever he There need be no apprehension as to difficulties at home. The term Conscription must not be misunderstood. There will of course be exemptions. I should suggest, for }the smooth working of the plan, that the following should be exempt : goes. A NEW (1) All trade unionists. (2) The whole of Ireland. (3) Parts of Wales, England and Seotland—to be known as Exeinpted Areas. (4) All those who can satisfy the authorities that they have a strong and genuine bias toward civilian life. It is natural that we should prefer the voluntary system, but, as it is, compulsion is our only hope. I am, Dear Sir, Yours faithfully, Drastic. We have also received a pronounee- ment from a well-known novelist :— Dear Srr,—lIn one of those weekly articles of mine which throw a white light on the situation I pointed out a month or two ago that conscription ~ could do little to help us, for the simple reason that, having already raised an army of some 4,000,000 men (by voluntary effort), it would hardly be possible for us to spare another half-million. Again a week or two ago, in one of my many Last Words upon this question, I made it quite clear that would be of no avail, for the simple reason that, having already raised an army of some 2,300,000 men (by voluntary effort), enroll more than another half-million, There may be I am not always lucky with figures —although I thoroughly enjoy them. Anyhow it is the principle that counts. Roughly speaking there are no more men that can be raised by conscription. The same does not of course apply to the voluntary system. Finally, if Mr. AsquirH were to say to-morrow that compulsion was abso- lutely necessary to the safety of the realm, I would acquiesce. I would RECRUIT conscription | we could not with safety | some little discrepancy, but | really. And that would ensure the success of the new move. But Mr. | AsquitH will never say that. I know | all about it. Yours, War Expert. ‘*Simla, 15th September. ‘““The Hon. Mr. W. M. Hailey arrived at Viceregal Lodge to-day as the guest of His Excellency the Viceroy. The Hon. Mr. W. M. Hailey arrived at | Viceregal Lodge to-day as the guest of His Excellency the Viceroy.’’— Pioneer. We were quite prepared to believe * even the first time.

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: . — — ies be LONDON CHARIVARL 327 | | | und | ; ted | the | | und | | | | fer | is, | | ee “ } ce- hes * _ | = £ kly aie | a SECOND rime | lite | | Ca ion | us, at, an YOO rt), ble 1e1 ek | ny his | ite | } | on | for | => at, | = an | = 0) | : | { | - = } t), | | ke I rer | THE MAN WHO HAD SEEN A ZEPPELIN. be | A = _ — - Sa sae ene anaes ——_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_— . . le | There may be such ; but let him see With Cook’s fair fish-cakes, and they say I grumble "re | - Che way in which Gallipoli Quite in my ancient form. ed | | Affects young officers and moulds their morals, os eee } ’ ot | And blow me if he could! Therefore with joy I hie me back to-morrow ry | To Turks and centipedes and all the pain ; nA | What kindness, what self-sacrifice was present I do not deem, as some have done, ay In that most painful of Peninsulw, That, on the whole, it’s “‘ rather fun 0- If several of the eggs were tired, Life will be vile. But this shall ease my sorrow « | Or some drab services required ! I shall be good again. ld It was a joy to see how nice and pleasant he A Cambridge man could be. : . | The Art of Expansion. Ww With never a moan we munched the meanest ration, |.“ The Russki Invalid states that the chief units of the Russian T q P 7 e Baltic fleet are not in the Gulf of Riga, which is defended by lesser We that of late were full of pelf and pride ; . ” P “ies; rs ye" ‘ vessels and mines.’’—Otago Daily Times. ee BOS at ee privates erred ‘‘General Russky, now an invalid, states that the chief units of | (Though Sunpson said one shocking word), the Russian Balt‘c fleet are not in the Gulf of Riga, which lefended | And no one published, in pre-bellum fashion, by lesser vessels and mines.”"’—Dunedin Evening Star. | mm ° . * : . , . "W . ’ : . . . } | The state of his inside. We prefer The Star’s version, with its personal touch, at } lis Moreover, we were bent on being fully | it | The same sweet gentry, men of model mood, | In an appeal for workers to help in sorting out the lis When parted from the scenes of strife “pink forms,” The Aberdeen Evening Express says (If ever). We should laugh through life, ‘* As the work is done in pairs, it will be a case of bring their ‘ pall | it} . And never, by the bitterness of “ bully,” if possible.’’ } 1 “ . - : . ) 1 al | Complain about our food. But we hope the work is not quite so deadly as all that.

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328 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CH: AR IV AR T, ieeemnee R 20, 1915. ON THE SPY TRAIL AGAIN. You know Jimmy’s blood-hound, Faithful. Well, he has been right off German spies; you couldn't have tempted him with one not even if you had dangled it in front of his nose. Jimmy said it was the distemper, and made up some medicine to get him over it. After taking one dose Faithful got over the distemper all right; he |mergency or something like that. also got over a six-foot wall on the | Jimmy not so big as it was, because Jimmy used some of it to take a wasp’s nest. It is a very useful pill, because Jimmy | better, and told him he had some stuff showed me how you could mend broken | which would ease it at once if he painted ‘it on with a camel-hair brush. plates with it. Jimmy once cured a lady’s pug dog with a bit of it. The pug dog used to come and lie down in ay 1 ‘ : : says it’s for a case of a|the six-foot wall on the opposite side It’s|of the road. | Jimmy says the middle of a bed of tulips which | Jimmy’s mother had planted. It liked tulips. It was a very fat pug dog, and had trouble with its breath; Jimmy | said it was suffering from sleeping sick- other side of the road, through three | fields, across a churchyard, through the church door and up to the top of | ness and gave it a piece of the pill in the tower. There why. The church door was locked by the | about very freely, Jimmy says. You have | cured the sleeping sickness all right, time Jimmy arrived there. to get the keys from a man who sits | in a cottage close by having rheuma- | tism. his rheumatism he will always let you have the keys this once. Jimmy knows all about rheumatism, and he makes up an ointment for it out | of the grease he gets out of the boxes in the railway wagons. Jimmy says the Indians always use it, and if you gave some to an Esquimaux he would eat it in his ignorance, and it ’s because of the temperature. The last time Jimmy went up the church tower he couldn’t get any oint- ment from the railway wagons, so he had to make some up out of some castor oil his mother had got for him to go with a few crab apples he had | cure it. Jimmy says he likes putting! it if Jimmy would put it in some beer. | things into castor oil, because it serves | Jimmy got the medicine ; eaten. it right. The way you do it is to get some’ pretty. ingredients; but he won’t “let you| medicines ; he has a different colour | see him putting them in, because it/for each day of the week. wouldn't work properly if he did. Jimmy says you have to be very care- ’s more air on the, top of the tower, Jimmy says, that’s| was surprised at its own activity; If you take him something for | ful about the ingredients, because, if | you didn’t put the right ones in, it would cure something else that, per- haps, you hadn’t got, and you would feel very puzzled about it. 1 saw Jimmy put one thing in, though; was some stuff for making sheep dip that he found. Jimmy finds lots of things like that, and he always puts. them carefully away in a box he has got in the summer-house, and then when he has any spare time he makes up bottles of medicine and ointment and different sizes of pills. Jimmy has got one pill which he made over a year ago; it is a very good pill, much stronger than the ordinary ones. There are so many things in it that Jimmy had to put some cobbler’s wax in it to hold them together. Even then it often begins to rise up in parts, and you have to yooss it back into shape. | some meat. Jimmy says the pug dog it tried to get away from itself and ran It but it took all the curl out of the pug | dog’s tail. Jimmy can cure anything like that; you 'd be surprised. He cured a man of water on the knee one day. The man came to the back door and asked Jimmy if he would like to buy some mohair laces or what not. There was only Jimmy at home, and, when the man knew that, he told Jimmy not to be frightened. Jimmy wasn’t frightened. The man said he had water on the knee and that becr was a gcod thing for it, if Jimm'y would fetch him some. He showed Jimmy his knee. Jimmy says it didn’t look as if it had had much water on it. He told the man he had some medicine which would The man said he would take it was violet medicine and looked very Jimmy always colours his| | colour ‘ed Saturday is violet, and he does it with some copying ink. Jimmy says it is a very good medi- cine, because if you leave the cork in it blows it out in two days, and if you tie the cork down it bursts the bottle. |certain he was a German, or he would | |garden to show him the German, and He loc kel very happy, Jimmy asked the man if his knee felt The man looked surprised and laughed. |He said he had never heard that before; he said he never knew that camels used hair-brushes. Jimmy felt very glad the man had had the beer as well as the medicine, because he felt have known about a camel-hair brush. Jimmy says very soon the man began to have doubts, they kept flitting across his face; so Jimmy went quietly inside the house and locked the door so that he could watch the water going out of | bis knee without being in his way at | all. The man didn’t seem to notice Jimmy; he seemed to be thinking; he looked as if he had a stomachache, Jimmy says. Jimmy says he doesn’t know which reached the man’s knee first, the beer or the medicine, and he thinks it must have been a near thing | by the way he ran out of the garden and jumped over the gate. He forgot all about the mohair laces. Jimmy followed the man as well as he could. He found him at the chemist’s | shop quenching his thirst with mustard | and water. Jimmy says the chemist | had already sent for a policeman because | of the German which kept coming out of the man. Jimmy says the chemist had a happy afternoon ; he took Jimmy into his said he felt he could go on mixing mustard and water for him all day. Jimmy says the German looked very tame; you could have led him about | with a piece of cotton. | | Jimmy says the Indians use it when | they are training to run races, and besides curing water on the knee it will kill weeds on the garden path. The man drank the beer, but said le would have to have some more to take away the taste of the medicine. There was no more real beer; so Jimmy made some of lis own and put into a beer bottle he had found; it was the same kind of beer that he had once used wal staining a rabbit hutch. Jimmy says, when Faithful saw the | man he began baying like anything, until he happened to catch sight of the empty medicine bottle, and then, after wagging his tail, he went and sat down where he could have a good view of | Jimmy never charges anything for | his medicines, he is only too pleased to | let people have them who seem to want them. Commercial Candour. ‘For sate, rag and metal store ; profitable business guaranteed.”’ Glasgow Herali. mo more ‘* WANTED by experienced Teacher, examiner and performer, an appointment as visiting Prano Masten in high-glass ladies’ school.”’ Musical News. What the man wants is a Conserva- | toire. ‘It has been arranged to held combined arills of the Richmond, Putn rey, Kew, and Barnes Companies of the Special Constabulary on the second Sunday in each week.’’ Barnes and Mortlake Herald Even the strictest Sabbatarian cannot | object to this.

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at Lt LS lt ld | a holiday this year, but that the doctor " e , : was suffering from convalescence. Con- | valescence is a beastly thing to have; | OcToBER 20, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 329 OUR UNINTERNED. THAT SHE’S CHANGING HER NAME.”’ Mother (discreetly). ‘‘ My DEAR, Miss FINKELSTEIN HAS JUST BEEN TELLING ME Ingenuous Daughter. ‘‘Ou, I 1m sO GLAD. AND WHO—WHO IS THE HAPPY MAN?”’ MacWhirter didn’t know about my/about either. In the last Juniors’ THE RECRUITING OF POPPETT MINIMUS. Moruer told me she couldn’t afford said I had to go to the sea because I it’s Latin really for feeling tired and living off rice pudding. It’s not catch- ing; so Parsons, my greatest chum, who’s going in for the Church, was allowed up to see me. The doctor con- fided to my mother that I wanted rous- ing, and Parsons says I might have succumbed if it had not been for the | boy next door. When I was a bit better and able to look out of the window, the boy next | door, who is a Scout and has to do} one kind deed every day, called out, “Slacker!” It isn’t true, as I can’t join them before next term, but I was | too convalescent to explain through a} pane of glass. He is of a fiery nature with red hair, and, being Scotch, he can’t understand people fooling about and doing nothing. Parsons says that convalescence, but I was so mad that |] came down next day. I wanted |really to send Mac Whirter a challenge, |but Parsons told me that forgiveness was the highest of all virtues, and that anyhow I was too weak to fight a cat. So I said I would forgive MacWhirter till next term. Parsons, who is going in for the Church, wouldn’t hear of this, as he says it isn’t quite playing the game for chaps at home to fight among them- selves, and that I could easily wait till after the War. At the same time he reminded me how the doctor said I had to be roused and that MacWhirter had done it. He said it was really a merci- ful dispensation and that I ought to be | grateful to MacWhirter for saving my | life, I hadn't looked at it in this light. Parsons knows already a lot of theology, }and when he likes a thing he calls it a |merciful dispensation, and when he doesn’t it’s an unscrupulous decree. As he says, there’s no good grousing cricket match Parsons made forty not out in the first innings. He wasn’t a bit coxy about it, but said it was a merciful dispensation. In the second innings he was bowled by Loftus first ball, and he said it was an unscrupulous decree and that Loftus ought to have his head punched for bowling no-balls. Parsons has relatives at the seaside, so his holiday only cost his people his train ticket. As we are great chums his relations asked me too. Parsons’ mother said he had a weak chest, but Parsons confided to me in the train that he really had clergyman’s sore throat. That’s all nonsense, because you can’t get it till you are ordained. Parsons got very angry when I said this, as he says it attacks chaps who are going in for the Church as well. The last thing our people told us was to look after each other and do nothing but recruit. We did our best, but we couldn't get one single recruit. Recruiting at the seaside is a very tough job. Perhaps

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARI = AA ESS VARI. fOctroner 20, 1915. Wife of Officer (just starting for the Dardanelles). ‘‘ My HUSBAND’S GOT AN INFLATED WAISTCOAT.” Sympathetic Old Lady. ‘‘ Dear, DEAR, DEAR! I DO HOPE IT WON’T INVOLVE AN OPERATION.”’ all the chaps we saw were convalescers. | We tracked a lot of likely cases, some regular promenade nuts, but they were always escorted by a convoy of girls, who beat off our attack. I didn’t care for these fellows myself, but Parsons says they may be suffering from con- scientious anzmia or an indisposition which keeps them from fighting. You never can tell. One of our chaps in the Upper Sixth, who was the first to volunteer, was rejected for haricose veins, and he was simply furious about it and said there was no such disease. I sent in a report to headquarters signed by Parsons and myself. I got a letter by return from the mater be- | ginning, “ You silly little boys.” I had to show it to Parsons, and he was naturally hurt about it at first. He | said it was just the same with his | mater. He couldn’t get her out of the habit of speaking as if he was one of the Lower Form kids, though she knew he was to be promoted next term. He | said that “recruit” in the sense she used it in was slang really, and that he didn’t like ladies to use slang. He thought the rest of the letter about | the silly girls with white feathers, and | how wrong it is to judge other people, | | | do. a and how we ought to leave the Govern- ment alone and give them a chance, was quite good theology, and ought to be a lesson to me in future. Very likely those fellows I had seen on the pro- menade were really as brave as lions but didn’t read the newspapers. I said they would know about the War from their cinemas. I thought I had Parsons there, but you never can have him really, for he used to do Logie once with his sisters’ governess. He retorted that if they had heard about the War it would take a mighty lot of pluck to play the giddy goat as they He said it was really a case of immoral courage. When school began again, we made up our minds, after the mater’s letter, to regard it as an unscrupulous decree and not grouse this time. After all, as Parsons says, some of the stuff they teach you, like Homer, might be useful any day in the Balkans. He says he knows as a fact we are going to start Surds next term because he heard one of the masters say so. It sounds interesting and is perhaps instead of German for fellows that want to act as interpreters. Parsons has been told that Surds are the finest fighting men the Turks have got and there are millions of them in Asia Minor. Parsons knows a lot; he always scores on the General Knowledge paper, and if he wasn’t going in for the Church he says he wouldn’t half mind being an editor. For the Bantams. ‘* Officers’ marquee, 25in. by 20in. used as officers’ mess, complete, with inside lining.”’ Exchange and Mart. How to Please Everybody. ‘‘The teams had met twice previously and | won each time, but on this occasion the result was reversed.’’—Ilford Recorder. ‘““The Germans declared that submarine captains had been ordered not to sink pas- senger vessels and undertook to adopt the greatest precautions to have the lives of passengers.”’ ‘* The Standard" (Buenos Ayres). Truth will out, even in a misprint. ‘* Mr. Choate, who presided, declared that ninety out of the 100,000,000 Americans were in the fullest sympathy with the Allies.”’ Liverpool Echo. It is thought, however, that several of the other 99,999,910 are not actively opposed to us. ,

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Octoser 20, 1915. 9) Kaa 4 - ‘ OK ¥ a BOYS OF THE DACHSHUND BREED. WitHELM (to Franz Joser). “ WELL, WE HAVEN'T SUCCEEDED IN CRUSHING FRANCE OR RUSSIA OR ENGLAND OR ITALY; BUT NOW THAT WE’VE GOT FERDINAND TO HELP US WE MIGHT MANAGE TO SCORE OFF SERBIA!”

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| accord bared their heads in silent OcrosEeR 20, 1915.) ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. EXTRACTED FROM THE Diary OF Tozy, M.P.) House of Commons, Tuesday, Octobe 12th.— Premier not only habitually does the right thing but does it in the right way, a correlation of circumstance not too frequent. On reassembling of House after ten days’ interval he called attention to fact that mean- while four Members have given their lives for their country. He made no set oration, brought with him no seript of prepared monody, No notice of his intention was published. Questions over, he rose and, resting his hands on the brass- bound box, spoke a f2w words of simple earnest sorrow for the loss of gallant comrades. “The House,” he said, “ will, I am sure, acknowledge with grati- tude the splendid example they have set.”’ When his purpose in rising be- came apparent, Members with one sympathy. A whispered message, conveyed to Front Opposition Bench by Cuier Wurp, brought to his feet the right hon. gentleman who endows with dignity the post of Leader of a non-existent Opposition. In shortest speech ever made since, nearly half-a- century ago, a gay young buck with all the world before him where to choose, he came to Westminster to represent the county in which his ancestral home was set, HARRY CHAPLIN supplemented the PrREMIER’s tribute. Heroes all. “* Young men of high pro- mise,’ as the PREMIER said. Because I knew him best I most deeply mourn the cutting off of AGAr-Roparres. He was in all respects highest type of an Englishman. Heir to a peerage, endowed with many interests intellect- ual and social, keenly but tranquilly enjoying the pleasant pathway through which Life led him, he at the trumpet call gave up everything, and went forth to take his turn in the trenches, his share of hourly peril. The battle in which he fell was not his first. Courage of another kind was displayed in his political and pavlia- mentary career. Returned unopposed by a Liberal constituency, he held views on Home Rule differing from those officially adopted by his Party. In such circumstances it is Common practice for the conscientious entient to look out a corner seat below the Gangway, take every opportunity of asserting his independence and of dis- denouncing mistaken views of his leaders and the majority of their following. That not AGAr-RoBarrss’ way. Patiently suffering advice and rebuke he was content to obey dictates of conscience by unobtrusively voting against successive stages of Home Rule | Bill. In equally undemonstrative manner he set out for the Front as if he were going on a Continental holiday trip. Nurse McKenna lets the Inrant SAMUEL do his bit. Business done—The Inrant SAMUEL, bringing in a Bill dealing with postal and telegraph rates originally forming part of Budget scheme, announced amid general cheering that abolition of the halfpenny postal rates will not be insisted upon. Also (this concession not eliciting equal enthusiasm) press telegraph rates will be modified. American Loan Bill, on motion of CHANCELLOR OF EXCHEQUER, carried through all its stages at single sitting. Wednesday.—PrimeE MINISTER, en- FINGER. HoacaGe, THE ACCUSING Mr. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL | gaged elsewhere on Imperial business, | be a deficit of 1,438 million sterling. 333 did not put in appearance at Question hour. This the more regretted since ArTHUR MarkKHAM had placed on the paper a Shorter Catechism, answers to which the House eagerly awaited. Opened with pertinent inquiry as to payment of Members during progress of War and the colossal | expenditure thereby involved. Economy the order of the day. Generally felt that economy, like charity, should begin at home. In flush of prosperity that spread roseate hue over prolonged period of peace, Members voted them- selves salaries of £400 a year, pay- able out of National Exchequer. Total draft amounts to a quarter of a million per annum, a sum that might, among other things, create | and maintain a useful fleet of air- ships. MarkHAM wanted to know whether the Premier will propose that only Members who are able to make declaration that their in- come is inadequate to maintain their position shall continue to receive the salary. Another point which he sub- mitted for kindly consideration of PREMIER was the stoppage of pensions granted to certain ex-Ministers long retired from business. In one case an aggregate sum of £110,000 has beer paid in the way of salary and pension on account of Parliamentary services. Beside this, Members’ salary of £400 a year is alluringly moderate. In absence of PrREmIER, Questions postponed. MArkHAM may be depended upon to take earliest opportunity of putting them. By accidental, not less striking, coincidence, Monraau later in sitting made casual statement that luridly illuminates financial position. He reckoned that next year, if present rate of War expenditure be maintained, there will, in spite of heavily increased taxation levied by two last Budgets, “ Every citizen,” he added, “should be prepared to put at least one-half of | his income at the disposal of the State, whether in the form of tax or loan.” Business done.-—Budget Bill read a second time. Thursday. — ForeigN SECRETARY made promised statement in respect of invasion of Serbia and the intention of Allied Powers in matter of helping the gallant little nation. It suffered in point of interest owing to misunderstanding whereby it had been forestalled by one delivered by French Premier two days earlier. Epwarp Grey further embarrassed by consciousness that as he spoke he

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PUNCH, LON Dt )N OR THE was closely and suspiciously watched by little group below Gangway to his right. Temporarily overcoming natural modesty, these statesmen have con- vinced each other that if conduct of foreign affairs were committed to their care, in supersession of the Cabinet, it would be better for the Empire and the | welfare of the world. For the moment have concentrated attention upon Dardanelles. Placed on Order-book Resolution calling for appointment of Select Committee to inquire into initiation, conduct and actual position | of campaign in that quarter. Mean to | insist upon Government setting aside | all other business and allotting day for discussion. Movement under > joint direction of the PRAGMATI- CAL PRINGLE and a lineal de- scendant of the late Oa, King of BASHAN. Businessdone.—ForEIGN SEc- RETARY makes important state- ment on position in Balkans. A SINGLE THOUGHT. THE followimg letters (with accompanying gift) were sent to 2nd Lieut. Reginald Keley on the eve of his departure for the Front :— From his Sister Beatrice. Daruina Rec,—I do so wish | you hadn’t got to go, and yet of course, if you hadn’t, I should go about saying it was a horrid shame. I can’t write a long letter because it is all so serious, but I am sending you a _peri- scope to use in the trenches and those salient and sector places that seem to be so dangerous ; and I do hope you will always | use it and not pop your head up. I wish I was not so far eso away just now, but I can’t leave my patients even to see you off. Come back safe and sound to Your loving B. From Henry M. Saville, writing on behalf of several friends to their old schoolfellow., Dear Op Sport,—We had a little dinner last night to drink your health in—in barley water, I don’t think. Jack was there and the Goat and old Hoskins and Jerry and me; and we thought we should like to give you some old thing to remind you of us and be a bit of use in helping you both to save your own life and remove that of as many Bosches as Heaven may send your way. Not that we are all so jolly flush—don’t think that, I pray you. But you can tell that from the article itself, which is not precisely ¢ Y CHL ARIVARL [Ocroper 20, 1915, pair of eliein dumbbells. Anyway, it accompanies this letter and is the best kind of periscope I could find at the Stores; and we all wish you the best of luck and a big bag, and wish we had your luck in getting out. How- ever, a time will come! So soon, Yours, Hrnry M. SAvILie. P.S.—It has just occurred to me that perhaps it isn’t legal to treat another fellow to a periscope! From his Unele, Lieut.-Col. Sir Hector Ricardo. Drar ReEGINALD,—I have instructed Messrs. Boothroyd of Bond Street to despatch to you by passenger train, Munition Worker (examining unexploded anti-aircraft shell ‘““THE ONE has damaged his garden). WORST OF IT LOOKS BEASTLY LIKE carriage paid, the latest and best type of periscope for use in the trenches, because I am convinced that in the present kind of warfare, very different from that which I was accustomed to, no officer should be without one. If by any chance you get it broken or it is mislaid, at once let me know, and I will replace it. If you are hit, hand it to one of your companions. Your sincere Friend, Hector Ricarpo. P.S.—When footsore it is a good plan to change socks. Whiskey poured in the boots is also a help. From his old Nurse. | Dear Master ReGInatp,—I can’t | bear to think of you going off to the | Front at this time of year, and you such | a one too to eatch cold. I wish I could I MADE MYSELPF.”’ come With you to take care of you and see that you changed your wet things, but of course that is not to be thought of. Ishould have knitted you some- thing warm, only for the rheumatics in my hands, and so I am sending you instead something which my nephew, who is home wounded, says that every soldier ought to have and which I got the Vicar to get for me when he went to London. Iam too old to understand such things, but they say you can see through this over the top of a trench without being seen yourself. Dear Master Reginald, I shall pray for you every day; and don’t forget to take ‘plenty of eamphor pillules with you for when you are chilled. Yours respectfully, Anw Livesay. From his Cousin, Miss Constance Sabin. My pearest Rec.,—I aim so proud to think you are an officer, with men all of your own, and I shall never cease to regret being so far away that I can’t walk along the street with you and see you receiving salutes—at any rate not till you come back, which of course you are going todo. I have a feel- ing that you will, and lam very rarely wrong. And not wounded either, or only the Do take care of yourself and keep your head down, and do always use the periscope I am sending you. I shall think of you so much over there. Your cousin, Con. either the D.S.O. or Y.C. From his Grandmother. IT IS, My pear ReGinaup,—I am greatly disappointed not to have had a visit from you, but I suppose you have had no time. I should have come to your camp, but felt that old women probably were not there. Having asked several persons what is the best present for a young ofticer at the Front and getting the same reply from all, I am sending you a periscope; and I hope you will make a point of always shooting through it. I also enclose a small cheque for any- thing else you may be wanting. God bless you, my dear boy. Your affectionate GRANNIE. The Veteran Errand-boy. ‘*OLD-AGE PENSIONER Wanted, active, to run errands, do light work.’ Bradford Daily Telegraph. This is what is meant, we suppose, by ‘mobilising the nation.” wanted | teeniest. | P.S.—I am sure you will get

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SO an ur to th 1g yu yu s]- ry ret 1d lo m of et re eC a d iS a PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, 335 7 ~ — eee f. duit oes — LS >. \) . ‘ ~~ ~ ws Yk fp — PY ' \\. | >) = \\\ ’ | | | | | Sergeant. ‘‘ Now, THEN, Reynold s MY LAD, YOU’RE ASKING FOR IT. WHY DON’T YOU USE YOUR PERISCOPE?”’ Tommy. ‘*Il WAS USING IT, AND TWICE I NEARLY GOT A BULLET THROUGH IT.”’ We don’t object to candour when it’s tempered with | THE CROAKER. ’ | ABOUT a year or more ago, when leading Unionists Abjured all party rancour and left the party lists, “ Have we got an Opposition?” The Daily Wail inquired, And bluntly recommended that its leader should be “ fired.” Then came the Coalition, and The Wail awhile was dumb, But very soon with fresh complaints began to make things | hum ; And, concentrating upon shells, took once again the floor With the question, “‘ Have or have we not a Minister of | War? | And so from month to month at each successive crucial stage We've seen this plague of questions fast and furiously rage, Till now the Eternal Querist of The Wail desires to know, “ Have we got a Foreign Office?” and implies that Grey must go. Now the questions that insistently suggest themselves to me-— I’m sure that agree— Do not concern the competence of KiTcHENER or GREY, Or whether Mr. A. or B. or C. should go or stay. And with attitude most honest folk my | In various forms my simple mind they harass and assail | With the ultimate resultant, “Must we have a Daily | Wail?” And I’m moved to meet the question with a | No! | For the reasons which I now propose to tabulate below. most emphatic goodwill ; We would not ban the critic with no venom in his quill; But the candour that is prompted by a feverish desire To provide a daily scapegoat moves our keen and righteous ire. For the fretful Daily Wailer in his daily scapegoat hunt Is forced to make kaleidoscopie changes of his front, And the statesman who is praised to-day as good and wise and great In a month or two is branded as a peril to the State. If he only showed consistency in urging his complaints, If the Sinners he denounces hadn’t lately been his Saints, We might tolerate the Wailer for the progress of the War As a negligible nuisance or an acrimonious bore. But the everlasting grouser who invariably claims All the credit of the actions of the men that he defames, Who blows his own tin trumpet high above the roar of guns, Is a danger to his country and a helper of the Huns. The Home of the Millennium. ‘*One of the windows in the City Temple was unveiled June 30, 1892, in commemoration of the fact that the thousandth anniversary of the Thursday morning's service was celebrated that day.”’ Evening Paper. ‘* Home (comfortable, refined) for one or two gentlemen ; bath close tram.’’—Birmingham Daily Mail. It wouldn’t really save much time, you know. have it on the tram ? Why not

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' scrupulous care. 336 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Ocrozer 20, 1915, NO TREATING. “ Two Brighton biscuits, please, Miss, on two plates,” said the fat red-nosed | man. Then, turning to his comrade, he asked, “ What are you having with a?” ‘“Seotch,” replied the other. “No treating,” murmured the bar- maid automatically. “This isn’t treating; it’s a meal.” “Go on with you,” replied the bar- maid. ‘Tt is,” protested the fat man. “ What with income tax and super - tax, and war-profits tax and tobacco tax and...” “Tea tax,” suggested his companion. “And tea tax,” said the fat man, casting a grateful glance upon his friend, “T can’t afford more’n a biscuit for lunch. ,Nor can ’Erb, and I owe him | a lunch.” “Lunch at a quarter past three! Not much!” exclaimed the barmaid. “Couldn’t get away before,” replied the fat man, adjusting his tie with “Too busy in the office.” , The barmaid was persistent. “A Brighton biscuit isn’t a meal,” she declared. “It’s allthe meal I’m having,” said the thin man. ‘Come to that, what is a meal ?”’ “Here you are, then—two Scotches and two biscuits.” The girl gave the fat man his change and the two men sat down ata table, leisurely swallowed their drinks and made a pretence of eating their biscuits. When their glasses were empty they put the re- mains of the meal in their pockets and the thin man advanced to the counter. “Two Brighton biscuits, please, Miss,” he said, “‘on two plates, and two whiskies,” The girl laughed. “ You can’t have two meals running,” she said. “This is tea now,” argued the thin | man. “No good,” declared the barmaid briskly. “Well then, give me a whiskey and an empty glass.” ‘What do you want the empty glass for?” “Never you mind,” said the thin double man sternly. The girl’s anger rose. any of the whiskey into it I’ll have you run in,” “Give me one whiskey, then,” he | commanded, and beckoned to his friend. ; ee _| rub them with lemon-juice and to put them in “ Bill,” he said, “I bet you a tanner you ‘ve forgot ’Arry Wilkins’s address.”’ “T’ll take you on,” replied the other. “’Arry lives at 29, Goswell Street.” “Right,” said Erb sadly, pushing a sixpence to his friend. “If you pour | _“ A whiskey, please, Miss,” said the fat man, diverting the sixpence across ithe counter. | The barmaid glared but held her | peace. The talk of the two men turned to horses. They discussed current form with considerable interest and not a | little heat. | “Ah,” said Bill at length, as he |drained his glass, “I rather fancy) |Ginger Girl for the two-thirty to- |morrow, but my booky disappeared last week, after the Newmarket meet- ing, and I don’t know of another one. Can you back it for me with yours, do you think?” ‘““Of course I can,” was the answer. “ How much ?” “Only a tanner,” replied the fat man, producing the coin and handing it to his friend as he spoke. Then, noticing the girl’s eye fixed upon him, he added, “I can’t afford more. What with the income tax and the super-tax, and the tea tax and...” The bar- maid turned her back upon him and stared haughtily at the bottles on the shelf. “One whiskey, please, Miss,” cried the two men simultaneously. For the third time they were served, and they drank, talking of many things the while. ‘ “ By the way, Bill,” said Erb, diving his hand into his pocket, “I forgot to pay you back that sixpence you lent me to put in the plate on Sunday.” “Why, so you did,” answered Bill in a tone of great surprise. ‘ Thanks.” Again came the cry from each throat, “One whiskey, please.” The girl’s face was crimson as she served them. They gazed innocently at her helpless rage. “Fine sermon, wasn’t it, Bill?” “ Very fine, Erb, very fine... About these Russians, now...” They launched into a long War argument. The barmaid watched them as a fascinated rabbit watches a snake, and involuntarily half rose from her chair as they set their empty glasses on the | counter. ; | ‘Well, ’Erb,” said the fat man, tak- ‘ing his comrade affectionately by the arm and leading him towards the door, “if it weren’t for these new regulations I’d stand you a drink, old man. Good day, Miss.” ‘* Brown Eyes.—I think the best plan is to the sun. I will not guarantee that this will | whiten them, but it is the best thing I know | of.”"—Our Home. It sounds horribly painful, however. Did our friend Cumrawin go through all this to become white-eyed ? | | THE SOCIAL SITUATION. |Datty ANALYSIS AND ForECAST BY OUR Society Expert. | (What we may expect if a present journ- | alistic fashion persists in peace-time.) | Monpay.—Among the most interest- ing events of the forthcoming week will | certainly be the cricket-match between | Eton and Harrow. I propose, therefore, with the reader’s leave, to examine in some detail the conditions and proba- ble result of the forthcoming contest. First, as to the all-important question of numbers. Here, a careful survey— aided by certain sources of information, authoritative, but the exact nature of which I am unable to reveal—inclines me to the belief that there will be forces. - For data upon which to base our conclusions we are therefore com- pelled to turn to the factor of individual achievement [turns accordingly for half a column}. I have no hesitation in saying that Etonians can await the issue of the approaching conflict with unshaken equanimity. Eton will win. Turspay.—Readers of this paper will be pleased to receive the first public intimation of a romantic betrothal. Sir John Brown, as I am exceptionally in a position to state, has during the past four-and-twenty hours proposed to Hon. Mary Jones, and been accepted. Miss Jones will be recalled as the popular eldest daughter of Lord and Lady Jones, at whose Welsh home the interesting event has just occurred. The wedding, probably a quiet one, is likely to take place very shortly so that the bride and bridegroom may be settled in town before the opening of the Autumn Session. WeEpDNEspDAY.—Striking confirmation |of the news which I was able to give yesterday as to the approaching union of the houses of Brown and Jones, is afforded in the tidings that Lady Jones is giving an impromptu dance this evening at her house, 405, Hill Street, in honour of Miss Jones’s betrothal. I hear that many smart hostesses are | getting up boy-and-girl dinners for this interesting occasion. 405 is a delightful house for dancing. THurspAy.—The musical At Home given at 405, Hill Street last night by Sophonisba, Lady Jones (not, of course, | to be confused With the wife of the every way a brilliant success. Every- body in town seemed to be there. M. Breitmann, the well-known Dutch tenor, | sang many songs; and the playing of the White Portuguese Orchestra was enor- mously enjoyed. By the way, speaking | of the Joneses, you may take it from me little or no inequality in the actual | numerical strength of the opposing | | Welsh peer of the same name), was in |

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Octoser 20, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Dear Olid Lady (with strict ideas of war ec v, uniform for the first time). ‘‘ WELL, YOU DO LOOK NICE, REGGIE, UNIFORM FIRST AND KEEP THIS ONE FOR SUNDAYS?”’ that all the rumours contradictory of the approaching marriage between Miss Mary Jones and Sir John Brown are entirely without foundation. The wedding, I hear, will be celebrated at Tenby. This is exclusive and official, and may be regarded as absolutely disposing of all reports to the contrary. Fripay.—The one innings defeat of Eton by Harrow can have come as no surprise to the readers of this journal. Other things being equal, it is obvious that the result of such a contest as this depends almost entirely upon the state of the wicket. And it has long been an open secret that the recent dry weather had rendered the wicket so fast that, if Harrow could muster their full strength in bats, the result was a foregone con- clusion. Of course two days’ steady rain would have sufficed to reverse this situation; but in cricket (as I have more than once pointed out) we concerned with facts, not with fetched eventualities. Sir John Brown, touching whose matrimonial prospects gossip has been so busy lately—and as usual utterly wide of the mark—leaves town this are far- NL0T1NY, LO to her neple DEAR; BUT week for Central Africa, big game hunt- This disposes once and for all} ing. of various entirely futile conjectures concerning one of the most confirmed bachelors in Society. Saturpay.—The very quiet wedding of Sir John Brown to Miss Jane Robinson seems to have come as a bombshell to many of our amateur prophets. To those in the know, how- ever, signs have for some time not been wanting that something of the kind was probable, though (for obvious reasons) we could give no more precise indication of our knowledge. The happy event took place at Salisbury, the only bridesmaid, the Hon. alas for ill-informed prog- nostication !—was charmingly gowned in blue and silver chiffon. Thus ends a crowded week. Of the events to be expected in the next we shall reserve information till Monday. and Mary Jones ‘* Landing of the Allied troops coming to of the people of Serbia egun and will take its curse.” Manchester Evening News. he has assistance These pessimists again. who has just been promoted from the ranks and has donned officer's DON’T YOU THINK YOU MIGHT WEAR OUT YOUR OLD “Our Day.” Mr. Punch begs leave to remind his generous readers that a special effort is to be made on Thursday, October | 21st, to raise funds for the support of the splendid work that is beng carried on by the British Red Cross Society and the Order of St. John of Jerusalem for our wounded at the Front and for those of our Allies. many noble services these Societies Among their | have already sent out 5,000 Surgeons, | Nurses, Orderlies, Motor-Ambulance Drivers; £140,000 worth of Hospital and Medi- cal Stores ; £220,000 worth of gifts Stretcher-Bearers, Hospital | for the wounded, including nearly | 2,000,000 articles of clothing; 1,000 Motor-Ambulances, Lorries, Cycles, &c., which require £200,000 for a year’s upkeep; and 1,200 packets of food every week to Prisoners-of-war in Germany; besides establishing Hospitals, Hospital Trains, Rest Stations and Convalescent Homes abroad. It is impossible to spend money in a better cause.

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| ought simply to be loving it PUNCH, OR

THE BUDGET. “WeELL, well,” said Francesca, “this Budget of yours | doesn’t seem to be so popular after all.” | “It’s a way Budgets have,” I said. “ But why do you! call this one mine? I hadn’t the least bit of a little finger, let alone a hand, in it.” “No, you didn’t absolutely make it; but you praised it up to the skies and said it was a proof of financial stability and inexhaustible resources, and a nasty smack in the eye | for the Germans and all that sort of thing; and now you admit it’s not popular. If it’s all you said it was, people and raving about it—but | | they ‘re not.”

“Oh, yes,” I said, ‘some of them are. For instance, if you met Mr. McKenna you'd find him perfectly devoted to it.” “Oh, don’t,” she said. “Don’t what?” I said. “Don’t conjure up a McKenna.” “Why not?” Isaid. Mr. McKryna’s a very able man. He once rowed in the Cambridge crew.” “ Yes, yes, I know,” she said ; “ but that was a good many years ago, wasn’t it? It’s had time to wear off. Now he’s just bristling with figures.” “ And a very good sort of thing to bristle with,” I said. “Tf a man must bristle with something let him bristle | with - * | “T daresay you're right,” she said. ‘ You sometimes | are. But I own I like a quiet unobtrusive bristler—the sort of man who doesn’t want to take you beyond ten times ten in the multiplication table. I’m sure Mr. McKenna couldn’t be persuaded to stop there. He'd be into rule of | three and vulgar fractions and recurring decimals before you could turn round, and he’d pile millions and billions and | trillions on your head. Where should I be with a man | like that? I don’t even know what four and a half per| cent. is on thirteen pounds seven shillings and ninepence three farthings. Nor for the matter of that do you—now | do you?”’ “Francesca,” I said, “I will be quite honest with you. I do not know at this moment what four and a-half per | cent. is (or are) on thirteen pounds seven shillings and | ninepence three-farthings. The calculation is complex and | difficult, but if you give me time and a pencil and a piece of paper I will start on it with every hope of carrying it toa more or less satisfactory finish; but 1 warn you not to be| too sanguine about it. It won't be a large sum—something | well under a pound, I fancy; in facs so small that it’s | scarcely worth worrying about. However, if you insist I'll) have a shot at it. Only you must leave me alone in the room and come back in about an hour and a-half.” | “ And there,” said Francesca, “ you have the difference between you and Mr. McKenna. If I asked him a thing | like that he’d rattle out the answer without so much as | blinking. ‘ Eleven and fivepence and forty-one fifty-thirds | of a penny,’ he’d say, or whatever the real answer might be. ‘Next, please.’ And he could go on like that for ever, even if he had scores of wives in the room with him.” “ Don’t you think,” I said, “that you are rather jumping | at conclusions about the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER ?”’ | “ Well,” she said, “if I see a conclusion simply staring me in the face I like to go for it quick. You like to go down on your knees and crawl up to it, and you generally find it isn’t there when you get to it.” “At any rate,” I said, “I observe the logical processes.” “There isn’t time in these days for logical processes. Things have to be done sharp and slippy.” of Mr vision my meeting

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“ Like taxation,” I suggested. ‘Yes, isn’t it monstrous?” “T remember,” I said, “ when that great statesman, Mr. | ” GLADsTONE—— *“ You don’t seem to have thought so much of him when he was alive,” she said. “ Anyhow,’ I said, “I remember when he proposed to abolish the income-tax altogether.” “And why didn’t he?” “Because the country wouldn’t have it. The country scouted the mere idea and gave the old man a frightful knock.”

“Oh dear,” said Francesea, “I wish I’d lived in those | ” days. ‘‘Mid-Victorian,”’ I said. them.” ‘‘T should have loved them,” she said. ‘It would have been like living in ANrtHoNYy TROLLOPE’s novels.” “You wouldn't have liked “Yes, and you would have fallen in love with the wrong man at the beginning of the book and would have kept on refusing me—— oN . , ’d hav hee he 77", ‘ ” No; you’d have been the wrong man. “You'd have kept on refusing me, in spite of your whole family, up to the last chapter but one.” “ And then I should have decided to be an old maid, and so we should have gone on through half-a-dozen sequels. Yes, I should have loved those days.” “ However,” I said, “ you can’t have them back, an <o | it’s no use crying over spilt novels.” “ Never mind,” she said, “ there’s always Mr. McKenna and his Budget.” ‘And the income-tax,”’ I said, “and the taxes on pianos and motor cars.” “Yes,” she said, ‘‘ why do they want those?” “T think I can explain that,” I said. “T wish you would.” “ Well,” I said, “‘ when the balance of trade “ What’s that?” she said. “ T wish you wouldn’t interrupt.” * All right,” she said, “ go on.” “When the balance of trade is heavily against us; that is to say when the imports largely exceed the exports——”’ “ How naughty of them! What’s an import?” ”

“An import,” I said, “is something imported into this country from another country.” “T thought it was going to be that” she said. guava jelly.” “Well, yes,” I said, “something like that. there is a heavy excess of imports we have to check them.” “Why?” she said. “I like guava jelly. I don’t want it checked a bit.” * Ah, but we mustn't spend our money on luxuries, must learn to save,’ I said, ‘‘ so as to——”’ ‘‘T see,” ‘so as to be able to pay more and more in taxes. I’ve got it at last.” “Yes,” I said, “ that’s about the long and the short of it.”’ “Well then,” she said, “1 want you to promise me one thing.” “Tt’s promised,” I said. * Like We she said ; “ What is it?” So when | “ Promise me, when you pay our taxes, to pay them, not | grudgingly, but gladly. Don’t merely look pleasant, but be pleasant. It’s about the only way in which we can really help in the war.” I promised to do my best. R. C. L.

‘* But we do not forget the inexorableness of Anna Domini.”’ Sunday Paper. Even Pope’s ‘ Great Anna, whom three realins obey,” was nothing to this one.

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se ed ao ng on ot ut an | | October 20, 1915.] Newly-joined Officer (at reveille). ‘‘ CONFOUND you ! 09 TRUMPET OF YOURS: THAT ’S THE SECOND TIME THIS WEEK YOU ’VE WAKED ME UP WITH THAT DASHED - LLLP PCr " 7 te {> 4 CATV pte b- +—\ \\ OUR BOOKING-OFFICE, (By Mr. Punch’s Staff of Learned Clerks.) For this great while Mrs. ALFRED Sipawick has com- manded the homage of those who like an interesting story told with a pleasant touch of distinction. But I am afraid | that in her latest volume, Mr. Broom and His Brother (CHAPMAN AND Hatt), though the story is there—indeed two stories—the distinction is sadly to seek. The fact is that the book is composed of a brace of pot-boilers, good enough by the measure of such things, but astonishingly below the level that we have learnt to expect from Mrs. Sipawick. Having said this, I will admit unblushing that I read every page of both tales and could have enjoyed more. The first is about a Prince who is bored with Princeliness, so he runs away and becomes Mr. Broom, travelling secretary to a pair of good-hearted vulgarians. It is also about a fair maid, rich beyond counting, with whom the supposed Mr. Broom falls in love. Finally it is about two very wicked villains, male and female, who are | constantly endeavouring, for financial motives, to poison the heroine or push her over cliffs. I fancy somehow that Mrs. Sipewick, having done suflicient violence to her gentle nature in creating this astonishing pair, was at something of a loss how to deal with them. For one thing, the number of tries she allows them to have at poor Patricia, while the good characters stand about and watch, struck me as an excess of generosity. Finally, however, the villains run away unharmed (to bob up serenely in the next story and murder somebody else) and Patricia falls into the arms of Mr. Broom. So he puts on his smartest uniform, which with a fine pre- vision he appears to have brought with him on purpose, and everybody bows, and the curtain comes down on a blaze of regal splendour. All of which is agreeable enough, but hardly Sidgwickian. Nor is the second story much more convincing. I can only trust that the author, having shown what she can do with puppets, will now return to the | humans whom she draws so delightfully. If ever there was a book in which you might expect white-hot anger, and find instead a constraint and sobriety infinitely more eloquent, it is the volume issued under the auspices cf the French Foreign Office, and published in England, with an introduction by the translator, Mr. J.O. P. Buanp, under the comprehensive title of Germany's Violations of the Laws of War (HEINEMANN). Here is an indictment of an army and a nation absolutely unanswer- able; deadly in its direct simplicity. There are ten chap- ters in the book. Each of them deals with some special variety of crime, such as treachery, violations of treaty, use of forbidden agents, cruelty, theft and the like. At the head of each is quoted the undertaking given by Germany in the articles of the Hague Convention; below in grim contrast are the Deeds of Germany, such a record of infamy as can never fade from the recollection of thinking men. The charges are based partly on the signed and sworn testimony of responsible witnesses, more often on the writings of German officers and men, and of these writings, in the large majority of cases, a photographic fac-simile accompanies the printed version and translation. No method could be more utterly damning, for it allows no possibility of evasion or contradiction. Out of their own mouths Germans stand here condemned for all time as a people who have deliberately removed themselves beyond the pale of civilisation. Before such a record all prattle of | excuse and allowances must sink to an abashed silence. |

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THE LONDON CHARIVARL [OcToBER PUNCH, OR Litera scripta manet; these torn and mud-stained scraps of paper, fragments from diaries and pocket-books, have built a barrier that for generations will shut out Germany from the community of the human race. To be able to depict a bore without permitting his person- ality to bore the reader requires an adroitness which very few novelists possess, and ELLEN THorNEycrorr FowLER shows in her latest story, Ten Degrees Backward (Hopper AND StrouGuHTon), that she is not one of them. For the purposes of the plot it was necessary to convince the reader that Annabel Kingsnorth was to an almost inhuman extent endowed with stupidity and lack of humour; and Miss FowLer does it by recording her every speech, with the result that before long one’s dislike of Miss Aingsnorth becomes a comprehensive dislike of the book and everything in it. A great weariness falls upon one. It was possibly this weariness that prevented me from being able to assimi- late the situation for which nine-tenths of the book was designed to prepare me. As arule I am not an exacting novel- reader. Give me time, don’t bustle me, let me brace my- self up and make the effort, and | can swallow néarly anything. But the culmi- nating point—what Ameri- cans call the punch—of Ten Degrees Backward was too much for me. Qnmy honour as a Learned Clerk, 1% is this—that a wife dresses herself up in man’s clothes | and passes herself off on | her husband for a _ long period of time as_ his brother-in-law, and he has not a suspicion of the truth till she throws her arms round his neck and bursts into tears. It is true that Miss Fowxer dwells on the nor that the prettiest had hectic cheeks which eventually required her to be sacrificed in the interests of pathos; nor, 20, 1915. indeed, that her wraith overlooked the difference between | Canadian and English time in appearing to announce the | event. All this, | say, you might well foresee, but you might not by any means guess what a nimble way the | authoress has of sliding about the pages, patting and coax- ing her dutiful children to keep them all marching abreast ; nor the lavish supply of dainty humour with which the whole procession is besprinkled from 1 to 400. It is this that makes me cry excellent, and as for the Sort—it is many people’s sort, and very likely yours. A title like The Wife Who Found Out (WERNER Laurie), by the author of The Secret Flat and The Wild Widow, justifies one in supposing that one is meant to expect a dubious tale of domestic infelicity. Well, one gets it duly from Miss WENTWoRTH-J AMES. really found out was something much more tremendously But what Lady Carshutt | thrilling than Sir Clifford’s quite incidental if notorious | aberrations. For she dis- covered why Léonie, or la commonly called, who was alleged to have left her main, was devoted to such a singularly uninteresting person as Sir Clifford, the well-known inventor of the ‘“‘mariscope,” a dodge for detecting the approach of submarines. I dare not tell you that The Wife Who Found Out found out any- thing very likely; or that, in general, either incidents or setting have any plausi- ble relation to life as it is lived; or that Léonie, who knew no English to speak : ise Little Girl. ‘*A LOAF, PLEASE.”’ S : fact that the wife and her ; : , of, was a credible spy or a : Shopkeeper. ‘‘ BREAD ’S GONE UP A HA’PENNY THIS MORNING.” tg. Hire brother were twins and that . ms ‘ ie tactful; or that Sir Clifford rin Little.Girl. ‘‘ WELL, GIVE ME ONE OF YESTERDAY’S. Sa o the husband’s sight was de- behaved in any way re- fective. But—no! It may be that I was so reduced by three hundred pages of Annabel that I was not in my best form; it may be that I am not the swallower I thought myself, The fact remains that this test of my gift for deglutition was beyond me. I am sorry, and shall try to do better next time. To say a book is excellent is one thing; to say it is excellent of its sort is a matter so entirely different that I am afraid I cannot expect Mrs. GzorGr bE Horne Vaizey to value very highly an appreciation thus qualified; but really and truly, in regard to her latest venture, Salt of Life (Mitts anp Boon), there is nothing else for it. That the class near the head of which it is to be placed is large and familiar you will understand very readily on hearing that the story has to do with lots of nice little girls turning into nice big girls, not finding adventures or even many inci- dents in the process, but just discovering in the most natural way imaginable how pleasant it is to look pretty, how well arranged is a scheme of things that leads in the Victorian manner to warm homes and the smiles of Baby Peter, Once in the secret you will not be surprised to learn that the jolliest lass of the troop wrote novels on the sly, which in the end, though for a while one had quite good hopes to the contrary, promised to make her famous ; motely resembling a member of “the Naval Board.” But, after all, what is Art for but to conceal Life? I find no other belle Ttefugiée, as she is | parents slaughtered in Ter- | suflicient recommendation for this ingenuous narrative, | | which from its general character, its boneless anatomy and ‘its divésion into palpitating convenient lengths I should | judge to have begun life as a feuzlleton. ; | — | - | The Scapegoat. | ‘*From cotton, through Gallipoli to the resignation of Venizelos | we have a chain of disasters absolutely staggering in their fatuity. I think the public must now ask firmly: ‘ Who is responsible ?’— Austin Harrison.’’—Sunday Pictorial. | We should never have dared to lay the blame on him. ) | ‘* Major Yates fell wounded. Comley, who was also wounded, saw him fall, and getting up started to run fifty years to the major’s side.”’—Evening Paper. ‘* He himself was within ten years of a German ‘ oc? 77’ gun.’ Morning Paper. No wonder people ask how long the War is going to last. ’ ‘*Last Thursday and Friday the German positions were battered continuously for fifty hours.’’— Yorkshire Evening Post. Soldiers have often said that the day at the Front seemed longer than it does at home, but this is the first intimation we have had that it is actually longer.

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} | at | Ocroser 27, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 341 ly So ee : . . aaeel atthe CHARIVARIA. : WSS ion | Aw American, recently returned from ia Germany, asserts that in order to ‘ the | protect the Kaiser from capture or n | injury four soldiers made up to re- “v | semble him travel about in duplicates of the the Imperial car and receive the cheers +g | | of the populace. It is charitably sup- ca. posed that one at least of the dummi s ; has gone beyond the passive réle | assigned to him, and that this accounts BE), | for some of the strange utterances | | attributed to the KAISER. 5 a | ; , * . aby | After declaring that the KAISER uit fires the unagination of every German ie “ because in him there live again the ne | combined spirits of an Alexander, a lis- | | Cesar, and a ( harlemagne, the Ham- la | | burg J'remdenblatt asserts that ‘“ we “a Germans would gladly follow his lead et through the very gates of hell, were it en necessary. The qualification is surely aie superfluous. ich | ae ' . “mn Miss Mary Boorn, of the Salvation "Woe Army, Says that at one of the base- “tet hospitals in France, when a wounded for nan is to he sent home, three pieces of of taupe are tied at the foot of the bed, ell and from that moment the patient can ie think of nothing else. A similar phe- ds nomenon has been observed in some of at, | the Government offices at home. y After the success of a Maubeuge | a factory chimney in killing a Zeppelin “ crew, it is reported that Sir PErcy Scorr at | + is about to build a ring of similar strue- ‘ tures all round London. rd | ; oa The publishers of J. R. Green's ut. | Short History of the Enylish Peopl ae announce ‘“‘a new and final edition.” ve. This indication that British annals will nd shortly be closed has given Lreat plea- ld sure in Berlin. Mr. APPLETON, secretary of the Gen- 4 | eral Federation of Trade Unions, is THE PROFESSIONAL SPIRIT | | reported to have said that “ those who , 9 Aacisinad Gaiam ois Qiiatiaiens. Gem. i ies : toe on on | —- | were in favour of conscription were not Py beveeypg oA a ™ Ss THE ZEPPELIN, SIR—RIGHT OVERHEAD! CoME IN, ¢ | “y- playing cricket.” He might have added , Pon th ; . 7a sae ba a ton . Ree — ee Pr nr!” 7 JS 5 ’ Enthusiastic Engineer. ‘‘ My! Atx’r HER ENGINES RUNNING SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL! +; | with at least equal truth, that sone of |—==> oo -——— ————— | those who are opposed to conseription \ Mitcham woman was fined £5 at In an otherwise appreciative notice are still playing football. Croydon recently for taking a bite out of the new play at the Wingsway wisi | of a police-sergeant’s hand. For the Theatre, the writer observes, ‘‘ As yet, | ate } According to Sir Hersperr Tree same money she might almost have of course, there are plenty of signs of | | (as reported in a Birmingham paper) had a whole cheese sandwich at one immatunity.” It is a nice word, but | | “only the force and calm of humour | of our night clubs we should have been inclined to reserve could stay us from crossing the border- * * it for a musical comedy. land which separated despai from mad- T] ( Cago Time ; reports that * ‘alt ness.” But where ave we at present? (Jacques Lenaupy, “ Emperor — of It is expected that the distribution . Sahara,’ has consented to undergo of the Nobel Prizes will again be sus- ed | Onlearning from The British Medical treatment in an American asylum for pended this year. This will be a on | Journal that the heart is “insensitive | what he calls “those sudden ideas.’’ great disappointment to the IXAISER, | | to direct stimulation” several of our) Some of our War experts are made of who had counted on getting one for his | = | Minor poets have retired from business. | sterner stuff. efforts in the cause of peace. Vor... CXLIX. 5

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342 PUNCH], OR THE LONDON CHARIVART. [Octroper 27, 1915, BALKAN NURSERY RHYMES. ,to Netson’s column in Trafalgar canvas that passes in the night. It is | Square, but he would be disappointed. | all there. (After Tennyson's lullaby in “Sea |The column would hurt you if it fell| Dreams.” ) And through the haze, and the sea, and the sun-rise and the sun-set, and ‘‘ What does little birdie say In her nest at break of day?’’ Wat does little Ferpire say In his tent behind the fray ? “T’m afeared,” says little Frrvte, “T shall lose my head some day.” Fervie, wait a little longer Till the hate of you grows stronger, And your nose a little longer— You shall lose your head some day. What does little Trxo say In his chamber, Athens way ? ‘Let me off,” says little Trvo, “T don’t want to join the fray.” Trxo, what of Salonika? Though his fides may be Greca, For the sake of Salonika Tino too shall join the fray. What does little MEHMED say In his harem, far from gay? “Since you ask me, I was thinking I should like to run away. Whether England knocks me siily, Or I wipe the boots of Wixty, I shall end by looking silly ; I’m a loser either way.” O.S. THE GRAND FLEET. (With acknowledgments to the American author of the articles, “ With the | Grand Fleet,” written for “The | Times” of London, Eng.) THE sea! Salamis looked on it, WILLIAM THE Conqueror crossed it, Lipron and Dewey have sailed it, Brighton is situated on it, JoNAH was thrown into it, and I myself have been sick of it on my way to Europe to write articles. There are different sections of the| sea, and it is not to be inferred that this part of it is identical with any- | thing scheduled above. On the con- trary, it is another section. But it is the same sea—breezy, wet, briny, with little waves that splash and big! waves that do rather more, and undula- tions that bring the throbbing heart of a journalist nearer to his palpitating mouth, And on this sea—this well- known, time-honoured, immemorial! every gun its adjunct of shot and shell! | sea—what do I behold ? A Fleet! | on you; JELLICOE is not like that. | The Commander-in-Chief walks the | all my bag of journalistic tricks—above deck of the Unsinkable. Like his| and below all this, what is the inner great predecessor of the Pinafore, he! meaning of this mighty sea and this carries a telescope under his arm.|storm-tossed Fleet? To me it is clear. tant he applies the telescope to his eye that over the bosom of this selfsame —not to a blind eye, as did Lord sea, and under the guns of this self- Newson, but to a seeing, hearing,|same Fleet, a neutral country may watching eye. | When he wishes to see anything dis-|Its message—its meaning—is this: | | He paces the deck, | render its invoices and ship its goods | /and as he paces a tense air of attention seems to spread galvanically amongst his men. They stand alert and up- right; they do not slouch ; their hands are not in their pockets; their backs are not turned carelessly on their Admiral. Yet JELLIcor is not a harsh or brutal | tyrant; he is a good and kindly man. He is strong and yet gentle; clean- shaven and yet devout; and capable, so they say. His men love him, and his country will learn to appreciate him now that I have told it of his real worth. And always remember that he bears gladly with neutral journalists. From the contemplation of JELLICOE | I pass on to other ships and other men. And here let me tell you that the Captains remarkable for this, that they are not senile; and that life for them is one ceaseless round of duties. Would you have thought it if I had not told you? And the ships! Here lie the giant Hyena and the massive Gnu, with their glossy guns and shining Midshipmen. Young men too, these latter, with not a grey hair amongst them. Here is the Lady Squadron —the good Qucen Anne, the saucy Bloody Mary, the Susie that does not sew shirts. hard hit in the Balkan Peninsula. The shell made one hole as it came in and another as it went out, but both apertures are now closed up—such is the wonderful thoroughness of naval organization. Here roll the tiny Des- troyers, grey as their own sea, black as their own coal, white as—no, not white as. its complement of well-trained men— not a German amongst them—and At moments I felt that I must be on and Admirals are chiefly | Here rises the Insoluble, | And, mind you, every ship has | and haul in its dollars in perfect safety and happiness—yea, even trade its Christmas purchases with Germany ! Some Fleet! Hounds of War. Mr. H. A. Cruso recently had a | ‘poem in The Westminster Gazette on | the subject of the “impatience” of our | ships :— ‘* Greyhounds we | Of the old grey sea, Straining and tugging our leash to be free. Hark! hark! Do you hear us bark ?’’ He went on to show that these bark- ing (sic) greyhounds are very anxious to follow the scent (sic) and chase their quarry to its lair (sic). We fear that Mr. Cruso must have been some time | ‘on his desert island and missed the Waterloo Cup meetings. Or perhaps ‘there is a difference between Waterloo | jand Trafalgar greyhounds. Le Mot Juste. From a story in The Christian World :— ‘* She fingered her copper tresses gingerly.”’ ‘* Private —— has had a series of mis- fortunes. He lost his hat and his money on coming home from France, he missed his train going back (and was delayed until last Tuesday), and now he has just missed Icsing his life.’’ | Wolverhampton Express and Star. | Private is understood to be bear- | ing up under the last misfortune with | remarkable fortitude. ‘* According to press reports German troops and artillery are being transferred from Galicia to the Siberian front.” Liverpool Evening Express. The Russians, we understand, are giv- For some reason, unfathomable as | my own North American Fleet, and | ing them every facility in the way of the waters, I am permitted to go round | there came like a flash to me that|railway-trains and escorts. this Fleet. about it. As a Dry Goods Store is directed by | a Wanamaker, so is this Fleet directed by an Admiral. JEtuicor is his name, but JELLICOE is not his nature. An American might well expect to find in him some physical resemblance | | And I will tell you all) memorable phrase of one of mycountry- | men—* Blood is thicker than water.” I see it all, not as in a dream, but in a waking reality—great vessels melt- ing into horizons and looming out of distances ; gaunt guns and slumbering torpedoes ; winking yard-arms of wire- less; decks a-scrub and spars a-shine ; | now in the right hands. | ‘*Desirous of making the whole Chamber | acquainted with the military and diplomatic situation in the East the Committee on | Eternal Affairs unanimously decided to ar- | range a preliminary meeting for to-morrow.”’ Morning Paper. The Everlasting Eastern Question is |

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15. s PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Octoper 27, 1915. It is | | | sea, | and | bove | | y, ih nner | } if | this vie HH} | lear. AL shis : {Lh same | self- may oods | i ifety » its | SS ty } 2 on | our 1 \ “zie eeeess Tait ark- | Hay ious heir ty) | My) i that | WAY | ‘ime ATE: GEY ; i} the G ‘ : LUps yj ‘ rloo AN tian ay.” mis- yon his last sing iv. ear- vith oops | ti | licia | / Ss. piv- | : \ , of | : ZS dT | OUR FRIEND THE ENEMY. JoHN Buun (very calmly).’“AH, HERE HE COMES AGAIN—MY BEST RECRUITER.”

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o7 OcTOBER 1915.] 3i, Wounded Soldier. Visitor. ‘* Have you Soldier. ‘* No. ‘‘ IT ACHES SOMETHING CRUEL.” TOLD THE DOCTOR?” I poN’T TELL HIM MUCH OF HOW I FEEL3—IT ONLY DISCO-JRAGES HIM.” THE CENSOR AMONG THE POETS. Pustic attention was recently drawn to the action of the Government Censor ” in excising the words “and the kings from the well-known line of Mr. Kiprina’s “ Recessional”’: ‘«The captains and the kings depart.” The alleged reason was that no kings could depart as there were no kings there; but the excision was really made on the ground that the Censor could not admit any reference to the move- ments of Royalty. As journalists, however, the privileges accorded to them, con- tinue to indulge in the miscellaneous citation of English verse, with complete in spite of disregard of military consequences, we understand that a large number of in structions are about to be issued by the Simple of the for the guidance of those who insist on Thus: ‘* Drink to me only with thine eyes.’ Censors 11D, Simons quoting familiar lines. Delete “ with thine eyes,” aus suggest Ing defective water-supply. Maud For “ oarden ” read “ basement.” Ojjficial Directions. * Come into the garden ‘* Tt was a summer evening, Old Kaspar’s work was done.’ Delete second line as calculated to en- courage unfavourable view of English industry. Old Kaspar should be re- presented as working overtime at near- est munition factory. ‘* Oft in the stilly night, Ere slumber’s chain hath bound me, I’ond memory brings the light,’’ &e. elete phrase about ight. Fond Delete pl I lig memory should not bring a light of any kind at this hour. See Police Re rulatie WS. ‘They grew in beauty s de bv side They filled one home with glee.”’ Cancelled as direct incitement to baby- killers. Ye distant +, Ye antique towers, Th ul cre ni ttery glade.” Delete second line as likely to assist enemy in location of important national buildings. Marv had a little lamb.”’ Delete last three words as suggesting | Shortage of food supply. ‘*T shot an arrow into the air; It fell to earth, I know not where.’ Delete second line, which might be taken to indicate inaccuracy of anti- aircraft marksmanship. Aunty-Aircraft. A married daughter living ‘“ some- | where in London” was asked to wire home if safe after Zeppelin raid. The following telegram was received in reply :— ‘* Aunt talked so hard bombs nor guns.”’ we heard neither ‘The vessel [a Zeppelin] seems to lost its bearings, for it hid apparently been cruising about the Zuider Zee before the fusi lade of the centuries brought its commander to realise his position.” He felt then that time was against him. | | ‘* The lowest price consols has reached was in 1797, when, owing to the meeting at the Nose, the figure fell to £473.”’ Teesdale Mercury. The delicacy of feeling which prompts this veiled allusion to the Mutiny at the Nore will be much appreciated in Naval circles.

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A GENERAL RISING. Tue telephone began it. I walked, after my custom, briskly into the call- box, raised the receiver and asked for the number—a thing I have done for years. I then extracted from my pocket the two pennies which had been carefully placed there for the purpose and waited. The girl’s voice at last sounded: “Put three pennies in the slot and turn the handle,” she said. You could have knocked me down with anything. “Put how many?” I asked. “Three pennies in the slot and turn the handle,” she replied. “Why three ?” I inquired icily. “The price has gone up,” she said. “Why?” I asked. a “ What is dearer?” “ T don’t know,” she said. ‘ Everything’s gone up.” “ But it’s a swindle,” I declared. ‘It’s a “Put three pennies in the slot and turn the handle,” she broke in. “T can't,” I said. “T’ve only brought two.” “Then you can’t telephone,” she replied. She had the grace to add, “I’m sorry.” “But I’m an old customer,” I said. “I’m one of your best cus- tomers.” ‘“T can’t help it,” she replied. ‘Mayn’t I owe you !_—__ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL — He averted his eyes, and I perceived that I had hit the truth. “Tt’s old stock,” I said, “and you ought to give an old customer the benefit of it. If you haven’t paid extra on it why should I?” He said it was impossible for him, doing the trade he did, to know what was old stock and what was new. All he knew was that the tax on tobacco had gone up and he would shortly be ruined. I bade him a permanent farewell and in another shop purchased a cheap tobacco which burnt my tongue and is burning it even now as I write. Then, having a cold, I went to the chemist’s for some asperin. For a tiny bottle of tabloids he asked two shillings. CHAMPAGNE IN WAR TIME!”’ ‘““My prar! a penny?” I asked. “I’m sorry, but it can’t be done,” she replied. “ All right,” I said. “You can tell them that in future all I have to say I shall write on halfpenny postcards. They ’ve lost a good friend.” And I came away. This bitter experience proved to be a fitting prelude to a disenchanting day. a new half-pound tin of what used once to be harmlessly and playfully called “ Plutocrat Mixture,” for which I have been in the habit of paying at the rate of sevenpence an ounce, I put down two half-crowns, expecting four- pence change. “I’m very sorry,” said the tobac- conist, “but it’s gone up. It’s ten- pence an ounce now.” “Why?” I asked. “The new taxation,” he said. “T don’t believe you got this stock in since the Budget,” I said. Going next to my tobacconist for | “ Absurd,” I said. “You won’t get it cheaper,” he said. “Tt’s gone up. It’s going up more too.” “T used to get that for tenpence or less,” I said as I left the shop. “Two shillings! Pooh.” But I had to pay two shillings before I had done, or go without. That’s the worst of things that one really wants; the shopkeepers always get you in the end. In spiting them you merely cut off your nose. I then went to be shaved. we've had to add twopence to the charge. The War, you know.” I said I knew it. “ How?” he asked. “Tt’s in the air,” I said. “Oh, no, Sir,” he replied, “ not the ‘air. In the lather. Lather’s gone up.” I was now due to fulfil with extreme reluctance an old engagement in the | electrocuting—I mean—dentist’s chair. “T’m sorry,” said the barber, “ but | [Ocroper 27, 1915. | Having taken my seat I asked him if he had heard of the great advance. He stopped in whatever diabolical task he was performing at his box of tricks and turned round excitedly. “Has there?” he said. ‘ Where? In France?” “No,” I said, “in price. thing ’s dearer.” He completed his grisly preparations, and then, having got me well into his power, he began to talk. He said that it was an awful bore arid he was very sorry, but he and his partner, much against their own wish, had been forced to—ah—slightly augment their fees. ‘T suppose forceps are much dearer?” I inquired. «“ Well ah——.”’ he said. «And hot water,” I continued, “I’m ~~) sure that’s risen.” He finished my poor mouth in silence, which, at any rate, was some- thing to be glad about. Every- state of my nerves that I literally sobbed with joy and relief when, on and inquiring of the young lady the price of a penny stamp, she re- | felt as if I would never buy anything else. Is the gum, I wonder, nu- tritious enough to sup- port life? That evening I sat down and letter to be sent to the editors of all the papers _——_—+—!to which I succeed in | contributing articles. _ “Dear Sir (I wrote),—I beg toinform you that in consequence of the War }and the rise in the cost of paper, pens and ink, I have been reluctantly forced | to increase my price from one penny to one penny farthing a line.” But I did not send it. Literary men have no courage. Also they are not necessaries. ‘* Two young Ladies (at present Tailoresses) desire change of occupation ; would not object , to taking gentleman’s position.’’ Eastbourne Gazette. | Another triumph for the sex! It takes nine tailors to make a man, but only two tailoresses to make a gentleman. | ‘Would a Lady, giving up her school, sell jher boarders, Girls, to a first-class Inland | School, 20 miles out of London? Liberal terms.’’—Morning Paper. The Anti-Slavery Society ought to in- | tervene to get these boarders enlarged. Such was by now the | entering a post-offic: | plied, “One penny.” I | wrote a |

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5. him e. lical x of are ? ery- ons, his that very uch reed S. =F

[’m 00r ich, me- out. |

‘the | that vith | |, On ffic : | the e of - re- B T | over Is nu- suUp- sat | the pers 1 in orm War ens reed y to nen not sses) bject te. ukes only n. , sell land beral ) in- ged. a |

| OcroBeR 27, 1915.]

MEATLESS MAGIC. [In Health Without Meat Mrs. Evstacr Mines gives various recipes, in which, amongst other ingredients, appear “‘ emprote ” and ‘* embovno.’’] How happy the lot of the veg-er, Who, nursed in the ethics of Sm1uzs, Has never attended the Leger And feeds in the manner of M1Les; Rich luncheons that cost half-a-sov. no Attraction exert on his mind, But he loves his “ emprote ” “ emboyno ”’— So cheap, yet refined. and

Disasters are certain to flatten Beyond any hope of relief Carnivorous people who batten On gobbets of mutton and beef ; The downfall of Warsaw and Koyno Struck many a meat-eater dumb, But, thanks to “ emprote”’ and ‘“ em- boyno,” I didn’t succumb. What fruit or what plant they are torn from No layman can ever divine ; What Milesian soil they are born from I cannot discover; in fine, | What they make these ingredients of no Poor doggerel bard can make clear, ‘Tis enough that “ emprote ” and “embovno ” Enrapture the ear.

—

== =

ZEPPELINS AND OTHER “ MUCK.” I RECENTLY selected a remote East | Anglian village for the purpose of a short | -holiday and much-needed rest. My one recreation was to discuss with the in- | habitants the Great War, of which [| | found some of them had heard. Indeed, the visit of a Zeppelin had struck terror | into the heart of at least one old woman. | “Them there Zett’lins,” she said—*‘ I almost shruk as I heerd the mucky var- | mints a-shovellin’ on the coals—dare! | dare! How my pore heart did beat!” “But they weren’t likely to trouble | you?” I suggested, for she lived in the! wmpow’s open;

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

wa,

_—

SS oS es <5 wane Special (to Citizen retired for the night, whom he has called up). ‘‘ YouR GROUND-FLOOR AND Now I MUST REPORT YOU FOR SHOWING TOO MUCH LIGHT.”

| centre of three isolated single-room | = : ieee cottages dedicated to the poor. |“‘like a covey of But the old lady thought “them|innards broke loose”—not an inapt | Jarmans”’ turesque little dwellings for the homes! sonal recollections to draw on. of the gentry. So she crept for safety,| Another inhabitant, with a face as she said, into her next-door neighbour's | expressionless as the “turmots” he bed o’ nights, for she dasn’t sleep alone. | was hoeing, informed me that he had The German frightfulness had struck | two boys fighting. ‘One on ’em is in home here right enough, which would} France, wherever that might be,” he doubtless bring much joy to the Teuton lsaid, “and Jimmy’s in that hare old bosom, were it known. Dardelles.” This, be it noted, is a land A bomb from the Zeppelin had | of contractions, and the old inhabitant dropped near the church, which it lit|invariably clips out of recognition the up. An onlooker informed me that it | names of familiar places. “fared to him like the body of the} “When did the elder go out?” I chach a-floatin’ away—that it did and|asked. “I can’t rightly say,” he replied all! It made a clangin’,” he added, | after much cogitation, “but it might be

: : he lorries with their might mistake these pic-| description to one who had some per- | | the local calendar usually staris from |a yare ago come muck-spreadin’.” The word “ muck,” like the article itself, is of universal application in Norfolk, and that odoriferous season. On condoling once with a young woman, wearily waiting for her defaulting lover, I saw tears in her eyes as she said, “ We girls are just so much muck; we have to wait till the men come and cart us away.” A Belgian family had been imported into the locality, though since removed. I inquired if they were liked. ‘“ Well enough,” was the answer, “ but they only spoke that hare Blemish, which in course no one could rightly under- stand.”

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348 THE WATCH DOGS. XXVII. My pEAR CHARLES,—You are not to assume from this long interval of silence that I have conceived a sudden dislike for you. So long as you con- tinue to purvey cigarettes I shall always love you, and for all that I have bettered myself by moving from a platoon to an army I am still not proud. I don’t know exactly how my change of situation got started, but I know that the affair was conducted through the “usual channels.” Have you ever met the “ usual channels,” my friend ? Have you ever tried to correspond from the bottom to the top of the military machine? If you want to experience the sensation, you had better take the | first opportunity ; there aren’t many wars long enough for the purpose. I incline to think that the fellow who first started my affair, light- | |with a note, “For your information, ‘guidance and necessary action.” No ‘* please,” mark you! read the correspondence right through, starting from the top and working down to the bottom. From the chaos only one thing at all definite emerged : this Lieutenant whom all the trouble was about would eventually have to report to someone. The never-to-be- forgotten maxim of the advertisement occurred to me: “ Dorr Now!” But to whom to report? The Adjutant being out of the question, I thought of our regimental Quartermaster, a kindly and intelligent man; I reported to him. He told me that on these occasions there were two alternatives only, the one being to read from the bottom to the top, the other not to read at all. | to Providence or the process of attrition Being then a child in these matters I | dicated to an orderly the direction in | ‘and made out a list of further likely {[Ocroner 27, 1915, the engine, wished me luck, and left it to effect the necessary halt. A fortu- nate skid brought me to a standstill at my proper destination, and, having in- which the bicycle was proceeding when I last saw it, I brushed the mud off me and looked about. Above all else, a notice-board with Camp Commandant printed across it made an irresistible appeal to me. ‘He fixed me up with a billet and a mess and then took steps to get rid of me. I explained, with sub- mission, that to go now only meant to come back and report again later, so he settled down to the matter victims for my relentless persecution. For the future he strongly recommended | I asked him to name the likeliest. He the latter; in the present instance he | put his money on the “G” Office, as | Was not concerned and didn’t propose| being the most recent indentors for heartedly coining the now immortal|to be. There’s no getting round Quar- text, “Lieut. Henry, transfer, pro-|termasters, so I went along to the posed for, of,” has lived to regret his} nearest rail-head to do some more re- folly, and that the only reason why | porting there. I got in touch with the I am left where I am is that all con-| R.T.O., and, ignoring his air of detach- cerned eventually got so tired with the| ment, I kept in touch with him till process of getting me up from a platoon | lunch-time, stood him a good meal and to an army that none could be induced to take the pains to get me back from the army to another platoon. Be that as it may, the idea, when first mooted, caught on; it became a vogue. All the people who matter had a dip in it. A.B.C.’s and Assistant A.B.C.’s, X.Y.Z.’s and Deputy X.Y.Z.’s formed the daily habit of bandying my name about amongst them for each other’s information, please; for each other’s guidance, please; for each other’s necessary action, please. No one said, «This correspondence must now cease,” and only I was kept out of it, never so much as a picture-postcard coming / my way. i in existence, Now you may go on increasing correspondence as long as buff slips and indelible pencils hold out, and no | one (in war-time) will say you nay. But the time arrives when the clip becomes unequal to the duty for which it is attached. In my case the papers happened to be in the hands of the Adjutant when the clip struck further work. The Adjutant had not the necessary daring or initiative to divide the bundle in two. There seemed to be nothing to do but to lose the lot and risk being lost himself... and then, by chance, he caught sight of me, which reminded him that the “ Reference” of the minutes and memos was, after all, a ‘reasonable creature, ” capable of bearing its |} own troubles. And so at last the ! ; . | then took him and forced him into my ‘confidence. In his anxiety to work oft ‘some of his own papers on to me he forgot to return the original pile, so I left him without another word, though I should have liked to take him to task for describing me, in my Movement Order, as a “ consignment.” It was now clear to me that, having a movement order, it was up to me t» ‘move. Judging from the pace of the train 7t had no movement order or, at | most, a very slight one. The motto of trains in the zone of the armies is “ J’y suis; 7'y reste.” Passengers have just to sit still and watch themselves being overtaken by battalions on the march, jusing their own judgment to decide whether the train has stopped and, if so, Whether for good or just tempor- arily for a day or so. For my own I was prepared to stay where I part 4 was for eternity, and had nearly done so when I found myself at the town, necessarily ancnymous, at which G.H.Q. resides. is good enough for G.H.Q. is good enough for me, I got out. my long period of rest, I began report- ing again, starting with a Military Policeman and ending with a General, | turned from the front in last winter’s narrow not one of your generals of everyday life but something out of the way. G.H.Q. proposed to put me into another train, but I urged that I was a man with a lot of dependants and not | viewed at St. —— Church, Ealing.” much constitution; so they relented and Feeling that what! . DP ge Poeceg*: > : “>, | bookshelves; contents immaterial if binding Fresh froin | | nibs, blotting-paper and a new chair and table. So I stepped across to the “G” Office, frowned at the orderlies, smiled at the Sergeant-Major, shook hands with the Lieutenants, saluted all the others, and, before I realised the grim horror of it, found myself at work, where I’ve stayed ever since, although you might have supposed that this is war, not work. But it isn’t all in an office, far away from the smoke and dirt. No, there are two great phrases for which the historian of this war will have a rubber stamp; the one is “to circulate,” the other “to function.” But there are advantages in having a home to return toof an evening. And it all has some- thing to do with the War, as I'll hope to show you in my next letter or two. Meanwhile I do wonder what the R.T.O. did about that correspondence. Probably he made a dozen efforts to get it ‘‘ Passed to you, please,” received it back time after time, and eventually in despair set it alight and cast himself into the flames. Yours ever, HENRY. Belles Lettres. ‘* Wanted, well-bound books for library in perfect condition.”’-— The Lady. Trench Uniform. ‘ ‘*‘T really could not face John when he re- skirts obviously widened with unexpected bits put in.”’—Morning Paper. Another Impending Apology. ‘* For sale, 300 good sound sleepers ; may be Middlesex County Times.

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| 5. | | tead. irted | ft it ition ortu- ill at in- nm in vhen 1 off else, dant be 4 ‘ y. tible 4 Tp “UY /y / as = : _ | — | SX LZ ¥ / il Dim A'S 5 = | yf: sub- | Mf eant ater, utter ikely tion. He eC, as ; for shair . the fon rlies, iy a hook Vm, d all 4 the Z ae : vork, ; a W. — ough ca a - A: ; is is . ’ . First Recruit. ‘‘ WHat DO YOU THINK OF THE Major, Biti?” way Second Recruit. ‘‘Hm’s A CHANGEABLE KIND 0’ BLOKE, Last niGHT I says TO ’IM, ‘’OO0 GOES THERE?’ AN’ HE SAYS, ‘FRIEND!’; here AN’ TO-DAY ’E ’ARDLY KNOWS ME.” ‘ the = ; Saeed bber |] carried to the ducal entrance-hall. Here| ‘September Sth.” the | HER GRACE’S HOSPITAL. | I came in contact with the System| “ 5 oo injection ?” are | Whrrx that close secrecy which seems | (with a capital 8S) which dominates the| ‘“ Yes.” turn inseparable from all things military, it |place. A huge ledger, a lady clerk, an} ‘“ Date?” yme- | was not until nearly the end of an all-| assistant lady clerk, an imposing young | “ September 4th.” | I'll day train journey that our destination | officer directed their united efforts on| He looked puzzled. I knew that | otter was divulged tous. It was the Duchess|me. But where was my hostess? 1| would beat him. He didn’t know I'd | of Blankshire’s Hospital, ——. Well, | specially wanted to work in that casual) been wounded on different days. | the that was fitting at least, and I tried to | “My dear Duchess.” I had practised | “The day before the wound ?”’ nce. forget my wounds in framing a suitable | it so well that it would sound as if I “Yes. You see I heard it coming. 3 to greeting to her Grace when she met | used the title every day. | Long range shrapnel, you know.” ‘ived | |me on the platform. “Ah, Duchess,’| ‘“ Name?” said the LY.O. Then they carried me to my ward | iallv I would say, “ but how kind of you to} I told him. and there came to meet ine quite the | nself | come down.” Beyond that I could “Ace?” youngest thing in nurses you could | make no progress. I decided to leave} ‘ Twenty-eight.” imagine. She looked about sixteen, | Y. the rest to the inspiration of the| ‘ Regiment?” but I suppose she was more as they moment. The last hour was an Irish} ‘“ Sixth Blankshires.”’ don’t let them loose so early. She had mile, and by the time I reached 1 “Ah, Territorials,” he said, as if a) pencil on lip, paper in hand, and withal my strength, temper, patience and} wounded Territorial was not quite the|a serious and inquiring look on her —e courtesy were utterly exhausted. Ij same as a wounded soldier. — _ |round face. ; 7 was carried out and into the ambu-| “ Well, I have T. on my tunic, haven't} “Oh, what’s the matter with you?” lance. All sense of decency was then|I?” I snapped. she asked, as if expecting me to say | | thoroughly shaken out of me, and [| “Yes, yes,” he said hastily and con- | had fallen off a lorry or tried conclu- 10 re- was brought to the door of the Hospital | fused. “ Age?” sions with a taxi. I looked at her LrrOW thirsting for someone’s blood. And} “Still twenty-eight. I'll let you|solemnly as I explained: “I've got 1 bits the Duchess hadn’t come to the station. know the minute I have a birthday.” | wounded in this War that’s going on— She must have been misinformed about} ‘“ Where are you wounded ?” against Germany, you know.” It was | the train. I prepared to talk down her| “ Head, back, thigh, calf, foot.” perhaps too bad. She was covered ay be | apologies. “Not at all, my dear [ was taking no risks of clumsy with confusion. Duchess ; how could you tell?” ete. handling from orderlies. The large ward was glittering white. | 8. Taken out of the ambulance I was| ‘“ Date?” | Graceful girls moved about and looked

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350 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Octoper 27, 1915. | | - ot tLe edly hi ai fiatan i “i ha ji iF | it ty | I! | i Hf | j | r | H iM AD Vj yi) ‘i a. ail lil | it f Vt} i | Hi ow F \ ih | Ae Wee dl A VAN (SA \ | Ms | | Yy 3 i | i 4 i } it | ait ed) esse | See ep 5 ii ~ | Tele, ia if : = x as = ‘ = = | “T SUPPOSE THAT OLD GENTLEMAN’S AWF’LY AFRAID OF BEING RUN OVER. D’ you sEE, Mummy? HE’s GOT HIS KERBS WHITENED.” quite busy. Then one in blue-and- white came to me and smiled. She asked about my wounds. Nothing _could have been more soothing than her eyes—blue and clear. I sank in them for a bit and then she melted away into dreamland... “You see it was this way, Duchess,” I was saying over a cigar as we sat together on the verandah after din- ner... ‘Time to get washed,” said a fierce voice in my slumbers. Yes, it was full of system. It took / me two hours and five different appli- | cations to get some soap and water outside the routine. was a triumph. But I got it. It Then the curtains. | They must all be puiled to one parti- cular side. I got mine put in the _ middle for the sake of my eyes. All day long I recited to each successive rectifier of the curtain how the light hurt my eyes. Of course I was asleep sometimes and they got it put right. Then it appeared that one’s nose must | be in line with the centre fold of the bed mat. I was glad I had a straight nose. On the following afternoon, when I was feeling a little exhausted after many | curtain, pillow and blanket disagree- ments, there came a lady with a friendly she'll make a point of going to the greeting. I didn’t see what her job was, so I said sternly and suspiciously, ** Have you been here before?” ‘Oh, yes,” she said cheerfully, “I’m often here.” “But have you come to see me before?” “Yes, I have,” she answered. Then I saw her eyes. Splosh! Was in again right over the ears. | ‘Yes, I remember you now,” I said dreamily ; “you were dressed in blue. It suits you better. Won’t you always come in blue?” | ‘Well, I’ll think about it,” ‘she ‘laughed. ‘“ How are things going?” | “Oh, not badly at all, but of course |in some minor matters I could tell the | Duchess how to improve things.” “Tell me,” she smiled. ‘‘ Well, she didn’t come to meet me | yesterday, and wasn’t even in the hall. |Of course it may have been the War Office that was to blame. They do say KITCHENER is very busy these days.” “That was too bad; but hasn't she been to see you since?”’ * No,” I said gloomily. I “Well, next time you’re wounded station, I’m sure. Now, what else?”’ “Well, these plates are made so that they spin round and round on the tray, making it difficult, if not impossible, to eat with one hand. You see, you can’t | corner the stuff with your fork.” And I told her many things of equal im- portance. “Allright. I must fly now, but I'll not forget anything youve said.” “ Nurse, who was that?” I said when she had gone. “Oh, that’s the Duchess of Blank- | shire,” answered the daughter of . K.C. | I turned over and groaned. And I hadn't managed to work in “ My dear Duchess” at all. Still, it’s not every- body who has told her Grace of Blankshire, on an acquaintanceship of a few moments, that she looks best in blue. ‘* Young Lady Wanted immediately, to take | child of 3 to walk from 9.80 to eleven and from two to five.’’—Morning Paper. She must be in good condition, too, or the infant will over-walk her.

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om PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Ocroper 27, 1915. =—— —_— — + a ; So SSS. Bard SII Pectid A

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| Ds | OcToBER 27, 1915.] ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. (EXTRACTED FROM THE Diary oF Topsy, M.P, House of Commons, Tuesday, October 19th.—Of a hundred and twenty-one Questions on the Paper twenty-five addressed to PrimE MINIsTER. Covered various controversial points. Put down chiefly by his nominal supporters, the Providences that sit below Gangway and look after the higher welfare of poor P.M. Seemed to promise lively interlude. PREMIER would either snub his esteemed but inquisitive fol- lowers, or he would make statements on a succession of important problems. The unexpected happened, as it not infrequently does in House of Com- mons. Of all men Henry HERBERT on the sick list, he who Premier beats the record in length of time for not having been absent a single day from work owing to illness. HANDEL Boorn disconsolate. Ground out mournful note of inquiry as to how long Premier likely to be absent and whether meanwhile M1nisTER oF Mvun1 TIONS, man of leisure upon whose hands time hangs heavily, might not under- take to gratify patriotic curiosity of Members below Gangway by replying to miscellaneous inquiries. the 1s as SPEAKER did not know how long LEADER OF Howse likely to be away. Could only hope “the time would be very short.” General cheer expressed concurrence with this desire. Bad time just now for the captain to be off the bridge Carson another absentee at Question time. When Colonel Sir F. E. Surru, having doffed his khaki, presented him self to reply for ArrorNEY-GENERAL he was greeted by hilarious cheer. Being inarticulate its prec ise meaning was left undefined. Understood to be “ Ha! Ha! We know all about what has happened in the Cabinet during the last ten days, and why CARSON, most amiable, unassertive of men, could stick it no longer. Questions disposed of, House got into Bill. As usual real business thus entered upon served \niud Committee on Budget as signal for emptying of House bustle of departure Herr GiInneLn came to front with motion to exclude lreland from imposition of ‘Tea Duty. Geniatly announced intention to move analogs amendment im respect of subsequen clau CS Pht pOosthip for \\ at put Post > how tuxes or increase of duty lreland in Summed up sittation in pregnant sentence. Most of the money raised by these taxes imposed upon lreland was, he said, spont tn Mngeland on production of munitions of wat lryal, in absence of employment tha brought about, young lrishimen we PUNCH, OR THE compelled to enlist and fight for young | Englishmen who stayed at home and worked in the munition factories. Facts not precisely accurate ; in re- spect of rules of logic argument faulty. 3ut Committee felt that Herr GINNELL had more nearly hit nail on head than »” Where on earth is CARSON ? Sir F. E. Sirx. is his | bit when he, not infrequently, takes hammer in hand. Bus Budget Bill in Com- mittee. Procedure marked by incident, long unfamiliar, of divisions. No fewer than three taken, minority numbering 20, 26 and 36. In accordance with im- Cabinet Minister, With léss Gone. ln succession Wednesday memorial custom a having resigned his connection LONDON CHARIVARLI. the Gove rmment and being desirous 0 expl ai ning his motive, Gangway-end of behind that seats himself a Bench immediately where his tormer Ccol- leagues sit. Thence, thirty-five ye ago, W. E. Forster rose, driven out of office by the untiring animosity of the Parnellites. Later in the same year JoHN Bricut resigned the imp« oftice now held by ARTISTIK sToN, and from this corner seat ex- plained inability to agree with his colleagues in that British intervention in Egyptian affairs which has pt an untold blessing tyrant-ridden impoverished race. Epwarp Carson, Attorney-Generalship and withd irom Cabinet, made to-day u record. Returning to old quar Front Opposition Bench, he th Truthful James, 66 A ready, practised speaker, he this solemn occasion did not trust him- the yea +r tO a } having esigned rawno rose to explain. self to make a speech. He read RY paper. Essay composed in excellent taste. Not a word of argument or criticism, much less of recrimination Paid personal tribute to un of Prime MINISTER. suggest that his views about Easter n ~~ = , possit LV cou with those of men who have more experience and greater wi dealing with such sit: courtesy not difficulties arising of war might theatre pares much sdom in \t same in lAlLONS time they were “very st 1wlv held, conscientiously and patriotically In such cireumstances he thought his continuance in office would be rat! a source of weakness than of strengt Therefore he had withdrawn Outburst of applause that greeted his rising was confined to political friends on Opposition Benches. On resuming his seat a general chee paid tribute to the excellent tone and temper of his remarks. Business done.—Sat up in C tee on Budget Bill till a quarter past one in the morning. The stage s un finished. l vursday. Fresh und-ery alter the anonymous but immortal Censor who has been severely sub-editing Ku LING and Brownine. House partic larly anxious to know whet t be possible that this ce \ 3 produced two such ge ses Dic ie with Kipuine, whilst the o wckle BROWNING? Or was one mighty mind equal to both t phs ' tloa SECRETARY, alike ca ; L agile would not commit himself o 3 po Really couldn't say; be ed ere might be two of them Business done.—Postal and Teleg uph Rates Bill went through Co: iLtee, was reported and read a third |

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354 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. ——- Patient. ‘‘I Ger LUMBAGO AWFULLY BADLY, DocrTor. Doctor. ‘‘ WevL, I ovGHT TO KNOW SOMETHING ABOUT IT. I’VE BEEN A MARTYR TO IT ALL MY LIFE.”’ {[Ocroper 27, 1915. | | . { } f| A H 9} Ce == feos Bigs lls ¢-- ilo par eB 5. “ F% i éy y i és E j Aeetnnnenc arn nner caee natin a ne to RB LNRM ORO AMON he co) | Be, | | Stony f Hehste | Do you THINK YOU CAN DO ANYTHING FOR ME?’’ AT THE FRONT. Ir you should happen to get into one of these wars and someone tells you to take over a farm, don’t you have it without a character. You've got no idea how farms vary. There is the Never-been-crumped kind, and the Not-been-crumped-for- months kind, and the May-be-crumpeds, and Will-probably-be-crumpeds, and the Sure-to-be-crumpeds. If on in- quiry you find that the farm they are trying to cajole you into belongs to either of the last two classes, you will do well to send on an advance party with a ton of gun-cotton and then or to apply for a transfer to the Volun- tary Munition-Workers’ Guild, On the other hand you may enjoy in the healthier types an epoch of sylvan peace. Dead Spy Farm is in the second class. Except that we have to supply working parties of one hundred-and-fifty nightly—which is a difficult sort of trick to bring off with a garrison of one hundred-and-three— we are left undisturbed to the contem- plation of autumn tints. Whoever the deceased spy was, he report farm non-existent on arrival ; | had some taste in farms. His moat is| an object lesson in how much duck- weed you can get in without crowding out all the water. Round the moat jruns an avenue of trees in “ Fall suit- ings” that recall the glories of Addison’s Walk. The buildings themselves are portly, circumstantial and four-square, as all good farms are. There is a garden—not all it used to be—a well, and three cats, sole representatives of the late tenant. The mushrooming and ratting are satisfactory, and recent bags include a moorhen and a foreign-| looking cat suspected of espionage. | The whole intact, except for three shell | holes and portions of window glass. Talking about working parties, there is a report that our battalion is to be | sent to some other country where there is still good digging to be had. Here-| abouts digging resembles the ploughing | of some immemorial field; one rather wonders whether there is anything about the original trenches in Dooms- day Book or Magna Charta. Take F. 107. We first knew IF. 107 as an unrevetted communication trench with a sandbag floor. A brigade fatigue traversed and foothoarded it and ealled it “King’s Road.” An R.E. party d.opped in one night with firing-steps, and altered the name to “ King’s Castle.” Three days later it rained for ten minutes and the sides fell in, and it was known as “The Marsh” and officially disused, until one day a very high sort of officer came round the lines and said all disused trenches in the system must be reclaimed. This order was not popular, as it would have entailed the prolonging of the War to about 1977. However, we began on “ The Marsh” and laboured bitterly sixteen nights with hurdles and sandbags, and piles for the footboards, and called it “ Half-done Terrace,” to immortalise a sound beginning. The immortalisation lasted a fortnight, when a new official programme of the trenches fixed it until further notice as F. 107. Now we are fitting it with model dug- outs. Of course the trench is not occupied, but it may be some day, and in the meantime it is bad for the troops ito be idle. This affair of picks and shovels has interested us as proving that the Angels who retreated from Mons are not the only ineident in the War that defies normal explanation. It happened that on a certain Tuesday there came a eee as nc an

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» “ a Ocroper 27, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 855 (te; 7 yi! Ig WY) iy V/, YY Ti 7 = Z 5X ) =~ 70 4 ‘4 y>.3 ~~ * N8 WS We 4% Corporal (before entering the trenches). ‘‘ Now, Look ’ERE. I’M RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS SECTION, AND IF ANY OF YER GETS IT IN THE NECK THROUGH FOOLISHLY EXPOSIN’ OF ’ISSELF—I’LL GIVE HIM WOT FOR.” wire to the Company requesting an i pany q TRANSIT. Another Impending Apology. : weasel ee SIC pene ged a Garden We "re se but living Greece no| ee ee eee, oe . ; 4 canes =o ; ’ 5 —-- had to complete her last song in reported. Later, on the same day, came more.” | darkness, and two other items on the pro- a second wire request.ng a report of all So sang her Poet, loving well gramme had to be deleted. No one was hurt.” tools on Company charge. We re-| That Hellas of the days of yore, Manchester Guardian. reported. On Wednesday morning, By whom the Persian despot fell, gs ‘ arrived a wire explaining that Refer-| Whose puissant sword at Marathon “NIGHT CLUBS. ence No. 19 of Tuesday report was! Of its own prowess Freedom won. | Bint Inrropucep By tHe Home Secretary.” not required after all. We were very i ” ae Pm ey 5 ; a relieved to hear this. On Wednesday | He sang; she woke—too fall'n in pride | We certainly think that one of Bill's afternoon we received a message re- lo strive unaided—still she woke; | less exalted pals would have sutfliciently And England, Russia, France, allied, served the purpose. Brake from her neck the Turkish yoke: At Navarino’s glorious Bay On Hellas dawned a second Day. questing an immediate report to Head- quarters of all tools on Company charge. This time we were roused and had the message repeated. They very kindly From an auction advertisement :— ‘Grand piano in rosewood case, fine 'cello repeated it. We re-re-reported. At | by Filius Antonii Fasiebat.’’—Surrey Comet. 7 P.M. we received a wire cancelling | Lo, a new curse—the Teuton bane! \* What may I say, gentlemen, for this demand for report on tools. The Com- Again rings out the trumpet-call ; fine instrument by the celebrated maker, pany Commander did not go sick,) France, Russia, England, joined again, | Alonehedidit ?” however, until Thursday morning, when| For Freedom fight, for Greece, for all ; | : ’ _ a wire arrived: “ Reference No. 7 of And Greeee—shall she that call ignore ? | Cherchez la Femme. Wednesday: why have you not re-| Then is she living Greece no more! | (2 qifeiioes on datten Gurvies. ie wes ported 2” Sa —_——————— stated in the Divorce Court yesterday to have Super-Patriots, Commercial Modesty. eng wale Ae F ~ 2 ame Pam "% “A season of French plays was opened at the “a Steak and Kidney Pies. Our bread is And all this ti | b bl , ‘ ’ . M } ” " ps ‘ : , ave vay ) noe Court Theatre last night in the presence of an | generally good also And a this time we have been bhuming Anglo-English audience.’",—Morning Paper. | Adrt. in ‘* Cape Times,” the KAISER.

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| 396 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVART

AT THE PLAY. “Tris INTERVENES.” WitHovur wishing to boast, I may say that I have never lived in a house _ with a hedge only three-and-a-half feet high to screen me from my neighbour’s | garden. Perhaps that is why I have | never been on really intimate terms | (such as would be encouraged by | this lack of privacy) with any Russian | lady who has done time for knifing | her husband and retreated to a | British suburb to give her reputa- 'tion a rest. I am not therefore in a position to say whether Jris Olga Iranovna, as depicted by Mr. Joun Hastines TuRNER, was true to type. But if one who is no judge of these exotics may hazard an opin- ion she seemed to me to have her farcical moments. And I could well understand how her tempestu- ous intrusion into the next-door | household, which contained, among other strange things, a morbidly impressionable youth, would con- vulse Mr. Henry Cumbers, a thorough-paced épicier, with a fixed “standard” of morality and a par- ticular horror of necks exposed to the eye of day. And indeed she was a bird of so rare a plumage that she might easily have astonished a man of riper experience and more open mind. For in addition to a ravish- ing beauty, to whose seductive and troublous quality she was never tired of alluding, she claimed a record of unsullied virtue; and, if you questioned it, she was on you like a tigress. Cumbers, for one, threw doubt upon her past, and the play is the story of his pun- ishment. After her first fury, she was content to stimulate the infatuation of the weedy stripling, his son; but this was too easy fruit, and she turned to a more difficult and noble revenge. A certain precious document containing the design of a new motor car had been lodged, for reasons that carried no sort of conviction, in the keeping of Cumbers. On its safety depended his career and the fulfilment of an ambition which embraced a residence in Kensington— no less. Over the dividing hedge, to whose inadequacy I have referred, she was witness of the theft of these papers and set herself to recover them. The | breakdown of her pursuing car entailed | a night in the sole society of Cumbers on the open Dover Road. Out of | this enforced intimacy a mutual under- | standing was born. “ You never get to know one another,” said Jris, in one

| of her rare lapses into probability, “till | of restrained and confident muscularity.! and Lord Camber, a handsome and something ridiculous happens.” Her

tears of genuine distress (it was Cum- bers’ one human weakness that he could not stand a woman’s tears) moved him to sympathy: They exchanged confidences. From him she learned that, however narrow a man’s preju- dices, if he can inspire trust in his fellows he has achieved something. And she knew that she had never inspired trust in the men that had come under her spell. By her, in turn, he was taught that the devotion of his wife deserved a better reward than the proprietary tyranny with which he repaid it. And so all ended well. The document was recovered; Cumbers, his night-out explained, returned to a chastened

: I) } <= S| aN thoi ten Henry Cumbers (Mr. A. E. Grorcr) to Iris (Miss Lena ASHWELL). might be worse. We’re well on into the Third Act, and haven’t had any Zeppelins so far.” ‘*Come, come, don’t cry. appreciation of his wife’s merits; and Iris married a fellow-countryman, who, if he knew her too well to put a very perfect trust in her, had biceps enough to control her explosions at need. Miss Lena AsHWELt played Jris with a most contagious vivacity, and carried off the preposterousness of everything with a delightful assurance. Mr. A. E. GeorGE, in the part of Cumbers, was too bearish at first in the family circle ; but his human qualities came out in the end. Miss May Wurrry as his wife was human all the time. Sound work was done by Mr. Henry Deas, whose utter- ances were stuffed with American slang to the point of congestion; by Miss AurioL Ler, whose appearance, much too fleeting, gave distinction to the part environment; and by Mr.Owen Rovuau- woop, [ris’s betrothed, who was a model Mr. Turner has a promising gift of

i) WA vf / Things

| noteworthy if it had not been for Nurse of a suburban lady a little above her| Yorke, who loved our too preoccupied l ar ; “ ° ° | Napier besides helping him to manu- humour, but now and then a preten- tious epigram showed that he had not | escaped the snare of young euthors. | One of these days he may give us a good character play, or a good farce or | a good melodrama. Even this medley | of all three had many attractions. It is most regrettable that his first | production should have collided with | the Zeppelin season. It was no fault | of his or of the players that the audience | was sosmall. For myself, I took com- | fort in the thought that the moon was | nearing her full circle; that Artemis, in fact, as well as her sister Olympian, Iris, was “intervening.” O. S. “THe Case oF Lapy CAMBER.” Lady Camber’s case, though it very nearly came to the Old Bailey, in actual fact got no farther than the nursing home run by Harley Napier, F.L.C.S., in Brook Street, | for titled people who had lost weight (which made me wonder where his surgical qualifications came in; had his patients needed their weight reducing I should, of course, have understood at once). Now this Napier was a strenuous fellow; he had a “life-work.” In addition to the fattening of the leaner aristocracy by his novel (surgical?) methods, he had con- trived to solve a problem which has engaged the attention of ambitious experts all down the ages. He had discovered halene, a poison with- out taste, colour, odour or re- action. Apparently all he did with it was to give it the place of honour in his poison cupboard for Mr. VacHELL to hang his tale on. A friendly fellow too. I have invari- ably found medical men strangely reticent about the technique of their craft, which cannot always have been due to ignorance. But Napier was always delighted to postpone any im- portant weight-producing operation or to leave a patient like Lady Camber in the article of death to the attentions of the obviously inadequate Sir Bed- ford Slufter, I’.2.C.P., in order to explain the precise properties of his entirely irrelevant invention halene, or to prophesy with regard to his patients exactly and in highly technical terms what would happen if all went well. When it didn’t, with superb resources he would hand his case to Slufter, who would promptly lose it. All of which would not have been

facture halene and mismanage his cases;

capricious villain who had once sug-

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15, | Octoner 27, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 357 eten- { not | hors | us a ce or} | odley | | first | with | fault | ence 20m- Ai ! | was | | Ni mis, | " \ iil | Nan, | LM Zee S. G ay | h it iley, | shan | » rley reet, | lost | ider ions ded 1, of e). lous In the = On- has THE USES OF A ZEPPELIN. ious SOcIAL BARRIERS BROKEN DOWN. had a en en ra a Eoin = ith- gested to Esther Yorke a liaison as the piece, without purple patches. Mr. with a better grace than his friend. re- price of some service. he had done her.! Honrman Crark, as Sir Bedford, adroitly Mr. BEN Wesster, as Lord Camber, vith .| Why, after having the nerve to ask’ suggested that he could lose a patient performed the always clever feat of our this young lady of birth, breeding and making a strictly unreasonable part Mr. beauty to be his mistress, he should appear plausible. A conscientious and A thereafter have been so unworldlywise finished piece of playing. Miss JEssir ari- as to make an impossible dancer his | WinTER’s Esther Yorke was well studied ely wife no sort of adequate suggestion is and charmingly accomplished. Miss leir offered; nor why, even after his wel- Lesuig Sruart made a diflicult Lady een come release from Lady Camber at the Camber possible and likeable. Clever vas hands of Slufter, Napier and Nurse Miss Potim Emery’s Peach, the 'm- Yorke, he so decidedly refuses ever to dresser, was a treasure of broad (but or consider the question of marrying that not unsubtle) characterisation. If Miss in entirely attractive young lady, but | Kats BisHop wasn’t at her clever best ns merely repeats his insulting sugges- I think that was Mr. Vacnetu’s fault, ed- tion. A complex character, our Camber. who had dealt hardly with the part. to | Napier is also complex. Not till he But on the whole authors and players his | | suspects Hsther Yorke of murder (this is make an excellent case. «id or where halene comes in; she keeps the nts | key, of the poison cupboard) does he ms | begin to love her. The proof forth The Gods and some Mortals. all. | coming that Lady ;Camber's death is “The German authorities have resumed he | due to entirely natural and professional traffic se Easements, but instead ol the swo ’ . - . valuable steam ferries withdrawn on the 4th ho | causes, Esther and Napier are united test. two obd cheamnere have been hired fer and halene goes back to the shelf. Here-3€™ | gods and the other for passengers.”’ en The play was admirably cast. You A VERY SOFT ANSWER. Shetland News. rse could well believe Mr. H. B. Irnvina} Dr. Napier (Mr. H. B. Irvine). “ You’ve, A yery proper distinction. ‘ed Was a distinguished surgeon and poison helped to kill the log oe = to mention » ° ° YD on: oO , le y* ) re ue manufacturer; he is artist enough to i, he ee pn Rg Wisek toes oon ageing Me “Every class of we Britishers have our 1S; play no pranks with his challenging per- | yourself 2” ’ ; peculiarities in forms of speech."” — nd sonality, and his reward is the smooth |* Esther Yorke (Miss Jesste WINTER). I a Grimsby Daily Telegraph. g- and balanced performance of the whole think you're simply splendid.” | And this is a very good example.

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358 LONDON CHARIVARL [Ocroner 27, 1915, PUNCH, OR THE UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER. No. XXIX, (From the King of the HELLENE:S.) My pear Wii1i1AmM,—I think you are pressing me a little too hard. You must remember what my situation is. The mass of my people have no love whatever for your people or for the Austrians. That may strike you as being both strange and deplorable, for I know what your opinion is of the mild virtues and superlative attractiveness of the Germans, and how firmly you believe that all these virtues and all this attractiveness, with ten thousand other glorious and lovable qualities, are concentrated and embodied in yourself. I have often noticed how angry it makes you to be told that somebody doesn’t like you, and your sister Soruie has often warned me that in your presence I must pretend to believe that you are universally beloved, not merely on account of your splendour and power and wealth, but rather and chiefly because of your own innate goodness and geniality and benevolence. “If they won’t like me,” I have heard you say, “I shall certainly smash them; and if they keep on not liking me [ shall only smash them more and more.” That is one way, certainly, of ensuring your popularity, though I am not convinced that it is always a very elflicacious way. You tried it in Belgium, and the only result, so far as I have been able to judge, has been to make the Belgians detest you with a hatred which it will take years to mitigate and centuries to abolish. -And, even when centuries shall have passed, I can imagine how some Belgian of the future will point out to a stranger the runs and the graveyards which are the country’s monuments and will explain to him how they were caused by an Emperor who had a passion for popu- larity and chose this method of gratifying it. Remember when I speak in this way I am not expressing my own personal opinions so much as those of any detached | and impartial observer, and it is with him that you must be angry rather than with me. For my own part, since I married into your family I have tried to live a quiet life by schooling inyself to think of you as you think of yourself. I cannot say it was an easy task, for, to tell you the truth, you are, like caviare, something of an acquired taste, and the palate inust be educated to relish you. Whether I have arrived at that perfect and enthusiastic liking which you seem to demand I cannot say, but I know I have done iny best, and some gratitude is due to me. But at present, as I say, you are pressing me a little too hard. VeEntzeLos—forgive me for mentioning his name was supported by a majority in the country and in the Chamber. He was determined to act the part of honourable man and to regard also the honour and the interest of his country by carrying out the provisions of our treaty with Serbia. I intervened and dismissed him froin his post as Prime Minister, and appointed in his place a man who would be willing to stan:l by with folded arms while Serbia, the heroic but unfortunate, was crushed to the earth by yourself and the false brigand of Bulgaria whom you had suborned for your purpose. All this 1 have done against the will of my people, not knowing from day to day how long I might be able to hold them in hand, since they are a gallant people and have a clear sense of justice. Therefore you must not press any further, for a throne in these days is an unsteady structure for those who would attempt to secure themselves in it by imitating the autocratic methods of a German Kaiser and War Lord. Be satisfied with the allies you have—with FrRDINAND the fox of the Balkans, and with Turkey the ruthless assassin of the Armenian nation. Your affectionate Brother-in-law, an me to “7 ,O TINO, THE WOES OF A WOUNDED. Tur Hazarps oF Home. THEY said, “ You will not mind the Zeppelin Who know so well the sound of iron shards ; You will not blench when breakages begin Who stood to battle with the Sunran’s Guards.” But they were wrong. And when the guns went off, And undeterred the sausages came on, While gay civilians bustled out to scoff And happy crowds occurred in Kensington, I said, “ For these intrepid citizens It’s well enough to carry on like this; They view through habit’s minimising lens The menaced doom of their Metropolis ; “ But to an officer who only knows The milder dangers of the Dardanelles, It is too evident that foes are foes, And these old bombs much worse than many shells. «Shells are so sensible, for from afar, Shrill sibilants, they make their onset plain ; You hop into a hole, and there you are (And there, indeed, you probably remain) ; “ While here, it seems, with mute ungoverned sweeps Rude bolts in "buses bruise you unaware, Or, at the least, unpulverised one creeps Home to his house—to find it is not there. “ T liked the Turk’s humane terrestrial bomb, Which decent cricketers would cateh with ease, And hurtle it back with cover-point’s aplomb ; [ should not like to try it on with these. “]T am no coward; but the days are done When English soldiers perished in a square ; And here L cannot even hurt the Hun; [ think I should be happier elsewhere. “ And when it’s whispered that the gashag brings To many a mild unmilitary clod A sudden zeal to join the strife of Kings— The news is nice, but it is searcely odd. “ Blessed, indeed, | deem the soldier's lot In happier hazards far across the foam ; I doff my hat to those who seize it not, The staunch dare-devil souls who stay at home.” The New ‘ Treating” Order. You must always “take the meal with the malt.” ‘¢*F inp THE WomaAN,’ followed by ‘A Parr or KNicKERBOCKERS, Which Mr. Arthur Bourchier will appear.” Manchester Evening News. And very nice he will look in them, we feel sure. ‘The jabile d received a Green gentleman who handed his Majesty an autograph letters hduiburgh Evening News. King of Bulgaria recently Themustoklis, from King Coustantine.” We understand that this is not the first interview of the | kind that Frerpinanp has given in the course of his negotiations with the Powers. Immediate result of the meeting held in London to advocate reprisals upon helpless German women : ‘* Our artillery in the parties.’’—k ime region dispersed the eneinies’ working ening News, |

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ells. an ters he | his | of us who have the good fortune | be reminded of the great problem of presents. OcToBerR 27, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 36 $¢P Our s 7 m7 *, OUR BOOKING-OFFICE, (By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learn ALREADY Christmas is not far below the hori to be uncles will shortly ~“l Clerks.) zon, and those It is safe to suppose that the pictorial wrapper that covers The Book of the Thin Red Line (Lonamans) will attract many eyes. The volume within it could hardly be bettered as a present for a British boy. In his pleasant preface Sir Henry Newsorr explains that, although the stories of six great soldiers which comprise the book ave historically true, he has “tried to tell them as adventures.” No one certainly need be afraid of dulness in these heart-stirri which from the exploits of Robert gazetted ensign to the 28th when he was fifteen, to those of STONEWALL JACKSON, concerning whom the chaplain’s prayer at the unveiling of his monument ended with the tribute quoted here: “When in Thine inscrutable decree it was ordained that the Confederacy should fail, it necessary for Thee to remove Thy servant, SToNewAti Jackson.” Briefly, this is a book of real heroes, written in precisely the way to appeal to the her whom it is intended. Not the least of young and old will be the spirited illustrations in colom and line by Mr. Stantey L. Woop. There especially, of the charge of the Scots Greys at Waterloo, so full of the spirit of battle that I shall be astonished if countless schoolrooms do not award it the thumb-mark of highest popularity. A most timely book. records, ring range BLAKENEY, becan e worshippers for p} its charms for lads Is One picture I suppose there can be few men more fitly placed for the AFTER THE DRIVE. Tommy (used to targets, acting as loader to unsuccessful offi er), “Exct SE ME, SIR, BUT HOW DO YOU KNOW WHEN YOU'VE MADE AN ‘iT?” | composition of a volume of entertaining gossip than Mr. Lesure Warp. Therefore it is only natural that his book, Forty Years of “ Spy” (CHatto anp Winpvs) is as pleasant a collection of cheery and amusing memories as any that |this reminiscent age has provided. For forty years Mr, |} Warp has been the observant chiel’ in English society, taking notes of its prominent members—a chiel’ not only observant but witty, as the stories in the present prove. It is a work of which quite impossible. One can but mention that it contains repro ductions of dozens of Mr. Warp’s most drawings With in many cases some apt and illuminating anecdote about the subjects—victims, the author usually calls them. As an instance of his own sly turn of humour, I liked especially the comment that accompanies a ; pleasant sketch of Miss Curistapen Pankucrst: “1 did not discuss the subject in which she was so absorbed by adverse criticism I might disturb the charm of expres- sion I found in her face.”’ f he ( k LO to criticism 15S Tamous Chere surely speaks the perfect | gentle caricaturist. Elsewhere we find a wonderful store of recollections about every kind of celebrity—human, I Was going to say, and divine; certainly the markably well represented, Bishops in their shovel hats being (in the words of W. S. GILBERT, concerning by the way, there is that rarest thing now, a quite story) plentiful as tabby cats. Clubs, colleges, and ments are equally reviewed, not to mention distinguished (there is a delightful f ‘ iforeigners and dramatists {CHARLES BROOKFIELD trying to persuade the editor of 7 | Lancet to publish a Christmas number)—in short, every phase of social life has yielded material for this most witty jand welcome espionage.

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| | the first person by Lady Peggy — | at which I could see the authors 360 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVART. [OcroBER 27, 1915, As, being an American, he would no doubt have put it himself, you have got to hand it to Major Sidney Vandyke. | He certainly hit on one of the most ingenious dodges for | | getting rid of a rival in love, and at the same time putting | himself ace-high (as he would also have expressed it) with the loved one, that I have ever encountered in fiction. There was trouble between the United States and Mexico. American guns were at El Paso, Texas, their muzzles pointing across the Rio Grande, ready for trouble if it should come. The situation was tense and a single injudi- cious act would precipitate war. In command of these guns was Major Vandyke; under hiin his rival, Captain Eagleston March. The Major sent the Captain an order to fire the guns. No sooner was it done than he appeared, raging; denied having ever given the order, and made a spectacular dash across the river to soothe the Mexicans by explaining that it was alla mistake. Major Vandyke was thus a hero who had averted war. Captain March was either a knave or a fool who had nearly caused it. dismissed the Service, and Lady Diana O'Malley married the 2= Major. That is the kernel of Secret History (METHUEN), the new novel by C. N. and A. M. WituiaMson, which starts with imitation war in Mexico and ends with real war in Belgium, where Captain March, as Mon- sieur Mars the airman, retrieves his reputation. Told racily in | O' Malley, the very lovable half- sister of the beautiful but shallow Diana, it moves with the dash and speed that one expects in a WILLIAMSON story. It is certainly one of the best, if not the best, of the long list | of their collaborations. It dif- fers from most of the others in having no motor-car interest. There was just one critical point Instructor (to novice practisi GOT THE wavering, when Peggy's party | ee ee eee started off for a motor trip to sei California. It must have required resolution on their part to keep themselves from abandoning the plot in favour of a deseription of the tour, but they “Tesisted it. The trip | takes place off the stage, and the story moves on without it. It was bound to happen. IJ knew that with so many of our male novelists producing vast volumes about the life, the wholé life, and nothing but the life of their heroes, we should not have to wait much Jonger for a companion feminine picture. Well, now Miss Nevra Syrerr has done it, or perhaps I should more correctly say begun it, since on the last page of The Victorians (Fisher Unwin) she hints darkly that “the story of Lose Cottingham is to be continued in the near future.’ So far as the present voluine takes us, we get Jtose through infancy and schooldays—-more than two hundred pages about them to the period of her first proposal and the publication of her first book. It is all rather well done, with observation and the kind of truth that one cannot help feeling springs from personal experience. Hspecially is this the case with the picture of Minerva House and its dominating mistress, the “awe-inspiring little woman” whose “efforts | had revolutionized the whole system of education for girls.”’ i ed t=] There seems a recognizable portrait here. Good too is the He was' KIGHT F NEED TO SUGGEST COMPULSION.”’ queer home of Helen, the friend with whom Rose goes to stay, and its artful and crafty mixture of Morris wall- | Papers, meetings for working men, sage-green gowns and | movements generally. I should explain that the date of the story is given as thirty years ago; and from this I am forced to believe that the designer of the attractive wrapper of the volume has been somewhat led astray by the title. We were undoubtedly “ Victorians” thirty years ago, but with all the vehemence of the middle-ageing I must protest The book has crinolines and ringlets. However, let it pass. /womanhood, and the author has built up in Kose a character sufliciently attractive for us to bear the prospect of further revelations with oqunnnentty. No doubt it was hese Mr. F. Frankrorr Moore admired (as we all do) the wonderful and self-sacrificing work performed since the War started by our amateur nurses that he set out to write — a book that should commemo- rate some of their and triumphs. He may con- ceivably have been influenced by the consideration that everyone is more or less con- cerned with nursing nowadays there would be a safe welcome for a volume about it. So far excellent. But J am sorry that he decided to produce it in the form of fiction. Because my honest impression of The Romance of a Red Cross Hos- pital (Hwurcuinson) is as teresting enough, the romance is boresome to a degree. As a story also it contains certain features that, to say the least, leave me unconvinced. The first You’y of these is the attitude of the ng the call to dinner). * NOTES ALL RIGHT, AND YOUR TIME ISN’T BAD; T ; BUT | hero, who, having been told by LELING NT 7. a 1 SN z — oe oo — tes two doctors that he had an ~ enlarged heart, let concealment lof this blamelees fact prey on his damask cheek because ihe “ shrank from the stigma of rejection through being medically unfit’; and then was furious with all the other characters for the excusable suspicion that he was shirking. Frankly, I find myself as little able to admire as to believe in him. Naturally, however, the laws of fiction require that he shall eventually perform prodigies of valour. Indeed the Red Cross Hospital is founded to his memory, falter he has been supposed to have perished in rescuing people from a shipwreck. As a matter of fact he hadn't perished at all; but that is another story. My charge of incredibility against Mr. Moorr is the fact that he makes an educated woman of to-day suppose the “theatre” = a hospital to be a building for the production of plays, please! second Name, de against the suggestion that we came within the era of | its own charm and interest as a minute analysis of young | difficulties | that, | while the hospital part is in- | based on | Dinei guerre ieans guére de diner ; or, in English, warfare means wWar-fare. ‘TO GentLeEMEN,—Advertiser (refined) desires acquaintance with motor car,’ Western Morning News. | We could introduce him to a Rouns-Royer, in slightly | reduced circumstances, yet quite affable: but prefer something humbler and more ehatty. he might |

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15. es to wall- ; and te of I am upper title. , but otest ra of k has oung se a | spect DORE icing iteur vrite 2mMo- Ities con- need ; as con- days ome . far that the my The Hos- hat, in- nce \s a tain “aust, first the | by an ent use ing her ing, eve ire yur, ry, ing Int md on lay the ish, vith tly | ght | CHARIVARIA. As a counter move to our offer to | Greece of the Island of Cyprus, Ger- | many is understood to have offered her | the Island of Great Britain. Focssnacnonsnad The Daily Chronicle suggests that the new recruits should be called Derbys, to distinguish them, we sup- pose, from the other Darbys who, with their Joans’ consent, have joined the Volunteers. Herr Baur, who was recently in- formed by the Karser that German merchant shipping could continue in the future to count upon “ my especial interest and my Imperial protection,” would have preferred a phrase contain- ing more U’s and fewer Ki Ss. * * “Greetings to ex-Presi- dent RoosEvVELT, who is sixty-seven to-day,” said an evening paper last Wednesday. How rapidly the War ages some people! Last year Mr. RoosEVELT was only fifty-six. Mr. WALTER Lone says that when he reads carp- ing criticisms upon the conduct of the War he looks through his window at the people in the street and is always surprised to see the quiet steadfast manner in which they are | going about their business. | It is a good plan, but not always successful. The Kaiser got his view of the Irish people through a Casement, and it was entirely erroneous. RECRUITIN’ } DESPERATE ! Giving evidence about a dog, a witness at West Ham said, “ He goes behind children, bites their legs, and walks on ; no noise, no nothing.” | West Ham youngsters must | cluded among our silent heroes. be in- It is feared that the “No treating” regulation may lead to an increase of wife-beating among persons of an economical turn of mind, for, as one Scotch labourer said to another, “ If 1 treat my wife I’m fined £100, but if I ill-treat her I get off for 5s.” It is stated that representatives of working-men’s clubs are with the Board of Liquor Control a | proposal that members’ wives should be made honorary members in order that they may be able to pay for their own refreshments. The Board, before discussing Sees a VOL. CXLIX. NoveMBER 3, 1915.} PUNCH, OR THE Conscience-stricken "OR These LONI JON CHARIVARL. 361 giving its decision, is endeavouring to ascertain whether the proposal eman- ated from thirsty wives or parsimonious husbands. The popular novelist who in conse- quence of over-indulgence in golf has had to have one of his ribs removed, is comforting himself with the reflection that his literary style may thereby be improved. Every Sunday-school boy knows of a case where an operation of this kind was immediately followed by a striking development of the feminine interest. Under the new lighting regulations the local authorities in Kent have decreed that at night-time perambula- tors must carry rear-lights. It was Little POLICE “Ty ONLY WANTS TI rO DRIVE ME TO I Slacker. THE Force thought at first that hooters would also | be necessary, but it has now been | decided that sufficient warning will be | given if, when a collision is imminent, | the nurse pinches the baby. The number of Censors employed at the Press Bureau being exactly forty, and their minute knowledge of English jliterature having been displayed on several occasions, Sir JoHN SIMON is contemplating their incorporation as an Academy. They will be known as “The Immortals—for the duration of the War.” * In the debate on the War-profits tax Mr. McKenna said that “ nobody would propose a tax of this kind as a permanent part of our fiscal system.” We hope this may be taken an indication that in the opinion of the Government the War is not going on as for ever. A clerical correspondent writes that ror 7 he is glad to see that the visit of the Bishops to the Grand Fleet is having jits effect, as he has lately heard of | several converted cruisers. ! | Here is a pendant to our recent story | of the polite sergeant :—A British shell jhad just landed in our own trench | without bursting. Two minutes later a |corporal with the offending shell under | his arm presented himself to the | Artillery Forward Observing Officer : |“ Excuse me, Sir. With the Sergeant's | compliments : he thought you might like to fire it over again.”’ | Moved by a statement in a Foreign Office report that there has been a large increase in the export of eggs from ' Italy, a correspondent suggests a motto | for Italian hens :— I will lay on for Tusculum, And lay thou on for Rome! ; *. * In order to obtain copper for war purposes the muni- cipality of Kiel has ordered that local cable tram-lines in the less busy parts of the city shall be broken up. The inhabitants have suggested that there are several apparently useless warships in the immediate neighbourhood which would supply a_ larger amount of metal with less inconvenience to the public. TO START SOMETHIN’ iEM »0 The author who adver- tises that he will be ™ pleased to supply three copies of his new novel, together with 500 cigarettes, to any Service hospital that applies for them, is surprised at the number of secretaries who have written to ask whether it is absolutely neces- sary to accept the offer en bloc. He had no idea there were so many non- {smokers in the Army. *x * In an appreciation of “ W.G.” by Sir ArtHUR Conan DoyLeE we read: “When he was well on towards his sixtieth year, I have seen him standing up to Lockwoop when man after man was helpless at the other wicket.” This is perhaps hardly just to the other batsmen. What could they do while “the old man” had the bowling? Or are we to infer that, contrary to the laws, Lockwoop was bowling at both ends ? ‘Lady pinning a flag on an Australian back from the front.’’—Morning Paper. It sounds difficult as well as painful, but presumably she used a hat-pin.

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critical faculty, why very little of the verse occasioned by | the War is likely to survive. _ its production demands a state of mind removed from all wrote-—- | merged in the choric “we,” sacred to editors and crowned | Warr Wuirman wrote that most moving of all War PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVART. HOW TO REVIEW WAR POETRY. (With acknowledgments to “ ‘The Times’ Literary Supplement.’’) THERE are abundant reasons, obvious enough to the In the first place, poetry for immediate pressure and excitement. This accounts for the failure of Tyrrxus, of all the poets of the great Elizabethan age of adventure, of Roucrer DE Liste, who wrote the Mar- seillaise. Just now it is almost impossible to enjoy that perfect calm, that indifference to one’s environment, which is the very breath of all great poetry. The noblest of all lines ever written about Victory—the concluding lines of Minton’s Samson Agonistes—were composed some time after the tragic death of the veteran anti-Philistine. It is the same with the passion of Love, which bears a close resemblance to War, all things being fair in each. Poetry, as WorpswortH said, is emotion remembered in tranquillity. If the expression of the sentiments uttered under stress of immediate emotion in MicHarL Drayron’s passionate sonnet— ‘* Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part—’’ had been postponed to a period of subsequent tran- quillity, he would have made a much better job of it. And so, when Peace returns, as we hope it may some day, we shall look fora revival of pure song. The Palace of the Hague should be a veritable aviary. Another source of weakness in our War poetry lies in the fact that the poet does not speak from his own heart (“ By thine own tears thy song must tears beget’), but as the accredited mouthpiece of the nation. The War may or may not have touched him personally—we will generously admit that we have known cases, even among poets, of personal grief and personal patriotism induced by the War—but as a general rule the writer has been weighed down by a sense of responsibility to the State, of the claim made upon him to speak for England. WorpswortH was suffering from the same unfortunate obsession when he ‘* Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour ; England hath need of thee !”’ Egotism, which is the essence of true poetry, should never be heads. What poet ever wrote in the first person plural ? One has not forgotten MatrHew ARrnowp’s lines :— ‘* We, in some unknown Power’s employ, Move on a rigorous line ; Can neither, when we will, enjoy, Nor, when we will, resign” ; but one cannot recall any other authoritative case of this | assumption of plurality by a recognised English poet. Again, how can a poet write about things he has not seen, even if by an effort of will he persuades himself that he has felt them? Sincerity is only possible when it is | the outcome of experience. It is no good for a thing just to happen; it must happen to the poet himself. When poems, his dirge for two veterans— ‘*O strong dead-march, you please me. O moon immense, with your silvery face, you soothe me ’’— he must with his own ears have heard the actual music; he must with his own eyes have seen the moon in question, | But how many of our War poems have been written at | | the Front? If SHaksPeare had been in a position to assist | at the Battle of Agincourt, he might have written more | | worthily of St. Crispin’s Day. Se ° . . . . lop . ‘ _ back upon his imagination, that last resort of insincerity. | Eh, mon! Yer Italian sounds varra Scotch ! As it was he had to fall} It should further be remarked that the fact that every- body is thinking the same thing at the same time constitutes a fatal difficulty for our War-Laureates. If an obscure friend of the poet dies peacefully of a zymotic disease, the theme may well furnish him with a genuine inspiration ; but if a distinguished General falls gloriously on the field of honour, or some national hero is borne to his last resting- place in St. Paul’s or the Abbey, any memorial tribute that the poet may write is bound to be insincere because it gives form to a sense of loss that is universal. That, of course, was the trouble with Tennyson's “Ode on the Death of Wellington.” [November 3, 1915. Finally, we would say to our poets: Do noi yield to the | very natural temptation to give expression to those emotions | of the common heart that cry for articulate utterance. Just write from yourselves and to yourselves. Distinguish between singing because you must, and going out of your | way to find something to sing about. Do not go out of your way just because the War is there. Do not change in a world of change. Keep on steadfastly in the old way, like the Racing News in another column. For so, how- ever long we others may have to wait for Peace, you will know even now the true peace that can only be found in artistic detachment. O. $. PAMBI. (An Oriental Seaport.) Now all you gay young fellows, who fight so bold and free And grouse at things in the trenches, hark to a Man of the Sea ; “R.N.R.” comes after my name, and what do you think I do? Port Officer of Pambi, with fever from ten to two. A million miles of red-hot sand and a hundred yards of slime, And mosquitoes as thick as the German guns getting you every time, That is the country of Pambi, and never a soul to see, And I’m the sanctified Officer, with fever from nine till three. Port? Well, maybe there used to be, but there’s nothing | but silt to-day, And once in a year a boat comes by in a hurry to clear away ; | And the Captains all cry, “Strike me dead, is this character still alive— Port Officer of Pambi, with fever from eight till five?” It has its points, for I never shave and I need no clothes or boots ; I worry along by the grace of God and the blessing of | cheap cheroots ; But, if you fellows are fed with your job and want an exchange—all right ! Here is the Port of Pambi and fever from morn till night. You get the glory, and so you should, for it’s you who | carry the brunt, But there’s many a man in Pambi who'll never get near the Front, And so, when you’re feeling a bit depressed, please open | your mouths and sing, “Flanders is bad, but Pambi’s worse,” and so—God save the Kina! ‘*As the Italian humourist remarked of another story: ‘Si mon eC Verdi, e bene Trovatore !’ *__ Bvening Paper.

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ry. stitutes »bseure the ration : 1e field esting- e that use it hat, of n the to the tions ‘ance, Suish your ut of ange Way, 10W- will d in S os PUNCH, OR THE Lee LAE GEL Le GLEE GLE SILL Eh {7 CHEE A ty STIL Wita tippy V“MULLEEY VEEL tie LLG: Yijyg % vgs pi WLIT) fy Sir. A Psa alee: LE ae SEL SE: VEEL OE GLOEP Tae POLL OAS SZ ae oe a Lf Ui: YY Se LEE Gp SS Yi ee hLitteds heirs Lee Ze Giee Zoe SPSL Ma jy forrmn- BS 4) a SS ey ~y By ON THE TRACKE ’'S TRACK.

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faire. NovEMBER 3, 1915.] ‘*By Jove! ‘*OQH, PLEASE, DEAR, DON'T DO ANYTHING PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL Isn't Ir Low? I BELIEVE oa Lown Cena ic W I COULD HIT IT WITH My GuUN!”’ TO IRRITATE 1T!’’ THE EMPTY SLEEVE. EveryTHING would have passed off admirably but for his lack of savoir to be made for him. It is not every- body who is capable of rising to a great occasion or one that furnishes a severe test of good-breeding. Still he has nothing of the parvenu in his character, and indeed his pedigree is long and flawless, so that it was the more surprising that he should fail at the pinch. He must have known from the first | that there was something unusual in the air. The laughter at the breakfast- table may have put him on the alert, signifying that the strain of the last few dreary months was relaxed. He had been irritatingly restless the whole | morning, following one or the other of | of being left out in the cold. us about, upstairs and down, in and out of the garden, as if he felt afraid When anybody opened the front-door an hour too soon and went down the steps to} look along the road, Nigger was always beforehand, wagging his tail and gazing up with an alert, perplexed, pathetic! Some excuse, perhaps, ought | | expression of inquiry; and when the |critical moment actually at last drew near and we were all collected in the hall he tried obtrusively to force his way between us to the front. When we heard a hooter at the corner and the taxicab came into view with his master’s face at the window, he ran to meet it, barking recklessly by the side of the wheels till it stopped; but then his voice died suddenly away. He was obviously uneasy in his mind, although for the next few minutes, juntil we were all assembled in the dining-room, it was impossible for him to get a look in. When his turn at last came and he was put to the proof he dismally failed to rise to the occasion. As for the rest of us, we tried to take it as a matter of course have succeeded if it had not been for Nigger’s complete want of tact. We shouted and laughed and shook the old fellow’s left hand as if he had never had another to shake; we pushed the easy-chair towards him and kept on saying how delighted we were to have him home again without a word of mitigation, asking innumerable ques- tions without waiting for answers, for and should | really the only thing that mattered at | the moment was before our eyes, and although it was different as far as appearances went from what it used to be—well, there it was nevertheless. That was where Nigger proved such a miserable disappointment. He alone seemed unable to accept the situation. We talked more persistently than ever as he rested his fore-paws on the arm of the chair, sniffing suspiciously ; then in the most tactless manner he |gave vent to a prodigious sigh as ihe laid the side of his black head on , the empty sleeve. | TO A PATROLLING BALLOON. |O miauty globe! O gas-filled shape! That swayed so lightly in mid-air, I gazed on you with mouth agape, Wondering what perils man will dare. Nor recked of mine till someone’s hand So lavishly, as you sped South, Dropped overboard that surplus sand Into my patriotic mouth. Compulsory Liquidation ? ‘** An angry melting of shareholders in -—— , Ltd. has been held.’’—Adelaide Paper.

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366 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. fNoveMBER 3, 1915, “« Now he has to bark a ‘Thank you,’ FLYING COLOURS. hasn’t he, and offer me the right paw Ir was Red Cross Day, and as I was! of good-fellowship ?”’ preparing to go to the City Joan came, A sharp bark sounded as I spoke, into the hall with Rip. | and a paw was timidly lifted for me Rip is a new acquisition. He had|to grasp. I took it. We made a formerly been our doctor’s property,| pretty, though not original, picture— | but his wife had declared that she the intelligent well- trained hound and wouldn’t have a large dog in the same the stern yet kindly-looking man. The house with the small baby that had coloured Christmas Supplements have just joined the home circle, and the! made fortunes out of it. “Oh, you doctor, after much anxious thought, dear!” Joan exclaimed, clapping her had decided to keep the small baby hands. and get rid of the large dog. There-| ‘Not at all,” I said, upon we offered a refined home, full | hand on my trouser-leg. board, freedom of the hearth-rug, and “T meant the dog,” observed Joan. occasional use of rat in tool-shed, with | “ He knows his part perfectly. I only the result that, a few weeks ago, Rip came to | _us with a completely new | outfit (collar with our ad- | dress engraved upon it— the doctor’s parting gift), and is now one of the family. For the past week he had been rigidly trained | every day with a view to | assisting the Red Cross | funds. “T want Rip to have a | ' rehearsal,” Joan said, ‘ to see if he knows his part. Now try and look as | much like a stranger as possible, and then advance | and buy a flag.” I walked to the hall door, while Joan, with Rip | at her side, stood at the threshold of the breakfast- | room. Assuming what STEVENSON (I think) calls | ‘“‘a glad morning face,” I strolled up. “Will you buy a flag, Sir?” said Joan, stepping forward. “With pleasure,” I re- | beet plied. ‘“ How much?” “As much as you like to give.” above dialogue is taken from life.) Wiping my) ss \ ae | a@ meal. the publican feel perfectly safe. | hope it won’t rain. People won’t want | (The | to shake hands with him if his paws | ¢ are wet and muddy.” ‘“ Will five shillings a Well, take my old gloves,” I sug- ‘Oh, how splendid!” gested. ‘“ Patrons can put them on for “Then lend it me, will you?” I re-|the ceremony and then hand them marked. “I've left all my money on back. Heavens! I must run. Good | my dressing-table. Ever since you luck!” | gave me that trouser-press on my ast} “Don’t forget you’re coming home| | birthday I’ye——” | to lunch,” called out Joan as I reached | “Oh, you mustn't talk like that!” _ gate, “and you are to fetch me cried Joan in dismay. ‘Remember! from my pitch outside our bank.” | you re a stranger.” | “Which bank?” J inquired loftily. “That doesn’t ease the financial | (We have a small sum in the custody | pressure a bit,” I said as I ran upstairs. | of the PostMasTER-GENERAL). And a minute later I had discharged; ‘The one where our account is my liability by placing two half-crowns | always overdrawn,” Joan cried back. in the box which hung round Rip’s| e i sk : neck, while Joan took a “flag from the| It was on the stroke of one that T) -pincushion which she had fastened reached the bank. “ How have you got saddlewise to his back. ‘on ?” T asked, as Joan, having success- } | | | nice old lady and her daughter put in Under the new regulation it is an offence to serve intoxicating drink to any person who is being ‘‘ treated,’’ unless he is also being ‘‘ treated”? to It is not always easy to tell when a “ treat ’’ is taking place. But the Non-Treating Regulation Patent Clip, holding one meal within the meaning of the Act, to be attached to all tumblers and glasses, makes | off, We also supply Regulation Meals in neat packages, extra serviceable, sterilised and practically everlasting, if dusted from time to time.—Advt. The Publicans’ Friendly Idea Soc iety. fully negotiated a sale with a tall stout gentleman, was anxiously watching the united efforts of her customer and our faithful and highly-trained dog to bridge the gap of physical disability that parted them, and seal the bargain in the preseribed manner. ‘ Splen- didly!” she replied. “ L’ve just emptied | my box for the third time. One sove- | reign, three half-sovereigns, and any amount of silver. Poor old Rip’s neck must ache dreadfully. I wish everyone did as that stout man did. He put in a five-pound note; and, just before, a two one-pounders. Hallo! Here comes the doctor. He must buy a flag from Rip. There, he’s gone past!” The doctor, obviously in a hurry, had whizzed by in his car and was already up a side-turning. And so too was Rip. The sight of his old master was too much for him. With a yelp of joy he was off like an arrow, and the air round us simply rained little red-and-white flags. In response to Joan’s pite- ous appeal I started in pursuit of our richly- endowed dog, but I was hopelessly outclassed from the very start. No sign of car or dog could I see when I reached the corner, and I dejectedly retraced my steps. For a quarter | of an hour we waited in melancholy silence. Then | | Rip reappeared. His col- lecting - box had fallen ‘andthe flagless ‘pineushion had _ slipped ‘round under his tummy. ‘ “Tt’s all my fault, Rip,” said; “I ought to have provided against such a contingency. But our duty is clear,” she added, turning to me. I looked into her face and read there what was already in my own | mind, Then together we entered the | bank and increased our overdraft by seven pounds. ‘The war has seriously affected this traffic: dh hotel keepers in some of our Irish re sorts were almost threatened with distinction.’ Dublin Evening Mail. From our recollection of Irish hotels we fancy most of them would escape. ‘Even if the Germans should be able to sith as far as Constantinople, they will alway shave to maintain two fronts.”’ Glasgow Evening Times. ‘That is one of the drawbacks of being | | double-faced.

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| Novemser 3, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 367 | ——e | ut | he ur | } to | | ty | | in | n- | | ed | e- | | ny ck | | ne } | in a in | re | } ig s ly od us g, 1e | us | | h | | a} || - r dd S. n STUDIES IN NERVES (NOVEMBER 5). = | BEFORE THE WAR. Now. iS — ts ——— — ae - Those conscientious and _ persistent | For single-handed, like the aed Hona- " | A LOST LUXURY. Prey ent v persiste ‘| ne ande | 4 | Wuere are they gone, the old familiar) Who loved to set the peccant public} Who kept the bridge in the brave | ', writers right, days of yore, | d Whose lucubrations once adorned’ And, to the bottom of truth’s well like | Great Lowrer Brrpesr, aptly named, al | the Press, | divers, continues “ | Voluminous, industrious inditers Were always plunging, always full|To brace and stimulate our mental % | Of serious letters upon cheese or of fight, sinews. F chess, And utterly regardless of the jibes ; “ | On cabbages or kings, on mice or | Of irresponsible or ribald scribes. Long may his style,” excelling in ri mitres, bravura, a] | Phonetic spelling or reforms in| But now from Early, in or Was Fulfil our souls with delicate delight ; ee | dress— Edition : Long may his wit, a psychic Angostura, | | Some eminent for their extreme ur-| Their once familiar signatures are|_ Correct our literary appetite ; : | banity, | eons: ™ Long may he live to combat atra cura ‘ | And others for their exquisite inanity ?| No longer they fulfil their blameless | “Hight. that melancholy fiend to | I mean not those who to their sereeds _— . Himself serene, indomitably bland, A | appended gg oe ng om egg” ee a | The last and we irdliest-named of all | . ; a Vanished is Kiepninc ComMon’s erudi- | asap , aon , An alias expressive of their mood, ree | his band. y | According as they were displeased, | heal , aoa ee. eee oe | ; | And hushed the priceless voice of| offended, ALGERNON | ; , | Or moved and prompted by solici- | lA Prag = lef ol iis Gaeeliaiten! Commercial Generosity. tude ee ee ee ae are 1) «A new journal, Questions, has been estab- ; That some abuse should be at oncé trace lished. It is a threepenny monthly periodical amended, lor his sepulchral and funereal grace. for Belgians in England. Belgians in Letch- | | Some policy should promptly be ex- | , . novos. ional SS at aetna chil. | : | iene > Only one lingers yet, whose mind an, The Citizen (Letchworth). | For still we labour underneath the yoke| _,, C@Pacious a | . Of these indignant, curious, anxious | Pours out a flood of miscellaneous | a See a a 4 folk lore, ‘ScorcH Nanny in milk, two pints, fawn . The sole survivor of the group sagaci- and white, £3 10s.”—Leeds Mercury. | No, I refer to those alert quill-drivers ous No, we are not taking any. It is too | Who underneath no bushel hid| Who cheered us in the days before expensive; besides we don’t like | | | their light— | the War, brindled milk. | ——s as — ~ oe ee

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| 368 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [NoveMBER 3, 1915, THE BATTLE OF THE ELBE. [‘* A Lloyd’s telegram states that the British steamers Auk, Iris, and City of Berlin, which were detained at Hamburg at the outbreak of the war, have been sunk by the enemy.’’} “I’ve maintained now for some the Auk, the Jris and the City of Berlin.| other German naval victories. But said Jack to Cheeks, the Marine, | . nae 3 | : : “that the German Navy is threatened! Cheeks. She was handicapped at her | There was stern work yet ahead. ‘ Let | christening. time,’ with a certain liveliness.” gets the prize this month for a comic | imagination. “You see, lyin’ in the Elbe off Ham- | burg was three British steamers, what |had the bad luck to be in dock there | Thomas, the cheerin’ broke out just as when the War broke out. There was | For the last one I have some sympathy, Well, it was a matter of | masthead, ‘ What price Britannia rules the waves?’” “Stow it,” growled Cheeks. “Then, Cheeks, you disbelievin’ it did at Trafalgar and La Hogue and suddenly the Kaiser became grave. the guns speak,’ he said, and von “T’m fair sick of your rumours,” | a few days only, Cheeks, fixin’ up those | WIEGAND put it down. said Cheeks. | poor steamers with canvas and wooden “ Well, the City of Berlin went next, “ This ain’t a rumour, Cheeks. We've guns and givin’ them the look of the torpedoed by a submarine what crept got reality at last. There’s been a big) most ferocious British cruisers. They | recklessly in under her port quarter. engagement.” ‘Suppressed by the Censor, I sup- pose,” sneered Cheeks. “Not at all. The bare details have| more desp’rate than those ships had} the sight of _ her. been published. Now I’m going to give you the story in full. “You know what a lot of changes there’s been lately in the High Canal Staff. Well, Cheeks, those changes ain’t been in vain. done what the old blood simply never thought of. But, to give credit where credit is due, a thing most marines don’t understand, it was Herr Baur who had the big idea first. “ He was chattin’ one day with von Wiecanp, the well-known journalist, otherwise famous as a nootral, and von Wireanp starts tellin’ Herr Bain what a great man he is. They were sittin’ on the banks of the Elbe, sighing for a capful of wind, like all good sailors, and thinkin’ of names for the units of Germany’s new merchant fleet.” “You ain’t ’alf got a comic imagina- tion,” said Cheeks. “P’raps so, but I’ve been proved right often. Well, von WIEGAND was a bit sad. He’d just come off the Moltke, which recently had a nasty attack of torpeditis in the jaws, and leant’ in his head was the German sailor’s con- stant refrain, ‘When will the British Fleet come out?’ He points out to Herr Bavuin that the despondency in the German Fleet is something awful. What with worrying over the enemy when he don’t come out, and what with chafing with anxiety over him when he does, the German sailor, Cheeks, is a|so called because old Trrritz ain’t Attractive, yet detached? We fear she | mere shadow. “Just at that moment Herr Batrin Cheeks. You can read the book if you The new blood has | painted new names on ’em too, callin’ them the Lion, the Tiger and the—and | the Ring-tailed Ranunculus. Anythin’ | /never been seen near Hamburg, not since HaGENBECK set up his institution for the great Herbivores. All right, like. Perkins pinched it out of the Warrant Officers’ mess. “ At last the great day arrived. The) German Fleet was brought round the corner, and many scenes of light- hearted joy was witnessed. Some said ‘At last!’ and them that didn’t said | ‘Der Tag,’ and a few butted in with | ‘Deutschland Ueber Alles!’ Stokers shook hands with each other and a few popular fellers were even thrown in the furnaces. “Well, Cheeks, the action started at jog A.M., the first gun being fired by |the Limburg, in case you didn’t know there was a ship with a name like that. |The Kaiser and von WIEGAND was |on board, the former gentleman grittin’ |his teeth and the latter makin’ notes besides grittin’ his teeth. | “The German Admiral—maybe von | BExNcKE, but I ain’t seen the Gazette _lately—begs the Katser to go below, but he says simply, ‘ My place is beside my brave sailors.’ Von W1EGAND was | | quite as brave. When they impressed | upon him the danger he just smiled | | contemptuously. “Well, after half an hour the first hit was made. Who done it nobody | knows. Perhaps it was the Pommern, | above havin’ a mark or two on ‘Solly | Joel’s Selected,’ war or no war. Some | The Jris stuck out to the last, and | some of the German Fleet piped off for lunch simply because they were sick of Somehow _ she wouldn’t sink, although she lay bottom upwards with the German Fleet all round her. And if it hadn’t been for the happy thought of an Admiral, who had her pushed down with a boathook, |I believe she’d be a danger to naviga- tion now, Cheeks. “ That ’s the whole of the story. Yes, want a moral? Well, I reckon we’re lucky to have nothing worse to grouse about than Winston CHURCHILL.” PUNCH’S WAR CARTOONS. In drawing the attention of our readers in our issue of September Ist, 1915, to the Edition de Luxe Punch. | Cartoons, we inadvertently made use of the word “ WHatMAN”’ to describe the boards on which the Cartoons were mounted. We are informed that | this description was not accurate, and | that the registered property of Messrs. W. & G. BatsTon, Limited, to whom we tender an expression of our regret. Commercial Candour. ‘*You should not miss a visit to the Ice Cream Soda Fountain. A splendid variety of hot drinks is always obtainable here at very reasonable prices.”’ ** An attractive, detached Gentleman's Cot- tage Residence. To Let, Furnished.”’ must have thrown him over. Cricket in Roman Britain. sits up. He ’s all a-shiver with excite-| holds that it was the Moltke, but you | ment. ‘ What’s that I see before me?’ | couldn't say because they was all dash- | he asks in a husky voice, like Petty |in’ about so much and firin’ on the Officer Lloyd’s when we done Hamlet | cigar or cocoanut system. last Christmas. Von WIEGAND couldn’t see nothing, and he feels for his beer ticket. But Herr Batuin don’t give in. ‘I’m right,’ he says, ‘I’m not “ Well, Cheeks, the fight was awful, ; and the German darin’ what the papers call a by-word.. Old sailors said there had been nuthin’ like it since the bom- From The Westminster Gazette's memoir of W. G. GRACE :— | «In the ’sixties it was no unusual thing to | have two or three shooters in an over; now- adays you scarcely get one shooter in a season. At this time the Marylebone ground was in a very unsatisfactory condition—so unsatis- factory that in 164 Sussex refused to play at dreamin’. It’s the British Fleet!’ bardment of Scarborough. The noise “When they found the hole which! of the guns was frightful and the smell von Wircanp had chosen for his | of the firin’ was just like gunpowder. reverie, Herr Bann had got itschemed| “At 12.29 p.m. the Auk went down, all out; and it’s him, Cheeks, that , Lord’s owing to the roughness of the ground.” We understand that the St. Andrew’s |Committee have lodged a_ protest against this statement in the interests name “ WHATMAN” is the | | (

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4 | Novenprr 3, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 369 : ce a cicimnertetet sre ict aeceieaiaeiaiet es a re : aay ee a ee ee — a Pa 4 by AY) ‘ ; | Hat! j' iF f n | ( - N : \\\\ \\ j | $ | as Z 7 nd ut 7e. et | ON | | xt, pt er. | nd for of he ! ym. Ad all So ) for | fy E, ho | A % AX ak, | by iw | a) N es, BA » re ng ise \ ! | yur | st, | FEEDING TIME. ich, Jock (accustomed to the formula of Orderly Officers). ‘‘ ANY COMPLAINTS ?”’ 1Se | —— = — — ~ — — — — ee ae nS a arene re nmr = ibe | ee i oe “We learn,” says the Frankfurter | Rome, vid The Hague. a BALKAN INTELLIGENCE. Zeitung, “from an inspired quarter in| A highly-placed neutral just velewtal rat {How we are enlightened on the situ- Athens (vid Trieste and Berlin), that it | from Constantinople informs the Secolo nd ation in the Near East. Any Day’s is not too much to say that events | that the SutTAN has conferred the Order the | | News. Any Daily Paper.) in the Greek capital may move rapidly | of Probity (Ninth Class) upon the act- “ | Amsterdam, ,&te long. _ Meanwhile M. Zonopopho- ing German Ambassador. | Tue Salonika Correspondent of the graphos is confined to his bed with Tokyo, vid Petrograd. | Tijd telegraphs that important develop- * chill. ; : The Washington corfespondent of | ments are expected ere long. “King CoNSTANTINE granted an audi- the Christiania Morgenpost telegraphs iii ait Mieiiend \cee vo the I ap oon Minister to-day. from Salt Lake City that three-fifths Ice j pean This has given rise to much comment of the Bulgarian army have crossed into = A long interview took place inieiiieegs diplomatic circles. , Serbia, two-fifths are concentrated on a Lctinedin WE. Wisibidlamn Qainder of oe Yemyil Bey, of the Young Turk the Greek frontier, while the remaining - aereeey. ae © Party and Special Envoy of the Porte! fifth is to adopt a watching attitude | Conservative Democratic Party, and/ + Athens speaking at a dinner given) with reo: dt R a ‘ot- M. Margariano, Leader of the Reac-| ; < : | are Old Greek P; ty Ton ee SS Nish. tionary Radical Party. It is thought}, raga -ragge foc Sher sete ang Baten The Austro-German army is deleted she that the interview may have an im- — ee ee ee eM BY CENSOR eeas er | portant bearing on Roumania’s future secon oe ile He ban As Athens. vid: Berne. action ; or, on the other hand, that it | j.cue “ the present dituciion: Greece| The _return of M. VENIZELOS to | | may not. must never forget what Turkey and | POWer 1s hourly expected. les | From the “ Petit Parisien’s” Corre-| her great ally, Germany, had done on Athens, vid Buda-Pest. spondent at Sofia, vid Madrid, behalf of small nations struggling to| M. VenizELos’ retirement may be g to Buenos Aires, Pekin and Stockholm. be free.”’ regarded (so Reuter’s New York corre- eg (Delayed in transmission.) Amsterdam. | spondent wires) as definite and per- ‘in | German agents are watching the The Copenhagen correspondent of manent. tis- kitchen of M. Radoslavoff’s house day the Echo de Paris learns from Salon-' <A telegram from Sevastopol, vid y at and night, to see that no food is served ‘ika, vid Lemnos and Nijni Novgorod, Rotterdam, casts doubts on both the d. to the Premier which might possibly that in high official circles in Bukarest' above statements. whe affect his present mood or weaken his it is rumoured that in Constantinople Sror Press. est determination to carry to the utmost the situation is considered grave. Too Bukarest. sts limits Bulgaria’s co-operation with the much credence must not be given to! The diplomatic situation is appreci- Central Empires. this report. ably the same.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL [November 3, 1915, Mother (to her small son, who is doing a jig-saw puzzle on the Sabbath). ‘‘ Boppy, ARE YOU SURE THAT’s A SUNDAY PUZZLE xOU ARE DOING?” Bobby. ‘‘ WELL, You SEE, I CAN’T TELL UNTIL I’VE DONE IT.” AT THE FRONT. A miuitary humourist remarked the other day that trench warfare was becoming a constant drain. Last winter the privilege of being able to write home and say you were up to your knees in water was so highly esteemed that no one ever suggested such a sacrilege as the draining of a trench. This winter we are reformed characters. What remains of the trenches is as dry as the routine order prescribing for them, and on this theme there is nothing to write home about. The British Army has made four drains to every trench, so we have every prospect of a rainless winter. Talking about constant drains we are so reduced that I have had to take over a company, just for a few days, until they can get an officer. Nevertheless, except that I have stopped speaking to platoon commanders, I don’t put on a bit of side about it. On the other hand you must not imagine that I regard my duties lightly. Only yesterday I built a new mess kitchen. It is completely self-contained, and when it grows up and we borrow the electric range from the Hun oppo- site it ought to turn out anything up to an eight-course dinner in less time than it takes to persuade the enemy to retaliate. We are also making a new recess to' There are still some Germans some- 'where round ; they are of the Prussic the requirements of a coal-cellar except ; sort and very acid. They seem to be the coal. Our half-hoop roofings are| experts in mixed frightfulness, which creating quite a furore round about.| they get off their chests in short rushes These derniers cris of this season's | as it were. Thus from 10 to 10.30 a.m. fancy ironwork were discovered loiter- | comes a shower of rifle grenades ; from : gp : | ing suspiciously among the ruins of a| 2.30 to 3 p.m., an assortment of shells; | 5 Pp i 5 | barn. For months every officer looked | while we have two brisk half-hours of at them appreciatively as he passed, rifle and machine guns after dusk. In and observed to his friends, “ Fine stuff | the small hours of the morning the air for roofing a dug-out! We must use/is full of the»noises of bombous pro- them as soon as we have a battalion to |jectiles. I rush up as slowly as I spare for carrying them.” I ended | decently can to the sap-head to inquire their hopes by discovering that a com-| who is hit, and am informed by a very pany could carry one at a time comfort- | unconcerned and obviously contemptu- ably.- Now I write under the shadow | ous listening-postman that the near- of their spreading eaves, and our only | est bomb fell fifty yards short. As the trouble is that one of those Generals; hours of the morning grow larger we who keep popping in may want to) return to a shell and mortar diet; and know why we’ve been wasting time| so it goes. that might have been spent on draining. Two evasions present themselves. In the first place there is always a good chance of passing the mess off as adrain. Alternatively I may remark lightly, ‘‘ My dear General, that old bun- galow of ours was positively unfit to receive company in—much less to com- mand one. When I became liable to the honour of your visits, I felt it my first duty to run up a salon worthier of your rank.” By the time I have finished this pretty speech the General will be at the end of my line. On the word “rank” I shall salute smartly and fall out. company commander in our sector who, having had to furnish the brigade with of his command, and a new anti-frost- bite slush, and being further asked, on the same day, to “report on enemy's attitude,” sent in the following illu- minating wire :—“ Enemy’s attitude attitude.” Whereupon the company commander amplified :—* Enemy’s atti- tude distinctly hostile.” This corre- spondence was then closed. reports on drainage, coke issue, sniper- | scopes, a wire-cutting patent, the health | hostile.””. Anon came a brigade reply :— | “Please amplify your report on eneimy’s | There was once a very old-established |

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~ ‘ = ‘ de | ys | ny ti- e- PUNCH, OR T TO AsquitH (Skipper of the good ship “ HE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Novempser 3, 1915. LIGHTEN THE SHIP. Cabinet”). “BELOW THERE! A DOZEN JONAHS WANTED!”

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NoveMBER 3, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI 373 'meeting of the Cabinet, and is a party ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. | to all its decisions. EXTRACTED FROM THE Diary oF Tosy, M.P.) House of Lords, Tuesday, October 26th. —LANspowNnE realises with increasing | conviction that the life of a Leader of a | Coalition Ministry, like that of the policeman, is not ahappy one. Repre- | senting Party Government at least | you know where you are. The Par- liamentary host is ranged in two /camps. You and your men fire into) the fellows opposite, and they fire into you. There is a simplicity about this | arrangement that lends it attraction. Lamentable difference for Leader in either House when Coalition Govern- ment directs National affairs. Such a body has natural unattractiveness of the Hermaphrodite. It excites no | healthy encouraging enthusiasm. On| all sides it makes enemies, overt or | covert. Old friends and former col- | leagues remain seated on Opposition | benches watching Ministerial manceu- | vres superciliously if not maliciously. This lack of support from old chums is not compensated for by loyalty on the part of new companions. A life-long Conservative seated oh Ministerial | bench in either House is chilled by | _ consciousness that he is suspect in the eyes of the party to which he has attached himself. This afternoon LANspownE, with his | back to the wall, his practised rapier showing no lack of skill or strength in the handling, found himself and the Government of which he is a distin- | guished Member assailed from all sides. LorEBURN, in most pragmatic mocd, | began it. Neither House nor country | has recently heard anything of the ultra-Radical who, making his way to the Woolsack, in brief time so far | commended himself to Noble Lords, | lay and clerical, as to dispute in their | estimation the personal supremacy of | that stern unbending Tory, Lord| HALSBURY. During occasional visits to House he sits in silence, brooding over in- efficiency of a Government deprived of his collaboration. With grudging assurance that he did not desire to | hamper the Government or to damage | the State by putting questions which, even if not answered in detail, would gratify the enemy, he submitted a series suggesting that expedition to Salonica | had been rushed without the approval of the Government’s highest naval and | military advisers, and that full provision had not been made for its communica- | tions and supplies. In guarded reply LanspownE pointed out that KircHENER, called to office of SECRETARY oF STaTeE FoR War by} | public acclaim, is present at every| ~ | “Tt would,” he added, “be almost grotesque to suppose that he allows) himself to be deflected from his course by pressure of civilian colleagues.” In the other House this common- sense refutation of irresponsible gossip ‘His BACK TO THE WALL.”’ Lorp LANSDOWNE. would have been approved by hearty cheer. The Lords are not in cheerful mood just now. The majority to whom a couple of years ago LANSDOWNE was a revered, almost idolised, leader heard him throughout in chilling silence. Business done—Commons made fur- ther progress in Committee on Budget. ‘* OTHERWISE ENGAGED.”’ Mr. Wixston CHURCHILL. Burning desire for presence of Wan- Question 25 on paper, addressed to him | by Moreno, inquired what he referred to in his communication to the Navy League, when he stated that “through our long delays the enemy had seized a new initiative in the Near East.” How were those delays brought about ? MoLtTENo anxious to know, and who was responsible for them ? When Questions began Winston was seated on Treasury Bench chatting wit! Luoyp GrorGce. When Number 25 on the list was reached, lo! he was not. MoLTENO appealed to SpPEakER of getting an answer. answer will be circulated with the Votes.” Doubtless. But that is not what MoLTENo wanted, or what would please the Pragmatical Prinete and assistance. They desired to see WInsTON in person, hear his explana- tion of what was certainly a curious remark from a Cabinet Minister, and put a few Supplementary Questions. There was the Sergeant-at-Arms in his chair; why was not he despatched to bring in the errant Minister, handcuffed if necessary ? SPEAKER, calling on next Question, made this little pleasantry impossible. Meanwhile Wriyston was otherwise, perhaps more usefully, engaged. Had brought down with him palette. Seated at favourable point of view on Terrace was placidly en- gaged in sketching Westminster Bridge in full tide of traffic.. Relieved from strenuous work at Admiralty he has given himself up with characteristic thoroughness and impetuosity to pur- suit of Art. Hopes MoniTeno and his other friends below Gangway will like | his “ View of Westminster Bridge from ‘the Terrace of the House of Com- |mons’’ when next May they see it |hanging on the line at the Royal Academy. House of Commons, Wednesday,— “ Certainly,” said the Speaker; “ the DERING WINSTON suddenly developed. | to | know whether there were any means | the | Hustling Hogar, who hurried to his | easel and | Business done.—Sitting devoted to | progress in Budget Bill. | Thursday.—Another word ruled out from Parliamentary usage. It is “stam- | pede.” OUTHWAITE inadvertently eli- cited judgment from the Chair. Amid \random talk about raids by Zeppe- |lins, he, addressing Home SecRETARY, |casually inquired, “Is the Right Hon. Gentleman aware that last night there was a stampede by Hon. Members from this Chamber because they heard of a Zeppelin raid ?”’ Speaker sternly objected to the use of the word “ stampede.”

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| Home Secretary, he asked whether he | was aware that two Members actually PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [NovemBer 3, 1915, ail ‘“ MABEL, GO ON WITH YOUR WORK, AND DON’T GNAW YOUR PENCIL.’ ‘“‘Bur, Miss Frncu, I’M ONLY GNAWING OFF ‘ BAVARIA. ‘Ss ~ TH i > MADE IN GERMANY. Ss ’ i Alleged incident of Members bolting | at a critical moment explained by ArtHur MarkHaAm. Also addressing left the House ? “I was speaking at the time,” he added. That explained everything. Subject accordingly dropped. Re- vived by OvutHwairr, whose ruffled appearance suggested that in the meanwhile, in the Lobby and else- where, he had had rough time with Members accused of fleeing in affright when they heard a Zeppelin was coming. He now “desired to make most absolute apology for having con- veyed impression that Members left on account of fear.” What he meant to say was that they ran off to protect | their wives and children. “T myself,” he added, “left on account of a gas-bag which was not a Zeppelin.” | This another unfortunate remark. | Members seated near him below Gang- | way looked inquiringly at each other and angrily at him. Certainly was a case that might have been put differ- | ently. There are no gas-bags below | the Gangway. Business done.—Night Club Bill| passed final stage. Motto for Diplomacy :—* First make | sure that you’re too late; then goahead.” ‘¢Mr. Balfour said in no circumstances did | | the authorities consider that adequate defence against night attacks by Zeppelins could be provided by aeroplanes. On Wednesday, the 13th inst., the weather conditions in the London area rendered it imppopspsipble for any large number to go up.”’ Gloucester Citizen. This gives you some idea of thedifficulty. ‘* WANTED, a Home for healthy Baby Girl, four mouths.”—Hull Daily Mail. | A healthy appetite too, we imagine, with such accommodation. ‘‘The weighty article in the Manchester Guardian of yesterday, from which we give extracts elsewhere, is the handwriting on the | wall to those who shut their eyes to the} | truth.’’—The Times. But unfortunately they don’t see it. ‘To-morrow (Sunday). — Church parade. ‘Fall in’ at Barnes Pond, 10 a.m. (without rifles).’’—Barnes and Mortlake Herald, Whatever may happen to the men their weapons are very properly to run no risks, A RONDEAU OF REGRET. (For THE 5TH OF NOVEMBER.) An effigy—a strange affair Of ancient clothing, past repair, All stuffed with straw; and for a head Old rags, to which is sewn with | thread A mask grotesque with baleful stare. Thus limned amid the bonfire’s glare We see you, WILHELM, as it were In proxy; in your royal stead— An effigy. We but regret, Imperial Herr, Youre not in person frizzling there. You thing of straw, with stuffing fed, Were your existence forfeited On such a pyre, then who would care An f-i g? ‘“‘T met the captured German cannon at 9-30 this morning being brought by the Royal Artillery on to the Horse Guards Parade, at the Birdcake Walk end.’’—Daily Despatch. The Bird Cake-walk (we prefer this arrangement) is only used on triumphal occasions and is the British version of the German goose-step.

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| November 3, 1915.) he ee 2 SAA kg ~ WR WAS — ax a4 re) DON CHARIVARL Irish Sergeant (sleeping in a ruined farmhouse somewhere in France). ‘‘ Here, BURKE, JUST SHLIP OUT AND SEE IF THERE'S A FRONT DOOR; AND, IF THERE IS, SHUT UT!”’’ W.G. So W.G. is no more! Cricket itself has suffered the cruellest wounds since |.August of last year, and now the Father | of it is laid low. And his place will | never be filled again. There could not | be another W. G.; there can be, if the Fates allow the game to recover, great cricketers ; but there can never be an- other so immeasurably the greatest— never another not only to play cricket as Grace did, but to be cricket as GRACE was, | Cricket and W. G. were indeed one. | Popular superstition and the reporters | had it that he was a physician, and it is | true that, when a wicket-keeper smashed | his thumb or a bumping ball flew into a | batsman’s face, first aid would be ad- | ministered in the grateful shade of the | “ Doctor's” beard ; but it was impossible really to think seriously of his medical activities, or indeed of any of his ac- | tivities off the field. Between Septem- | ber and May one thought of him as | hibernating in a cave, returning to life with renewed vigour with the opening of the season, his beard a little more imposing, his proportions a little more gigantic; so that each year the bat in his hand, as he walked to the wicket with that curious rolling tumbling gait, seemed a more trifling implement. With the mind’s vision one sees him in many postures, At the wicket:{and commenting. But the part of waiting, striking and running; and again bowling, in his large round action, coming in from the leg, with a man on the leg boundary a little finer than square, to catch the young- sters who lunged at the widish ball (his “ bread-and-butter trick” W. G. called it). One sees him thus and thus, and even retiring to the pavilion, either triumphantly—with not, of course, a 4 sufficient but an adequate score to his | credit—or with head bent pondering how it was he let that happen and forewarning himself against it next time. But to these reminiscent eyes the most familiar and characteristic attitude of all is W. G. among his men at the fall of a wicket, when they would cluster round to discuss the event and, no matter how tall they were, W. G.’s beard and shoulders would top the lot. Brave days for ever gone! Of late years, since his retirement, the Old Man, as he was best known among his fellow amateurs, was an occasional figure at Lord’s. More than a figure, a landmark, for he grew vaster steadily, more massive, more monu- mental. to have that Atlas back and _ those shoulders in front of one in the theatre ! At the big matches he would be seen on one of the lower seats of the pavilion with a friend on either side, watching Vhat must it have been like | ‘oracle sat very lightly upon him; he was ever a man of action rather than | of words; shrewd and sagacious enough, but without rhetoric. That his mind ‘worked with Ulysses-like acuteness | every other captain had reason to iknow; his tactics were superb. But he donned and doffed them with his flannels. In ordinary -life he was content to be an ordinary man. Although sixty-seven, he did not ‘exactly look old; he merely looked ‘older than he had been, or than any ‘such performer should be permitted to be. There should be a dispensation for such masters, by which W. G. with his bat, and Jonn Roperts with his i cue, and CiInQuEVALLI with his juggling ‘implements would be rendered immune ‘from Anno Domini. Almost to the end he kept himself fit, either with local |matches, where latterly he gave away |more runs in the field than he hit up, jnot being able to “get down” to the ball, or with golf or beagling. But the great beard grew steadily more ‘grizzled and the ponderous footfall j|more weighty. Indeed towards the last he might almost have been a work by MEstTROVICS, so colossal and cosmic were his lines. Peace to his ashes! _ look wpon his like again, | GRACE are ended, We shall never The days of

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| her case before the King, the _ unless we are to count the customary | _ misunderstanding between the lovers. | humanity in Mr. C. V. France’s lather | Whitehall Palace. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [NoveMBER 3, 1915. | innocence could be damaged by this | AT THE PLAY. | simple demonstration. Why, indeed, “ MAVOURNEEN.” lit should have come as a shock to so! WHEN a nation is busy fighting for | hardened a Court I could not conjec- | its existence it is well that it should | ture; she had danced before us at Castle | be constantly reminded of its noblest | O’Brien, in the First Act, with both her | traditions. “And here the maker of | stockings off and we hadn't blenched. | national pageants comes in. It is his} Miss Lity Enstz—a very popular | part, with the assistance of the cos-|resurrection—was always a delight to| tumier, the wig-maker, and sometimes |the eye, and, boy or girl, she played even the actor, to add flame to the| with a fine assurance. Happily for us country’s ardour. This thought, no} she was there most of the time; for in| doubt, is active in the brain of Mr.|her absence there was little enough to | Louis N. Parker, and it would there- | entertain us, though Mr. HaArker’s| fore seem that it must have been scenery afforded a pleasant distraction. | through mere inadvertence or elsea temporary aberration that he allowed his choice this time to fall upon the corrupt and frivolous Court of Cuarves IT. To suggest that the chance of bringing together the Merry Monarch and the Merry Widow (in the person of Miss Liny Eusiz) diverted him from the right path would be to cast too cynical a reflection upon his patriotism. And certainly it could not have been the male costumes of the period that attracted him, for nothing could well be uglier or more ridiculous. The comedy of Mavourneen is a very simple thing. Apart from the usual allowance of pageantry it concerns itself almost solely with the fortunes of Patricia O'Brien, To escape marriage with adetestable man, assigned to her by a detest- able father (neither of these villains appeared, so we had to take them on trust), she journeys to London in boy’s attire, with the idea of putting Li {juvrnet tt t EAI: eREWV- BUILT. Miss Liny Exsir. Mr. Matcotm CHE THE HOUSE THAT PAT Patricia O’Brien . . «+ « most natural person in the nee world to consult on a domestic matter of this kind. Here, her mission at once forgotten amid the novel diversions of the Court, she finds favour with the poor dusky Queen (very homesick for Braganza), and then attracts the roving eye of the Monarch. Her innocence, however, defeats him, and in a spasm Mr. Currry did his best to convey the | devastating seductiveness of the Mon- arch; and Mr. Greratp LAWRENCE (as Buckingham, with a taste for improvi- sation); Mr. Epwarp Sass (as Mr. Secretary Pepys); Mr. Gaver Mackay (as the fatuous Arlington); Miss ALIcE ,CrAwrForRD (as the notorious Lady of generous virtue he resigns her to | Castlemaine) and the rest of the courtiers the arms of the only honest man} made a brave show with their conven- in his entourage. Plot there is none, | tial tags and improbabilities. By contrast there was a refreshing It arose from an exhibition of the lady’s O’ltafferty and the Queen Catherine of legs before the assembled Court in, Miss ArHeNE SeyLer, a very charming There had been a little sketch. Mr. Reaiwatp Owen, question of rivalry in the matter of} whose natural voice and manner lack stockings and the shapeliness that they adaptability, was not very happy as covered; and Patricia, who was in the Patricia's lover. habit of wading through her native bogs I ought to add, in justice to Mr, with lifted skirts, failed to see how her, Parker, that there was War in the} air (talk of it, I mean, not Zeppelins) ; but what with the scandals at White- hall and a masked rout at The Pantiles, nobody had time to worry about the | Dutch question. 0.8. | OUR SUPER-OPTIMIST. THOUGH some people cry you nay Now and then, You ’ve a fascinating way With your pen ; For your style grows never stale, And to every weekly tale Even pessimists can wail An Amen. Yaad When our armies over-sea, You admit, Down along Gallipoli Have to sit, Are you ever once put out ? Do you harbour any doubt As to what they ’re all about ? | Not a bit. If the Russians backward glide | From the foe, | Or the turning of the tide | Seems but slow, | Do you ever cease to write | Of the triumph soon in sight | When the dawn ejects the | night ? | Oh dear, no. By “successes” of the Hun Never awed, You insist that ev'ry one Is a fraud ; Soon for peace, you they ‘ll sue, For you take the “ forward | view’; And I quite agree with you, Colonel Maupg, | | say, RRY. ‘The bride’s travelling dress was a khaki coat and skirt, and she wore a large picture.’’ Whitby Gazette. Artists hard-hit by the War are hoping that the new fashion will become general, ‘*The Editor regrets very much that no completely correct solution of the Acrostic set | in the last issue of the QUARTERLY was com- pletely correct.”’—Navy League Quarterly. So the Editor has very kindly set the | competitors another puzzle, as above. | ‘‘There was one child of the marriage, a | boy aged three years. He had been wounded | three times at the front, and had taken part in eight bayonet charges. He had now re- | covered and was about to return to the front | again.’’—Morning Paper. Sir ArrHurR Markuam, who has con- | demned the enlistment of boys, ought to look into this case.

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5 ‘a NovemMsBerR 3, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVART. | . 377 = Pectienicnsinn den ei worn ns); ; . , L§: nite- FIA PAE 1 hia ite- | V'iZa Tre aii \\ 2 iles, | —— Rkow 26 LER the | " S. | | | | 4 | 4 ‘ DS ee \ B, t? yt ut ? ard | e | ght | the “Have you a Sporting Life?” Bookstall Clerk (at lonely country station), ‘Not very!” un ' 5 ae .— a, THE BALLAD OF THE RESURRECTION PACKET. -Ou, she’s in from the deep water, she’s safe in port once; A bit west the Scillies we thought her sure to sink, } inn , . , . more, rhere was ‘alfa gale blowin’, the sky was black as ink, ay, With shot ‘oles in the funnel which were not there before ;} The seas begun to mount an’ the wind begun to thunder, Yes, she’s ‘ome, dearie, ome, an’ we ‘ve ’alf the sea inside!| An’ every wave that come, oh, we thought ’twould roll ‘er ard Ought to ’ave sunk, but she couldn’t if she tried. under. | D | An’ j ras “’Ome arie, ome she'll bring "ome . , “ , , ' 1] a, | An’ it w . ne, @earie, ?ome, oh, she’ll bring us ’ome But it was “’Ome, dearie, ’ome, an’ shell get there after all, ’ some day, : peer yer } or” oes oe Steamin’ when she can steam, an’ when she can’t she'll Rollin’ both rails under in the old sweet way, Freezin’ in the foul weather, fryin’ in the fine, The resurrection packet of the Salt ’Orse Line!” crawl; This year, next year—rain or storm or shine drown. She ’s the resurrection packet of the Salt 'Orse Line!’ iaki | ‘ pee The resurrection packet of the Salt "Orse Line!”’ e.” | If she’d been built for sinkin’ she’d have done it long ago; e. | She’s tried her best in every sea an’ all the winds that blow,’ We thought about the bulk-’eads—we wondered if they'd ing In hurricanes at Galveston, pamperos off the Plate, last, me | An’ icy Cape 'Orn snorters which freeze you while you wait. An’ the cook ’e started groanin’ an’ repentin’ of the past ; She's been ashore at Vallipo, Algoa Bay likewise, But thinkin’ an’ groanin’, oh, they wouldn't shift the water, no | She’s broke her screw-shaft off Cape Race an’ stove ’er SO we got the pumps a-workin’ same as British seamen set bows in ice, oughter. om- | She’s lost ’er deck-load overboard an’ ’alf ‘er bulwarks too, If she'd 1 k li he'd’ li] | . . . . > . . vay « ye . ner > , y » 7a) Pi : ti n 43 ——— An’ she’s come in with fire aboard, smokin’ like a flue. {she ‘d OR © CASE SRST ERS S OO Gee a 8 eee the | But it’s “’O hatte ¢ h. sk ; ; \n’ why she didn’t sink is a thing as can’t be known; 2. Sut it's me, dearie, ome, oh, she gets there Just the same, Our arms was made of lead, our backs was split with Reekin’, leakin’, ’alf a wreck, scarred an’ stove an’ lame; niet’ } oteh ’er j r lads. tie ’er » ty . . ° , ‘ : : . a Pate h er up with putty, lads, ule ef up with Swine, But we pumped ’er into port just before the day was ded The resurrection packet of the Salt ‘Orse Line! hineuinde? ¥ art A bit west the Scillies the sky was stormy red, Pst | “To-night we'll lift Saint Agnes Light if all goes well,” we For it was “’Ome, dearie, ‘ome, oh, she'll bring us ‘ome oO | . . | said, some day, m- But we met a slinkin’ submarine as dark was comin’ down, | Don’t you’ear the pumps a-clankin’ in the old sweet way ” An’ she ripped our rotten plates away an’ left us there to | This year, next year—rain or storm or shine sht ’ : ;

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| about half a minute. | great a strain on it, you know. | of training.” | lost . ‘j | and submitted my plan of campaign. | impressed, but | down 378 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [November 3, 1915, ee his;" and so you'll all spend a very plossont evening over | THE DIARY. the old diary and the 11.12 train.” ” “Francesca,” I said, “ what was I doing yesterday ? “T haven’t the remotest idea,” she said. ‘I don’t keep a watch on your incomings and your outgoings. I've got | quite enough to do to look after myself.” “T do not,” I said, “ perceive in you that willingness to help the distressed which is one of the most precious | jewels in the crown of womanhood. You might brush up) your memory a bit and help a chap.” “But why does a chap want to be helped?” “A chap,” I said, ‘“‘wants to be helped because he’s posting up his diary. I give you my word of honour, Francesca, my mind is a perfect blank as to what I did yesterday. I can remember quite clearly things that happened fifty years ago, but about yesterday I’m utterly “Very well, then,” she said, “I'll dictate. Are you ready? Go. ‘After breakfast, wrote an epic in twelve books ’—they’re always in twelve books, you know— ‘wiped out Homer and put Mitton on a back seat. After luncheon called on Lord KircHener at the War Oflice He seemed much 299 “T wish,” I said, “you could manage to be serious for You don’t seem to realise what this means to me. a “Oh, yes,” she said, “I do. depends upon getting it right. my first effort, I'll try again. “No, don’t,” I said; “it only puts me off.” “Then you'll have to be put off. Listen: ‘Got out of bed late. Shaved with safety razor. Gashed myself twice. Spoke gently but firmly. Hada bath. Put on blue serge suit and black boots. Breakfasted—eggs and bacon. Re: ad Times. Gloomier than ever. Then - “Hurrah!” I said. “I’ve got it. Don’t speak to me. Let me write it down quickly before I forget it. There, it’s I know your happiness However, if you don’t like “ How frightfully exciting,” she said. ‘“ Read it out at once. “ Yes,” I said, “here it is:—* Went to London by the 11.12 train.’ You can’t think what a relief that is to me. It’s so jolly to feel that one still has a memory.” “Tt must be,” she said. “ But it won't do to put too It’s a gallant memory, but you must ride it gently.” “There you go again,” I said. “Do I?” she said pensively. “I’m wondering how it | feels to have a memory like that. It must have taken a lot | “Oh, no,” I said, “not much. It just does it.” | “ And that,” she said, “is how diaries are made, is it?” “Yes,” I said proudly, “ that’s how.” | “ But what’s the point of it?” she said. “ Why do you | want to put a thing like that down in your diary? It doesn’t seem to be so tremendously important, after | all.” | \-—————— “Oh, Francesca,” I said, ‘don’t you see? Some day, | years hence, you and the children—they ‘ll all be grown up| then, by the way, but no matter—you’ll all be sitting | round the fire in the library, and Muriel will say, ‘Let’s have | a read of Dad’s diary,’ and you'll fetch it out of its box and | perhaps you ‘Il pitch on this very entry and read it out: ea ‘Went to London by the 11.12 train.” And then after a moment or two Nina will say, ‘That was Dad’s favourite | train,’ and Alice will say, ‘ What a good train-catcher Dad | was. You don’t find many like him in these days ;’ and | Frederick will say, ‘Iw oneer if dad wore that ub Euemny hat of “You touch me deeply,” said Francesca. “I see there's some use in a trivial diary after all.” “T’m glad of that,” I said. “I will now complete the record for the day. Let me see: ‘Lunched at Club with Billington. Drilled with platoon of Volunteers after dinner.’ the whole day for you.” “What a good driller Francesca with a smile. ‘“‘He did his best,’ I said. Francesca, that if you ever drill a platoon there’s one thing you must beware of.” “ What’s that?” she said. ““As you value your peace of mind,” I said, “don’t try and get them rear-rank in front. If you want to break up a column of fours into its component particles all you've got to do is to shout out, ‘On the right form platoon’ (or left, as the case may be—whichever ought to bring the rear-rank in front) and watch the result. It’s enough to make a cat laugh, let alone a Sergeant-Major.” “ But Ser, geant- Majors don’t laugh, do they ?” “ Not muel:,” I said. “How can they ? There ’s of Volunteers Dad was!” ~ . } Returned home by 5.50 from Paddington. said | “And let me tell you, | They pass | their time in a world where everybody is always making | mistakes and nobody is ever as smart as he ought to be.” “ Have you ever,” she said, “tried your Sergeant-Major with your diary? He might get a smile or two out of that.’ “ He’d have to remind it to form two deep first. That would be an absolutely essential preliminary.” “‘T’]l remember that,” she said, weekly books.” R. C. L. ARMS AND THE WOMAN. “when next I drill my (‘‘The military and naval fondness for tattooing has spread to | many young women in London, who are having the name and often the regimental badge of their swains indelibly arms.’’—Daily Express. } Amelia, I am haunted by the thought That this distressing news refers to you; That, tiring of the commonplace, you sought For something new, And rushed off in a mad impulsive mood To do this foolish thing—to be tattooed. A fashion that would shock the common throng Is just the thing in which you would delight ; I hope with all my heart that I am wrong, But, if I’m right, Your folly will effectively prevent My showing off my one accomplishment. For out here, in the midst of War’s alarms, We sometimes have a sing-song, and, you see, I always sing, “ I know of two white arms Waiting for me;”’ But if those arms with pictures are bedecked I sing no more. My repertoire is wrecked. Note added by Officer censoring letters. Dear Madam, this intrusion may seem rude, But I, alas, have suffered with the rest. If up to now you haven’t been tattooed, Might I suggest You go and get it done without delay. Send us the bill. We'll very gladly pay. A Bath Revival. ‘At 4 o'clock one morning the Fire Brigade arrived and washed | its rhein tthadh front, which is much the better for the om 4 marked on their | | | |

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he | ng jor rat | en eir | ed NoveMBER 3, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE Dae Se Teed satel a et Sai 2 POC nee Nis sine ey ARE Snake: STARTED LAST WEEK,”’ LONDON CHARIVARIT. 379 AT THE PANEL DOCTOR’S. Gentleman (who has been steadily reading for the last hour). ‘You Go Next, Ma’am; I’vE ONLY COME HERE TO FINISH A story I OUR BOOKING-OFFICE., (By Mr. Punch’s Staff of Learned Clerks.) | In these days a fairy fantasy by Mr. F. ANstey comes | like a breath from the old happiness. How many years is it that he has been compelling our laughter with that delightful jumble of magic and modernity of which he owns the secret ? Authority (SmirH, ELpER), shows what I may call the Anstey formula as potent as ever. Take a stodgy family, types of latter-day Suburbia; add a fascinating governess (Mr. Anstey, if he will allow me to say so, seems some- thing of a specialist in nice governesses—this one is own cousin to her who married The Man from Blankley’s), and translate them all to fairyland as rightful heirs to the throne of that kingdom. There is your scheme. But only the author, in his own grave-faced way, can tell you the countless solemn absurdities of its working out. Myself, of all the Wzbberley-Stimpson family I got most fun out of the daughter, who had been taken unwill- ingly from a course of lectures on literature, and was frankly bored with the pomp and circumstance of a fairy court. A boredom entirely reciprocated by her attend- | book that it was “after he had come under the spell | of Petrarch and Boccaccio that Chaucer produced his wondrous Tales.” Though even then, says Mr. Anstey, “ it appeared their interest was due to a misapprehension.” But I will not try to describe the trials of this ill-suited family, nor their endeavours to propitiate their subjects by And here the latest story, In Brief ants; till they cheer up on hearing from the royal note- | | knitting woollen vests for the gnomes, or floating a company for the sale of tables replenishable by magic. Nor again— since I have told you about the governess—need I say who eventually turns out be the rightful claimant. It is all excellent fooling, with, in one place, just a suspicion of allegory thrown in as ballast. And what a theme for a Christmas Play! I am inclined deliberately to call Miss Marsorte Bowen | the first of our costume novelists. I know of no one who can so fill a book with the atmosphere of the past, or whose characters wear their fine feathers with so compel- ling an air of custom. Her latest story, Because of These Things (METHUEN), is the strongest, though not the most | pleasant, work she has yet given us. It is a tragedy of | clashing temperaments, with an old plot, told often before | by many writers, in many settings, from the author of | Othello onward. The husband here is Francis Moutray of Glenillish, a Calvinistic Scots lord, who, coming as a | fiercely disapproving visitor to the gay life of eighteenth- century Bologna, is surprised by an overmastering passion and elopes with the young Giovanna, a lovely Papist, | daughter of a notorious patrician house. what inevitably must have followed such a union. The instrument of the catastrophe is the child, whom Giovanna has secretly received into the Faith which love for her husband had made her outwardly renounce. When Moutray learns of this he kills his wife, and virtually his son also. Thenceforward the tale moves by darkening paths to the end that was foreshadowed at its start. “All What follows is |

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380 PUNCH, OR THE LON DON CHARIVARI. [NovemBER 3, 1915. this latter half of the book is pervaded with such a sense | of doom and horror that the effect of it is almost unbearable. | morals that, | latest exploit and seemed to expect my _ sure I should say, “ Splendid, old man!” | effect. | Boon). | of it ourselves, | | page—and probably afterwards. | heir he is, and goes on to! That is why, though I congratulate Miss Bowrn whole- heartedly upon a piece of imaginative writing that reveals unsuspected power, I cannot exactly recommend the result to those in search of cheerful entertainment, or a bedside soporific. Certainly not the latter, would be bound to stay awake till the turning of the last So don’t say that I didn’t warn you. I am one of those weak-minded persons so lacking in if a criminal came to me and told me his sympathy, I am or words to that I am afraid I must sia” ae cas a have taken the wrong point! of view when reading The ~~ Sy Man in Motley (M1tus AND + The story opens, with Ulick Shreeve plotting | \ and achieving the murder) of his rich cousin, whose *% ~— relate his subsequent ap-'! prehensions lest the crime | be traced to him. All the} time that I should have been recoiling” in horror from Ulick I was making | myself his accomplice. I ." os him about, saying, : ew Ass, you’ve forgotten td = F " y > DECORATIONS hide the revolver!’’ and 7 mae | BY “ Don’t leave that obvious y, SL, HOHENCOLLERO clue, you idiot; it’s the first 4 thing they'll look for;”) rs tease eee with the result that, as the} p= EePIRE net closed more and more Count $5 DECORATOR securely about him, I be- Ne came quite depressed, and felt, when he finally shot, himself—there is no capital for the dullest reader him my approv al. Nothing seems more unnecessary than to say of two brave types that one is braver than the other, and when “ B.-P.” claims that the courage of a field spy is something greater than “the ordinary bravery of a soldier in action” he may be right, but he ruffles me to the last feather. Anyhow, if, as he says, “the pluck of the man who goes out alone, unobserved and unapplauded, and at the risk of his life, is surely something more admirable,” it is time we had a new word for this class of patriot. So infamously disreputable has the word “spy” become that I would suggest that our amateur military experts should cease from their self-imposed labour of telling us how the War ought to be managed and find an honourable name for those brave men (on our side, of course) whose observations are of so v ital a value. a _— I am very much obliged c : ae to Mr. Ropert A. HamBiin ‘pe oa ‘for introducing me to him- KY. iself and The Heart of : | Joanna (Lona). I pass on ‘the introduction, feeling pretty sure you will really like the author on this first ; ‘acquaintance, dismal SN ce enough though most of » what he says may be; and quite certain that the lady he has charmed into exist- ence will win your hearts and make you, or almost make you, forgive the gloom she is called upon to illu- it mine. Seeing that beyond . denial the life of a strug- gling undertaker and _ his family in the East End is liable to be a sordid one, to read all about it with enjoy- ment requires, besides truth in the writer, which is here triumphantly present, some inward contentment, none punishment for murderers Ree too common these times, in fiction—that I had lost a oe |in the reader. So I shall friend. It was wrong of, oe. ARS Sa jadvise you to wait for an . | Gay goer = «@ . ~ » ererrwner — Mery . me AP ° . ° him, of course, to allow an! EVEN IN THE ACT OF SURRENDER THE LANDSTURMER DOES NOT evening of good news, with FORGET HIS COMMERCIAL INSTINCTS, WHICH HAVE MADE HIM WHAT innocent man to go to prison a bright moonlight, before eae HE Is. : Fs in his stead, but we plotters discovering how Mr. Krewser cannot bother about trifles. I have not yet got rid of the| went bankrupt, say, and Mrs. Vane went hungry. After feeling that poor old Ulick had rotten luck. The late| agreeing to accept, for Art’s sweet sake and fortified Tom GALLON, whose posthumous work the tale is, had the knack of story-telling. He was never slow off the mark, and, once started, he did not allow his readers’ attention to flag. The Man in Motley is a book which, if you read that sort of book at all, you will finish at a sitting. It is an ingenious story; indeed the trouble with Ulick was that he was far too ingenious. was making the thing much too complicated, but he would not listen to me. It.-General Sir Ropert Bapen-Powe 1, in My Adventures as a Spy (PEARSON), gives abundant proofs of his resourceful courage, and his little book is most genuinely welcome as the work of a man who has again and again held his life in his hands. So long as he is telling us what he has done and why he did it, and is teaching us how we may do some I am with him all the time. It is only when he begins to generalise that I cease to extend to I told him at the time that he} as above suggested, a story that is depressing because, in spite of a sort of happy ending, its prevailing tone of drab tragedy is so remorselessly possible, you will very likely go on, as I did, to grumble at one or two minor things —ques- tions ecclesiastical, where one would like to raise a point of | of poison that seems | more | instance, and a imatter rather a pity, and of a ballet girl that is rather than a pity. But I think you will agree in the end that The Heart of Joanna is a book of real value and even of power, and Joanna herself delightful. order, for «A PLACE IN THE Sun’ Company. Wantep shortly, smart Actor must be capable of giving a delicate, gentlemanly drunken Wife not objected to if capable of speaking two or three lines."’ The Era. In the circumstances described most wives would regard this as an absurdly inadequate allowance of tongue. above ; scene, for small but important part in |

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ey 5. shan the field of a the nan d at le,” So shat yuld 10W ible ose in Crh ” | NovemBer 10, 1915.] 331 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL has been promised that the integrity CHARIVARIA. of her eaioe shall be preserved. As GERMANY has admitted that twenty-'!he hates going back on his bond it seven of her submarines have been will save him a lot of trouble if the| caught in English nets and has com-/| Allies capture the wretched place for | plained to neutral Powers of this|themselves. method of capturing them. She con- | siders that it would be more in accord- ance with the traditions of British sportsmanship if they were taken on the fly—the Grey-fly for choice. * % One of the most popular toys this | year is a submarine which fires torpe- does at a German warship. The great }charm of it is that the ship, though | temporarily shattered, can be put to- * gether again ina minute. The Kaiser} It is stated that the Primate of |is greatly taken with the notion, and| Huneary has offered to the military is trying hard to get a ~~~ - |specimen for Admiral | | Trrpitz’s Christmas tree. : | | A Parliamentary chronicler informs | us that as the Prime Minister talked of the low percentage of losses under naval transport Mr. Batrour slowly leant forward and solemnly touched the wood of the clerk’s table. But, if we | were to believe all we hear in the daily | press, the head of some colleague would have served his purpose just as well. i It is rumoured that! | in view of the re | preponderance of women | inthe Fatherland “ plural | marriages’ will shortly | | be authorised. Having | set out to be super-men | the Germans may end by | | being super-Mormons. | | By an arrangement of longstanding the Kaiser acts as godfather to the seventh and eighth sons born in succession to any of his subjects. With the desire of encouraging the production of “ can- | 'non-fodder’”’ for future | use he has now extended | ithe offer to seventh, |——— leighth, or ninth even a daughter or daughters may have OUR ADMIRALTY. A HINT TO Dummy BABY DESIGN TO TEMPT THE GERMAN FLEET TO though | authorities all the church-bells in the country in order that they may be Sons, intervened. If the present shortage transformed into cannon. Residents of food continues there will soon be|in certain parts of the Metropolis are hoping that the Archbishop of many Esaus in the Godfatherland, CANTERBURY will be equally patriotic. ready to sell their birthright for a mess of pottage. .. , * * We regret to learn from Mr. and | Mrs. Eustace Mines that after the December issue the publication of their | jentertaining magazine, Healthward Ho! | will be suspended until the War is| Among the reasons for this step Among the news-items circulated by | the Embassy in New York to show Germany's staying-power is the an- nouncement that the subscriptions to the German Derby for 1917 are one hundred and forty-five, or nearly as over. is the number of subscribers that have | many as for this year. But the! gone to the Front; or, in other words, | Americans are believed to be more’ the shortage of * nuts.” impressed with the number of entries ; secured for the British Derby. It isa mistake to suppose that the | ag official restrictions placed upon Fifth | of November celebrations were due to fear of Zeppelins. The fact is that] recent debates in the House of Lords | have persuaded the Government that the criminal intentions of Guy FAwKkEs | The future of Constantinople is caus- ing some anxiety to the Karsrr. He has offered it to Greece for keeping out of the War, and to Bulgaria for coming in, and to Russia if she will have been grossly exaggerated, In an appeal for recruits issued by a certain London battalion it is stated that “ men joining have the knowledge that it is one of the best-fed regiments in the Army, six meals a day being served.” We learn from the Front that in preparation for the advent of these Gargantuan heroes the communication- trenches have lately been widened. Following upon a Press campaign in favour of “ Polar meat” a Berlin res- taurant is now supplying “ Walsisch- schnitzel (whale cutlet), Walfischriicken (saddle of whale), and Walfischbraten (whale steak)” on the days when | butcher’s meat isforbidden. A customer who tactlessly asked for Walfisch Bay was informed that it was “ off.” The Literary Touch. ‘*Mr. Parker . . . has not attempted to accommodate | creat events to a dramatic | tale. History 1s merely his background for a story drawn | from his imagination. While | he was about it, he might |} have drunk more deeply of the Hyperion Spring, c., | &e.”’—Globe. ** Tt is officially announced that a Russian fleet in the Baltic Sea to-day bombarded the batteries and harbour | works at Varna.”’ | Morning Paper. | Theymust have borrowed \“the guns 9,000 feet |high” which, according to another journal, the | Italians have been using. | ; | ‘*The unsuccessful might OUT. | paraphrase Byron — thus }*Never the cheap btrving chance, the dear selling opportunity, and the capital together.’’— Manchester Guardian But surely Browninc hos already parodied Byron thus: “Never the time and the place and the loved one all together.” COME ‘*T also invite my friends to partake of sup per quite al fresco in place of the bountiful high tea which is the usual custom of my class and district.’’"—The Weekly Telegrap Romantic, but a little chilly at this time of year. A Sinecure. *CapaBLe Mother’s- Help. Com home. No children.”’ The Lady. torta bie **The Sandwich Islands are separated from other lands bya broad expanse and great depth of sea. The unique position of these islands in mid-Atlantic is of vast importance The Wireless World Oh, this world-war! Even the San wich Islands appear to have aba: done their Pacitic attitude. make a separate peace, while Turkey VOL, CXLIX. 1)

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382 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. MOF. I nitrite worry when I’m told That my orthography is gauche: I spell it ‘ Bosch,” though scholars scold And all the leading linguists hold I ought to spell it “ Boche.” Let every pedant have his fun And every learned prig his fad; By any name beneath the sun It’s my opinion that the Hun Would smell about as bad. Thus, where the border-fence is laid Between the Belgians and the Dutch (And when you strike it in the shade Electrocution’s artful aid Deletes you at a touch), The Netherlanders, lying low, But taking neutral leave to scoff, Have found a name by which to know The Teuton beast, the common foe— They call the thing a ‘“ Mof.” This word (I like it well enough : The spelling’s Dutch, but let it pass) Means, being tantamount to “ Muff,” A cyjinder of hairy stuff, Also a silly ass. O. §S. REX OF THE TRANSPORT. In the dark ages, when the battalion was still uncertain of its fate and the men returned nightly to comfortable billets and long evenings, he was doubtless the property of some up-to-date brewer, who regarded him without enthusiasm as an item on the asset side of his balance-sheet. Among so many others it was not to be expected that he should attract special notice, but one likes to think that even in those days he bore himself proudly, as a king should. Other horses may have been sullen or restless as their moods prompted, but he stood aloof, removed in thought | above the things of earth, serene and stoical like Marcus tinge of mute contempt for beings who could derive pleasure from such useless and undignified pursuits. Where we, however, thought to discern a mystic aloof- ness from common interests and desires, his companions saw only a firm concentration of purpose, a rapt intensity of thought, which they dreaded but could not understand. Because of this no horse would face his glance. It is rumoured that at night-time, from his place of honour on the right of the line, he quelled disturbance by a turn of the head. It is certainly true that since his coming no picket has had to face the fear of a stampede in those dreaded small hours before the dawn, when the grass begins to rustle mysteriously and long shadows creep about the horses’ feet. Equally is it true that no picket has ever seen him sleep. Sometimes in the chill of early morning ‘he has been noticed slowly and solemnly alternating his 'weight from one hind foot to the other, but for the most part he stands four-square and motionless throughout the ‘night, keeping watch and guard over his subjects. Sleep he doubtless must, even as every living thing, but it is a |concession to the flesh which he makes grudgingly and in secret, as though ashamed of his own weakness and afraid lest he should be found unworthy of his trust. Al- ways he succeeds in retaining such a measure of his facul- ties as will enable him to be found awake at each recurring inspection of the line. When at last Reveille summons the world to another day’s work, he submits to having himself groomed without protest but with evident boredom. The only evidence of interest in the proceedings which he displays is when, his rug having been loosened, he reaches round and drags it carefully from his back. It is his one parlour-trick, his sole expression of gratitude, his solitary tribute to the superior intellect of Man. By it he admits his dependence on the powers that guide his life. Failing it we might have admired his strength and respected his serenity, but we could never have loved him. Because of it we know that his detachment is that of the philosopher and not of the cynic, and that beneath his grave exterior there beats a warm heart. Some day, when the War is over, he will return to civil life. His brief reign ended, he will take his place once more among the obscure and civilian legions of the prosperous brewer. Will he look back with regret on the days of _ Auretius of old. Perhaps he felt that his hour was soon| his kingship, or will the memory of them, like a bright to strike, perhaps he was up-borne by faith, intuition, second | jewel, help to sustain him through the dark years that sight—call it what you will; or perhaps his own calm strength alone sustained him. Certain it is that he came to us without hesitation and without fear, but also without rejoicings. It was as if he had but stepped into the place prepared for him, which he knew was his by right. From the very first his claim was never questioned. For this he was partly indebted to the dignity of his bearing, and partly to the beauty and immensity of his vast frame. ‘He strode our little world like a Colossus,” and to us of the Transport Section, watching the smooth play and ripple of his mighty muscles, he seemed indeed less suited to perform the menial tasks allotted to him than to delight the pure soul of the artist. But most of all I think he owed his supremacy to his eye. Large, dark and compelling, it seemed to combine the wisdom of centuries with the naive wonderment of a child. were times when one could read in it the pensiveness that is born of knowledge, and times when it seemed to look out on the world with an air of gentle surprise. Thus, when, standing at ease during the loading of his G. S. wagon, he heard the regimental band strike up within a few yards of him, he merely turned on it a gaze of mild inquiry. Yet in that gaze there was an unquestionable | There | /must pass before he goes down-hill with his last load? Time alone can tell, but we who knew him in his greatness and must desert him in his poverty wish him the best wish we know: a painless dropping of the traces and, when the time comes, a dreamless sleep. ‘*The Minor Horrors of War.’’ ‘The following list of articles sent gives some idea of the work of the Committee in respect of the Royal Scots during the past twelve months :—Socks, 14,161 pairs ; gloves, 3404 pairs; shirts, 5797 ; mufflers, 2788; helmets, 2126; handkerchiefs, 2780; Tommy’s cookers, 1000 ; insect powder, 1700 tons, &c., &c.’’—Scotsman. ‘* We return to find the University yet further depleted in numbers, though not far short of 1,000 undergraduates are at present in resi- /dence. The 600 odd dons also still about thus enable us to muster quite a respectable total.’’—Cambridge Magazine. The senior members of the University have their uses, then. ‘* £3 Rewarp.—Losr. Oct. 21st, about 10 p.m. in taxicab, between Hippodrome and Great Titchfield-street, brown Fur Stotr, Minx.” Morning Paper. | It is to be hoped that the loser deserves a better sobriquet ‘than she gives herself. And is “ Minx” sure that the fur | was stole ? [NovemBer 10, 1915,

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5. --_—— ———$—$——_ rive loof- | ions sity and. a att | | ron n of x no hose gins the ever ning + his nost : the leep is a and | ! and Al- icul- ring ther 10ut e of his ‘Ss it his the ance ight but now t of its a civil nore rous s of ight that vad ? ness best "hen work | past TOT 5 my’s bers, resi- | uster hen. ween er. quet > fur PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—NovemBeEr 10, 1915, | \\ 2\ Sy / a su i ANNUM | | || saa Wor | | "WW corp MAYOR'S BANQUET si) , NOV Q! ut Ae | Nw} dart ok ie ts? teas Gets om ——.. : EA\\\ 1 om (0000 ———— — BANQUETING AS USUAL. TO WAR-ECONOMY!” Goa (to Magog). “ WELL, HERE'S — ee

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a a FF A LA. lc OA ee wa CLP oA on hetteri bey hi = ; NZ -V lowntew > | i —=— \ ; \ \V Rickey. ‘‘ MornHeR, HOW OLD Is DAD?”’ Mother. ‘‘ Forty-THREE, DEAR. WuHy?”’ Rickey. ‘On, I 1am Guap. I WAS AFRAID HE’D FUNKED.”’ = ec ae (though I am not precluded from INSIDE KNOWLEDGE. expressing the eslaiens tas they may We have had the extraordinary luck to | soon reach the highest attainable degree intercept, on ats way fo * The Daily of intensity), also press for recognition. Telegraph,” the following despatch , Their sufficiency may be chimerical from the Sphinx of the Balkans. but it can with truth be predicated that It is right that the British Nation their influence must tell—though I am should be apprised of the crucial fact, unfortunately not free to enter into that the whole question of Italian | details the knowledge of which would activity in the Balkans turns upon the| dispel those appearances that lend peremptory need of establishing in how colour to the opposite belief. far belligerent action may prove to be| The attitude of Roumania is still the congruous with the resources at the} subject of much misapprehension in disposal of the Consulta and in how | Allied diplomatic cireles—in spite of far they may prove to be proportionately | my article of February 13th last. And adaptable to the realization of Allied here let me say, in passing, that on aspirations. This truth was revealed those days when nothing new from | in a telegram which I have just received |my pen is received in London the | from a souree that I am not at liberty | diplomatic atmosphere might well be | to divulge; but I have first-hand | lightened by the reprinting of daily in- knowledge to guide me, if any guidance | stalments of my former contributions were desiderated. And the conclusion | during the past five years. This should tallies exactly with my forecast of last prove a safeguard against a dangerous May—unfortunately overlooked at the | lapse into bewilderment on the part of ‘time. On this point the Giolittist civilian opinion in the Allied countries. | Stampa, the Salandrist Giornale, For though much has happened since d'Italia and the Briandist /yaro are these pronouncements were made there all in agreement; and satisfaction is; has been nothing to vitiate their con- expressed that the Dillonist Daily clusions, or what I may call their Telegraph approves their attitude. continuous applicability or adapta- Other extraneous considerations of bility to future conditions which had an influential character, which it would yet. to be created and which differ be inopportune to analyse at present materially from those obtaining at the moment when my opinions were adumbrated. Whether or no Roumania will display any velleity with regard to joint action |with the Central Powers is known to | certain judges who have watched the diplomatic contest at close quarters or mentally reconstructed it, and whose views are at my disposal. In any case it would bea rash assumption that such endeavours as I may have made on my own part to influence the course of history—in negotiations that may be published elsewhere—have proved in- fructuous. I earnestly hope that the pregnant facts here emphasised will be duly weighed and reckoned with. Meanwhile Athens is positively wee- villed with Germans. ‘*Should your umbrella turn inside-out, don’t try that ‘ old woman's trick’ of pushing it against the wall. Grasp it at the ferrule end, with the right hand ; then place it behind the body on the left-hand side. Next, place the left hand on the hip with the arm en- circling the stick; then simultaneously pull with the right hand and push with the left arm. This sounds rather complicated but is really very simple in practice.”’ Everywoman’s Weekly. It may be for Everywoman ; but to the mere man it seems like jiu-jitsu.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL [November 10, 1915, THE GAP. I atways try to be neighbourly, but people who keep hens which are not chained up are a nuisance. There is a small paddock at the bottom of my garden belonging to a man named Petherton, and, owing to the Statute of Mortmain or some other silly old enactment, the hedge dividing this field from my garden belongs to Petherton. . Of course it does not on that account refuse to act for both of us. It does its best to bound my garden. But the other day I noticed a fair- sized gap in this hedge. I have no | objection to such a gap as a gap, but | to-day that any dependants | or chattels of yours, call | were the cause of the an- when it acts as an early door for poultry to enter my garden from Petherton’s demesne, it is time to see about it. I saw aboutit. I wrote to Petherton as follows :— ‘ae My pear Sir,—I have hesitated to draw your at-| tention before to a small} jf matter which is causing “ek some annoyance, because I | dislike complaining, because [ hate writing letters, and because I had not suffi- ciently direct evidence till them what you will (I have called them several names), noyance. This morning, however, I found my wife’s favourite | flower-bed torn up, and| several feathers (enclosed) | adhering to my side of the hedge (if either side of a'- hedge belonging to you can be said t be mine) at the bottom of my garden. If your hens wish to dig themselves in, could you not give them some facilities for doing so on your own premises, or at least prevent their doing so on mine by repairing the hedge, which, according to cap. Vic. (the com- plete reference escapes me at the moment), is your concern and yours only ? Trusting your late potatoes or early The af wenoy, | onions, whichever it is that I can see from my windows, are doing well, Iam, Faithfully yours, Henry J. Forpyce. As I didn’t get any reply to this, I | thought perhaps my letter was not sufficiently friendly, so I tried again. Dear Mr. PeETHERTON,—What a wet day it has been to be sure! My garden is all mud and feathers, thanks to the rain and the inroad of a battalion of star-spangled Wyandottes or blue- pencilled Leghorns, which attacked my premises at early dawn and retired Fond Mother. ‘* Ay, WHAT I THINK OF YOU IN THAT AWFUL SUB’ARINE, WITH ONLY THE PERISCUP TO BREATHE THROUGH.”’ before my boot batteries had time to get into action. I am writing merely to prepare you in case a similar raid should be made on your property, especially as the predatory force was seen to be marching in single file through a breach in your own defences. How are your arti- chokes ? Yours sincerely, Henry J. Fordyce. This elicited the following from Petherton :— Str,—I have received two absurd letters from you and am as yet un- decided whether or not to bring them to the notice of the Lunacy Commis- sioners. Personally I think you are quite mad. In reference to your imaginary grievance, if you would give your wretched cat more to eat it would not DEAR LAD, THERE ’S NOT A DAY noise it makes at night is appalling and keeps both me and my poultry! awake. The feathers you enclosed, and which \I return, are evidently either out of your wife’s boa, which I noticed last | Sunday is moulting, or belonged to some victim of your poor starving cat. Your imagination in the early morn- ing is too vivid. You should consult a doctor. Yours truly, FREDERICK PETHERTON. P.S.—I don’t grow artichokes, po- tatoes or onions. I must be yet more friendly, I said, for the sake of the garden. Dear PetHErtTON (I wrote),—Thanks for yours of uneven date (his figures | were illegible), and in reply [ am sorry to hear that you and your charming fowls are such light sleepers. that my cat is in the habit of meet- ing his friends after closing time, but disturbed my rest. be compelled to dig for food. The! I know | _ As regards your anxiety about |Thontas’s internal affairs, 1 will make further inquiries into his food accounts and let you know the result. By the way, I notice that Parsons, in the High Street, has some odd lengths of wire netting for sale. You might care to |have a look at them. | Yours ever, Harry Forpyce, Petherton’s reply, after a few days, 'was brief:—Go to the deuce.—F. P. | I thought I would try one even more friendly letter before resorting to sterner | measures, so gave off the subjoined :— | My DEAR o“p CxHap,—So many |thanks for your kind invitation, which |however it is absolutely impossi- Ible to accept for the present, as I \find on reference to my engagement | book that I am very full up for the ;next week or two. ~ . By the way, old man, you were right about Thomas, afterall. It comes of leaving these matters to servants. However, I have 'taken the matter in hand myself at last. I have changed his diet to Indian ;corn and hot porridge, and | I have put up a dinky little | garden house for him, with | two or three cosy hay-lined |nests, and in each nest a new golf-ball. The result b astonishing. The dear }old thing is showing his gratitude in the only way ‘he can. He lays one, two ‘and sometimes three eggs ¢ |day. My wife is delighted, as really fresh eggs are so - high in price just now. So there is no need to worry about the hedge, especially as I find that by going down on all fours and peering through the gap I can obtain a delight- ful vista of meadow land, and such a vista is always an attraction, don’t you think ? Yours to a cinder, Harry. As I was shaving I saw Petherton ‘this morning blocking up the vista. ome brute ! | | PASSES BUT | A Vocal Phenomenon. | **Miss Bertha Lewis, the D’Oyly Carte | contralto, who is so rapidly coming tothe front, is in private life Mrs. Herbert Heyner, the | young baritone who has done such good work | in classic concerts.’’—Leicester Mail. ‘* Over the whole basin of the Atlantic there is spread an enormously thick covering of what seems to be mud, but is really a mixture | of tiniest shells, either perfect or in pieces, ' that need the microscope to be seen. This is }ealled Globigerina Ooze—just as if it were a girl.’’—Cumberland Evening Mail. ‘so far their conversations have neyer| We ourselves should never think of giving a girl a name like that.

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re er ny ch 31- nt he n, ut to ve id ve un 1d th ad ilt ar is Ly vO Sentry. ‘‘ Harr! “ANOTHER GREAT SCANDAL. | DANGERS OF Moon: ActTION DEMANDED. The Globe has ever been in the fore- most rank of vigilant critics of affairs. The Globe’s motto, taken from the im- mortal works of CHARLES DickENs— | himself, in his attacks on the Cireum- locution Office and the methods of the NoveMBER 10, 1915.] PUNCH, OR WHO GOES THERE?”’ Sentry. ‘*Pass, FRIEND. ALL’S WELL,”’ Rustic. ‘‘Frrenp!"’ THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Rustic. ‘‘THANKEER, Srr. I’M SORRY TO ’AVE WOKE ’EE, Sr1R!”’ Hh | SE Court of Chancery, no mean forerunner | of “C, P.”—is, to quote Mr. Weller, “Ain't nobody going to be wopped for ' this here?” and 7'he Globe intends to | be true to it, come what may. In pursuance of our policy of watch- | fulness we are forced to-day to protest with all the eloquence and fervour left over from our great Reprisals Meeting at Croydon against the appalling and perilous folly on the part of Adimiralty—or is it the Home Office ? | but certainly one or other of these mutually elusive criminals—of allowing | the moon to be seen from the Eastern | Counties. Nothing could be more cal- citizen who, suddenly looking up, sees above his head what at the first blush is nothing but a highly illuminated air- ship, obviously filled with bombs. How can such a man go about his business with a rightly balanced mind? How can he carry out the delicate tasks demanded of him and of all of us if the War is to end in our favour? He is deranged, unbalanced, and everyone must suffer. We wish to bring no Government down, but we say with conviction that \if the moon is not eclipsed the Cabinet the | culated to upset our nerves than this | singularly obsolete although intrusive planet. Jor by some curious chance it rides over the City exactly like a Zeppelin. Think of the feelings of a|then Sir Jonn Stmon. will be, and justly too. For several days every month the moon is not visible. What the Globe demands to know, and insists upon learning, is this: | If the moon can be hidden for part of the time, why cannot it be hidden for all the time? The matter is of tremendous importance strategically, because so clever are our enemies that very shortly they will be sending to | England a Zeppelin so like the moon that we shall make no effort to stop it; and then where will London be? We call upon Mr. Batrour to act im- | mediately; or, if it is not Mr. BaLrour, | | The moon must be extinguished. Surely the task presents no real diffi- culties. Placed in the hands of Mr. GRAHAME WuirE, who spoke so nobly at Croydon, although nq one outside The Globe has been permitted to read his remarks, the thing could be done. The fleet of aircraft could be so dis- posed that they formed a sufficient screen between London and this dan- gerous luminary. We shall return to the subject again unless something is done. Never will we rest until the Admiralty—or the Home Office—has done its duty. C. P. P.S.—We are aware that the moon is alleged to keep Zeppelins away, but we have started this scandal and can allow no argument to stop us. An International Affair. ‘* British SUBMARINE’S CLEVER EXPLoir. TraniaAN Liner Sunk. GERMAN ApoLoGy TO SWITZERLAND.”’ Provincial Paper Headlines. The Simple Life. ‘* Wanted, Shepherd : must be used to feed ing on roots.’’—T'he Hereford Times.

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333 PUNCH, OR. ‘THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [NovemBerR 10, 1915, BLANCHE’S LETTERS. GEORGIAN AND OTHER REVIVALS. Beaunash Wells. | Sir William Kiddem, who comes to | /see after us regularly, says it’s a par- | ticularly happy idea to revive the past, | as it’s imperative that our thoughts | | stockings, anda play-sword by his side, I couldn’t help saying, ‘ Young fellow, my lad, are you doing anything for | your country 2” and, as he didn’t Dearest DAaPHNE,—There’s quite a | should be taken off the present during | answer, I said a word or two more. little vogue this autumn for our home- | made Spas and Wells, and this place in particular is full of people one knows. | But you mustn’t think we’re here merely for a holiday. No, my Daphne, we're all, in a sense, “broke in the War’’—that’s to say, we’re suffering | c from the effects of War-work of some our cure. He’s sent some immensely | |complicated cases here—dear Stella Clackmannan, for instance, who was suffering from neuro-committee -itis. came, and Sir William sent her here. She was chairwoman of dozens of com- | mittees ; and at last the breaking point | Sorry if it was undeserved, but he should have said so.” Eleanor looked puzzled. ‘“ None of them was dressed in the fashion you've described. Indeed, we’ve nothing of that exact period in the wardrobe.’ “ But, my dear lady, one of them She’s to amuse herself as much as! must have been dressed so, for I saw kind. Myself, I’m being treated for munition wrists. | shell-makers’ crouch to such an extent that Sir William Kiddem orders them to lie flat on their backs for ever so long each day. In the intervals of our treatment, however, we're giving back its youth to this dear old place. We crowd the Pump Room, we stroll up and down Quality Walk, and we shop in Farthingale Street. It was my idea to adopt the manners and so on of the poor dears who en- joyed themselves here ages ago, and I lead a set who ¢arry quizzing-glasses, and say, ‘ La, you now!” and “ My dear creature, Im infinitely obleeged to you,” and all those darling old fancy- dress phrases; and we have ridottos at the Rooms, and dance minuets (they begin as minuets, but they generally end as something livelier). Popsy, Lady Ramsgate, who’s being treated for Zeppelin eye (through looking up into the sky tco long with a telescope), tries, as usual, to outdo us all in digging up the past, and has herself carried to the Pump Room in a Sedan - chair. She had a little trouble with her chair- men one day when they set her down farther from the door than she wished. ‘Marry, come up, varlets,” she said (rather mixing up her centuries) ; ‘“‘Oddsboddikins, ‘tis a plaguy wet day.”’ And the men said they wouldn’t have such language used to them, that they were respectable working men, and they’d lay the matter before their ¢ trades union, been just coming out of the Pump Room. Ie settled it and pacified them. Yes, Norty came here during his short leave (you heard how he’s dis- tinguished himself as mander, dropping something on some- | thing somewhere and being decorated by our darling French allies). He threw himself heart and soul into cur eighteenth-century pose; set up a snuff-box and took delicate pinches out | of it, and said “ Foregad!” and “ Gad- zooks!” and “ You divert me vastly, child,” and was altogether deliciously Horace Walpoley, with a dash of Brau | hand wide- skirted coat, and shoes and | BruMMEL thrown in. Beryl and Babs have | and I don’t know what | would have happened if Norty hadn't | a flight-com- | possible, has electric head - massage | every day over the part of the brain that’s used for or ganising, is never to see anyone knitting or sewing, and the word “committee” is never to be said | in her hearing. The dear thing is| better now, but at first she was in a ghastly state. Every night she dreamed of knitted mufflers and mitts, and | once, she told us, she had a frightful nightmare, when the whole ‘world | seemed to he .made of purls! And) whenever and wherever she saw a/| number of people she tried to form them into a committee! We used to! persuade her to go home then and take a tabloid. My dearest, do you care to hear a storyette with just a little creep in it? EHeoute, done. I drove, out to Oldpark one afternoon, and among the callers was a certain Colonel who’s in com- mand of a certain camp not a thousand miles away. He’s a rather grim and very, very military Colonel, enormously keen on recruiting, and considered by many people (himself included, I be- lieve) to resemble a very Great Man indeed. Well, Eleanor Oldpark was chatting to some of us, and she happened to say that, while some people were staying there lately, they all amused themselves one evening by dressing up in some of the antique velvets and brocades out of the historic Oldpark wardrobe. was silently and busily drinking tea and | “ating sandwiches, suddenly “weighed | in with, “That must have been the evening I trespassed cn your grounds, | Lady Oldpark. I wanted to take a | short cut over to the depot, and I passed | across your lawn, below the terrace, and saw one of your masqueraders ; | to scoop him in—you know I never lose an opportunity of scooping ’em in. Did he mention it by any chance?” | No,” said Eleanor, and added, “There were no shirkers in the party, | Colonel.” “Glad to hear it,’ answered. ‘ But when I saw my fine young gentleman, with great long curls and a little fancy hat | atop of it, and a long flapped waistcoat | him,” persisted the Colonel; “he came down the steps of the terrace to get some cool air after dancing, I suppose —a tall, well set-up young fellow; I | Saw him quite plainly in the moonlight, |with his long curls, and his silks ‘and velvets and his shoe-buckles and all. When he didn’t answer my first ques- | tion, I told him this was no time | for dancing about dressed up in the | trumpery of the past ; that he ought to | be in the dress of to-day—khaki. But ‘he made as if he didn’t hear, and went _off across the lawn and vanished in the | shadow of the trees.” Eleanor Oldpark had turned quite pale; she looked at us all, and said, with a strange little laugh, “ My dear | Colonel, you are indeed zealous in scooping ‘em in! You've tried to re- cruit our Family Ghost.” A delicious creep went through every- one but the Colonel, and Eleanor con- tinued, “ I’ve never seen him, but others have. It’s Gervase, second Baron Oldpark, who lived in Anne's reign. He's seen ona certain autumn evening, the anniversary of the duel in which he fell. The story goes that, |instead of finding somebody’s wife or sister (whichever it may have been) at the trysting-place, he found somebody's husband or brother, and the fatal duel followed.” | The Colonel, who | on ‘ what’s more, I spoke to him and tried | (either he thought Eleanor out in her enlisting ? he | a wigful of| The atmosphere got so eerie that I | tried to lighten it ‘by saying, « How | consumedly interesting!” ‘as we should say at Beaunash Wells. “But, my ‘dear Colonel, I should have thouglit you were the last person to see a | ghost!” “ According to Lady Oldpark, I am the last person to see one,” retorted the Colonel, taking another sandwich facts, or is absolutely ghost-proof). | But why didn’t the fellow tell me what a good reason he had for not | Two hundred is a good bit | over the military age!” Ever thine, BLANCHE. ‘The modern Herod has seen the writing on the wall.’’—Morning Paper. Just as if he was the ancient BELsHAz- | ZAR,

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~ =a ba) = am ted | ich her of). | me not bit NoveMBER 10, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL aa “ee SSP AQsw “ Regimental Humourist (arriving with the relief just as mortar goes off). ‘‘ Buimey, Bini! § . S “ AN Ab \\ s Sd SSF: SS ANS —— SN . acct « ’ THESE TRENCHES AIN'T SAFE!’ HOLDING THE LINE. Tuts, let me say at once, and thus avoid all false pretences with those readers whose appetite for military matters is never satisfied, is not a military article. The line is not a line of entrenchments on any of the many fronts; and the article therefore con- tains neither instructions to officers how best to hold it (although no doubt, being only a layman, I could give them priceless counsel), nor a description of the way in which it is being held. I regret and I apologise; but there it is. The line, on the contrary, is the tele- phone line which several times a day some one tells me to hold; and if I were asked to specify the minutes of my life which [I most regret, which have been most irremediably misspent, I should name those occupied in this | Way. You know the formula. First you | get the number, and then the reply, | and then you ask for the person you | want and who, of course, has not come | to the instrument. “Ts that Mr. Blank?” you say. (This is not really his name.) “cc No.”’ “Is Mr. Blank there?” “T’ll see.” Then the deadly words: ‘ Hold the line.” Now the dreary interlude sets in. You sit still with the receiver at your ear, gazing at nothing, waiting and waiting. Sometimes you hear echoes, faint reflections, of other people’s talk. You hear muffled calls at the exchange. You change hands. You drum on the table with the disengaged fingers. You yawn. You click your tongue. Then the voice of the operator says sharply, ‘Haven't they answered?” and you explain your horrid situation. You want to read, but there is nothing within reach, and you daren’t let go of the receiver. You want to write, but with only one hand this is impossible | because the paper slips about. You wonder how a country can expect to win a war if it can’t even invent a simple ear clip for such occasions, liberating both hands. More muffled bells; more faint voices. Then the voice of the operator says, |‘ Have you finished?” and you sup- press the temptation to tell her more or | less what you think of her impatience, and indicate that, so far from finishing, |; you have not yet begun. | You attempt to visualise the idiotic person at the other end who is, or is not, trying to find Mr. Blank. Where ean Mr. Blank be? Upstairs, down- stairs? How can any living man be so long? Perhaps he has suddenly died. Perhaps the intermediary is dead. You get very cross and wish a terrible doom to fall on telephones and their inventors. You wonder what life would be like if the telephones were abolished—how soon one could readjust oneself to the old happy pre-telephone | ways. You change hands again. You |see things in the room that you have /hever seen before — patches on the ceiling, stains on the wall. That will mean a decorator’s bill. You grow despondent and realise that everything that made life possible is over and |done with. Nothing now but dreari ness and probably ill-health. You hate

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390 _ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVART. ‘‘T pon’? LIKE TO SEE A LADY DRESSED LIKE THAT, DO you, Mum? LE MOT JUSTE. [NovemBer 10, 1915. WZew S _Bartea. It MAKES HER LOOK SO SUSPICUOUS.”’ everybody, but most of all Mr. Blank | and his criminal clerk or servant or whoever it is that he has selected to answer calls and humiliate you. The operator again asks if you have done, and you daren’t trust yourself to say more than a passionate “No.” You change hands again. You begin to say, “Are you there?” but without hope. You would like to rattle the thing the receiver holds down, but you are afraid it would get you cut off. You be- come stupid and numb. And then suddenly you are snatched out of a state of stupor and helplessness by a voice at the other end which makes you jump infernally and informs you that Mr. Blank cannot be found. Such are some of the miseries of holding the line. In default of a simple contrivance, either for fixing the receiver to one’s ear or arranging the receiver on a rest at an angle so that one could lean one’s ear against it and have free hands, cannot something be done to relieve the tedium of this bitter process? Could not the Post Office provide broad- sheets, in the manner of The Times, but more sparkling, printed on cards on one side only, suitable for grasping | with one hand? Now that the mon- | strous sum of threepence is charged | for a call there should be a balance! for such things. Every telephone sub- | scriber to be provided with a packet | each week. They might be called| “Holding without Tears.” But, per- haps, to improve the instrument were | simpler. | If, when the time comes for me to} die, I am still not ready to relinquish | this odd fever called life, and a gcood| fairy appears at the bedside and offers a boon, I shall ask for the restitution of all the time I have spent “ holding the line.” live for ever. Then I shall practically | The Nessus Brand. In the Board of Trade Journal, under “Openings for British Trade,” | we read :— ‘‘Machinery for making adhesive paper | shirts . . . (Greece).’’ Our Experts. ‘‘Instead of withdrawing troops from the Turkish zone of operations, we must increase them ; we must cease making war in driblets; | instead of regiments, we must pour in bat- | talions.”’—Mr. A. G. Hales. | | | THE SEVEN SPELLS. A RoMANCE OF THE NEAR East. It sounds iike a fairy story, but it is only the way The Manchester Evening News spells the name of a certain Ser- bian town; and all in one edition too: “ Kraguyevatz. Kraguyvatz. Kraguievatz. Kragievatz. Kraguyevac. Kragujevacs. Krabujevacs.”’ From a report of Mr, AsqviTH’s speech in an evening paper :— ‘* How has this gigantic force been got to- gether by a nation which has never aspired to be a military Poker? ”’ The Germans believe it is by sheer bluff. ‘‘In the House of Commons, Mr. Asquith made his promised statement on the military situation. The chief points in the speech will be foundon p. ,andthetextonp. .” Scotsman. The Prime Mrsister will have a word with the Censor about this. — ~ ~ - | ‘*5s, Reward paid anyone finding large black and white cat, busy tail.’”’ Leicester Daily Mercury. The description hardly seems suffici- | ently distinctive; all cats have tails like that. |

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5. | | PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Novemper 10, 1915. | = | . 7 : = ee | | | | | | | | | Y, yi, | | ab tis Pe | TASK PERI OSA) a Poe SON te | | UG My, 97 » War . | | ' ie NA | i aN N INS HSS AN SWS } | b is | ni H'S to- | red | iff. | ith wry vill - ree ’ | 1 1 T 1 ss i ci | | THE SELF-INVITED GUEST. ils | | Sutran (with resignation). “ALLAH’S HAND IS INDEED HEAVY ON HIS CHOSEN.” ] =

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November 10, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI 393 ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. (EXTRACTED FROM THE Driary OF Topsy, M.P.) House of Commons, Tuesday, Novem- ter 2nd.—In anticipation of speech of is only on historic occasions. Seats being appropriated by early comers, Members overflowed the side galleries ; clustered at the Bar, remaining stand- ing through full length of PremiEer’s longest recorded speech; a few old stagers accommodating themselves on steps of SpEAKER’s Chair. Notable among Peers in their gallery was JACK FisHer. Had satisfaction Head of Government. Rumour, current |at the time, that First Sea Lord had “doubts and hesitations ” about sending operation of Army was confirmed. Also it is to the inventive genius of Lord FISHER, operative in anti- cipation of events in the Mediterranean, that ‘“ the Admiralty built specially constructed vessels that have done magnificent work.” PREMIER usually man- ages to compress within space of forty minutes his most momentous speeches. This afternoon spoke for two hours less ten minutes. One of opening sentences struck predominant note. ‘Tf, he said, any thought it was his duty to appear in guise either of a criminal in the dock making best How THE | even of white-sheeted penitent with candle in either hand doing penance be disappointed. Who such expectants were he made clear in what he called a passing notice |of “a small coterie of professional | whimperers who keep us supplied and | keep our enemies supplied with a daily diet of falsehood.” This the sole reference made under provocation — not unparalleled, since Pirt in analogous circumstances more assault, but discouraging for an over- worked statesman. of which he vindicated Winston from personally responsible for plan of cam- paign, he frankly acknowledged that disappointment had attended diplo- Prime Minister House thronged as it! . . . . ! of hearing two tributes paid to him by Fleet to force Dardanelles without co- | BY APPEARING and asking for absolution, they would than a century ago suffered similar For the rest, after plain statement of | situation in the Dardanelles, in course charge confidently made that he was matic action of the Allies in relation to the Balkans; undertook, amidst out-|‘*Some” Staff statistician, indeed. | bursts of cheers, that Serbia will not be | abandoned ; protested that he had no} THE TRUTH ABOUT THE BOOTS. insurmountable objection tocompulsory service in time of war, if voluntaryism | proved a failure; announced devolution to small Committes of direction of strategical conduct of the War; and declared more confidently than ever that | ¢ | . . greatest moment has arisen with regard a righteous cause would be carried to a triumphant issue. For himself, he was not going to shift the burden laid upon him until he was satisfied that he could not bear it or that it could be better borne by others. Greeted with friendly cheers when he entered House after nearly a fortnight’s absence from illness, and again when he rose to speak. Applause loudest when he concluded a luminous and spirited story. Business done. — PRIME MINISTER S7,f/ fi / \ Zt } ° Wy y UY MISSED OPPORTUNITIES. MINISTER AS CRIMINAL i} TY PRIME MIGHT HAVE BRIGHTENED OR PENITENT. situation. Interesting, animated, debate followed. Prodigious. Pax F.E.,’ as he latest exalted position at the early age of 4. | There have been few more striking instances |of rapid promotion.’’—Daily Dispatch. | Few, or even none. | ‘TRAVELLER wanted to push dressmakers in town; liberal encouragement.”’ Glasgow Herald, | Ought the Glasgow police to allow this | sort of thing ? | - ————aa——————— ‘‘ Herr Karl Rosner, special correspondent of the Lokal-Anzeiger with the western armies. | gives some interesting figures as to the colossal expenditure of French and British shells, | Some Staff statistician has enabled the corre- spondent to state that on a front breadth of twenty-five yards one shell per minute, or | 3,680 per hour, was the average.”’ Morning Paper. | | “ull Dear Mr. Puncn,—What the nation | needs above all else at this juncture is unity and a clear lead. It is ready to | be led but it can no longer brook shilly- shally and divided councils and con- fusion in high places. A point of the to the Duke of WELLINGTON’s boots, in which connection I for one find myself completely bewildered. In a recent number of The Spectator a quaint and instructive little story was related. The Duke of WELLINGTON, we were told, was on board a passenger ship in a storm. He asked the Captain if there was any danger, and, on being informed that there was, he replied, “Then I | will go downstairs and put on my boots.” (The Duke was a soldier rather than a sailor, or he would never have said * downstairs.”’) The Spectator, improving the occasion with its usual pointed skill, went on to say with splendid emph- asis, ‘“ Let the nation go downstairs and put on its | boots!” Now that, Sir, was all right; we knew where we were. But un- fortunately in the next number of the paper ap- peared a letter from a correspondent who gave another version of the story. The Captain of the ship, it seems, informed the Duke that she was likely to founder, And what did the Man of Iron PARLIAMENT possible defence of doubtful past, or|made long-expected speech on War reply ?—* Then I need not take off my occasionally boots.” But my own recollection is—though it is a long time since I heard the story —that what the Duke actually said, on hearing that the ship was sinking, is still called, reaches his) was this: ‘In that case I must take off my boots” (the better to swim). Now, Sir, there can be no doubt that the Nation is quite ready to follow the lead of so happy a combination as the Editor of The Spectator and the Duke of WetLINGTon. But we must know | . | where we stand with regard to these boots. Are we to put them on, or to take them off? To go downstairs for |them, or to go to bed in them ? May I implore you to elicit for us without delay an authoritative pro- nouncement? Iam, Yours faithfully, A Witurne Patriot. ‘Old Week-end Cottage.—Kent (about one- and-a-half hours by rail, two-and-a-quarter miles by road).’’—Country Life. Good old South-Eastern!

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAI tLIVART. {NovemBer 10, 1915, | | sntvierihiteiatiggan ane cea Re “TT § Pa > se Visitor. ‘‘ How TERRIBLE THIS WAR Is, Mrs. WILKs!”’ Mrs. Wilks. ‘‘Husn, Miss! My OLD MAN WON’T HAVE IT THAT THERE IS ONE.”’ Within his Alma Mater’s gates He neither stirred our praise or pity; | He took a Third in Mods and Greats Then gravitated to the City. WAR’S SURPRISES. My friend Adolphus when at school, Though always a persistent trier, — | And not exactly held a fool, ar | He passed completely from my ken— Was never reckoned as a “flier. | Excepting at an Old Boys’ muster In ante-bellum days—and then Perhaps his undistinguished features, | Emerged in unfamiliar lustre. | That marked him out for satire’s aim, | His trench had been severely shelled, Perhaps it was his ducal name, For schoolboys are exacting Two shots bang in the midst had creatures. landed, | But when the wave of onset swelled He bombed ten Bosches single- handed. He wasn’t bad behind the stumps, And would have played in the eleven, | But an untimely bout of mumps | Debarred him from that schoolbo - ‘ ee ee ect J “—— his D.S.O. all right Some thought he’d earned a higher guerdon— But still it broke the spell and quite Relieved him of a lifelong burden. | He never shone at other sports ; He wasn’t brilliant or uproarious ; And nearly always his reports > j , 6“ 3 c Summed up his work as “meri | No longer could his fellows rate | ” torious. | His worth at little more than zero, And so, whatever he essayed, — ; | One golden hour “ beyond his fate” In spite of conscientious striving | Had raised him to a full-blown hero. He never thoroughly allayed , ; ; An unguessed passion for “ arriving.” | Therefore believe him not who says | The past must be the present’s Too negligible to be feared, measure ; Too inconspicuous to be courted, |The War-test works in wondrous ways His blameless way he safely steered And brings to‘light undreamt-of Until to Oxford he resorted. treasure. School verdicts often turn out wrong, And boys we thought were “ small potatoes ” We now admit were all along Potential paladins or Catos. Notice. In a recent article in Punch, entitled “Tomlinson’s Progress,” there was in- troduced a character of the name of Miss Withers, and there was mention of a house called Rosedene. It appears | that an actual Miss Withers, in whose neighbourhood there is a house called Rosedene, is under the impression that she was referred to in the article. In point of fact the character was purely imaginary, and the author is neither acquainted with this Miss Withers nor w.th the neighbourhood in which she resides. Mr. Punch absolutely repudi- ates all responsibility for what was a /mere coincidence arising out of the use ‘of familiar names. At the same time he regrets any annoyance that may have been suffered by the lady. Cothmercial Candour. Heading to an Indian catalogue :— ‘* HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY. ' ALL PREVIOUS LISTS ARE HEREBY CANCELLED.” |

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| wt . se ed Lady (to policeman on duty). ‘‘OH, HAVE YOU SEEN THE ZEPPELIN? Policeman (in best official manner). ‘‘ Ue THE STREET OPPOSITE, MADAM, AND FIRST TURNING ON THE LEFT.’ WHICH TIAA | LZ Y WAY DID IT GO?”’ | A GIFT SHELL. | I prpn’r like the look of the thing’ | from the first. When Celia had removed | the two sandbags and the dirty straw in which it had been packed, and it lay ' revealed in all its frightfulness in the | biscuit tin, I said, “I wish he hadn’t | sent it.” Celia seemed to think me rather | ungrateful. | “He must have gone to awful trouble | to get it past the Censor,” she remarked, shaking the box gently. “ Yes, I noticed the outside wrapper had ‘soiled linen’ on it Don’t do that! If you value our lives, the house and all this side of the street for about a ‘hundred yards either way, don’t bang it about.” “Tt must have been banged about in the post,” she said very reasonably, | “and I want to see if there’s a note in with it.” “ Suppose,” I said, “all the rough handling it has been subjected to has raised it to—er, boiling point. The works inside, you know—very sensitive, I expect.” Celia took a step back and sent Barbara to play in the garden. “I’m sure there’s a letter under- neath it,”’ she said. “Very well, then,” I replied, and I) carried the box and its sinister contents | up into the spare bedroom. We turned it out very carefully on to the feather bed. Nothing alarming happened, except that Celia dropped the empty tin and frightened me rather unnecessarily. Then we looked for the note and found nothing. It was just after Celia had raised the | pointed end that I heard the noise. | “ Listen,’ I shouted, pulling her) away. There was an unmistakable clicking noise. The next moment, while I was rapidly considering what to do, Celia | dashed at the window, and for some unaccountable reason flung it open, and dragged me from the room by my | coat pocket. | When we had everybody safely in the cellar I gave the gardener instruc- | tions through the grating. “The tulip bed must be sacrificed,” I said firmly, “and as much of the lawn as you think necessary. It must be at least eight feet deep.” In half-an-hour I went out and warned Brown next door. He seemed rather anxious about his new summer- house.and asked if it would be possible to turn the business end the other way. The mattress was rather awkward at I explained there and then that it was all business end, but sacrificed another | ‘eighteen inches of the lawn in his interests. After lunch we brought it down. the turn on the second landing, but we managed all right until we reached the bottom of the back staircase. Then the gardener slipped, fell two steps, let drop his corner, and the shell rolled off. Cook, who I always said would dis- tinguish herself some day, caught it. We got it back on the mattress again just before she fainted. The evening post arrived as we were all stamping down the tulip bed. Celia read the letter, standing (the irony of it) where the lawn had been. “T bought the shell,” she read, “ off a French soldier. When you turn the fuse cap (the brass knob on the point) the clock face appears in the opening at the side. I expect you ’ve discovered the way it works by now. Awfully ingenious, these French fellows——” “One can never be too careful,’ I said. Celia smiled. I suppose there must have been something funny in Harry's letter. He rather prides himself on his humour.

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396 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. {[NovemBer 10, 1915, THE WATCH DOGS. XXVIII. My pear Cuartes,—I hope this finds you, as it leaves me, in the pink at present. My letter is to be about Headquarters. Later I’ll tell you what I see and hear when I circulate. Any man can picture officers sharp- ening their swords on the soles of their boots, leaping lightly over parapets and dashing into frays; and, if he can’t, there are artists enough to do it for him. But no illustrated Sixpenny Press has ever done justice to the stirring picture, in all its gruesome detail, of A Staff at Work, Lam not staff, mark you; Iam but a very poor relation of the great Brass-hat family. For the moment, however, I live among them and share their hard lot, and, what’s more, I am prepared to stand or fall with them. Yes, Charles, there are those who will tell you that Headquarters in general exist merely for the purpose of prolong- ing the War. I felt that way myself in my troglodytic past; but not now. To the ladies-the staff-officer is a tall good-looking man who bestrides a horse with a long tail and is never far away from his Field-Marshal; to the reader of feuilletons he is a man of steel nerves and cast-iron expression who pores over maps, as often as not in an ill-lit tent, and deals hourly with questions of life and death in large round numbers; to the junior regi- mental officer he is an unknown quantity in a motor-car, always to be saluted, whatever his rank, on the you- never- know- and- its- best- to-be-on-the- safe-side principle; to the senior regi- mental officer he is an enviable nuisance. This is all very well, but what are the facts? What is an M.G.G.S.? What is a B.G.R.A.? How does a D.D.V.S. get to work? What are the habits and peculiar characteristics of an A.M.S.? Distinguish carefully, extra marks being given for neatness, between a D.A.Q.M.G. and a D.A. and Q.M.G. Which would you sooner be, and why —a D.D.S. and T., a D.A.D.T., or a D.A.D.R.T.? What relation, by blood or marriage, isa D.A.D.S. toa D.A.D.O.S.? If an A.D.A.P.S. meets a D.A.D.M.S. which calls the other ‘Sir’? An army being greater than a corps, and a major being senior to a captain, the candidate for honours is asked to suppose a difference of opinion between an Army Staff Captain and a Corps Staff Major and to spot the winner. Lastly, if a Lieutenant-Colonel is removed from his office of P.M. and returned to his regi- ment (to command it), do you congratu- late him warmly as upon an achievement or do you hush the matter up as being a first step on the downward path ? early for the pheasants. Most men would answer these riddles, if not in the words, at least after the manner of the sentry whom you ask to direct you to the G.S. Office (the gate of which he guards, if he did but know it). “I don’t rightly know, Sir. I’ve! only been in these parts a few weeks.” My servant, having wanted a new tunic a very long time but having failed for all his efforts to come by one, was at last told by an old soldier, “‘ There’s a knack about indenting, my lad, and if you haven’t got that you’re never likely to get anything else.” So I believe, it requires a very high order of brain and years of patient industry at the Staff College to learn the system, let alone how to work it. In fact, when you’ve proved yourself brilliant enough to know exactly what a Staff Officer is, you become, ipso facto, a Staff Officer yourself. You wender how I, whom you know much tco well to suspect of any intellect, can keep my end up in such an atmo- sphere of knowledge? It came about like this. On September 25th last an affair began which you may recall ; it was Officially known as “Giving the Ger-dog the cold stomach.” It was an affair of some dimensions, but it was no mere coincidence that it happened all along the line at the same moment. It wasn’t that all the Generals, French and English, chanced to lose their temper with the enemy simultaneously. No, Charles, strictly between ourselves, it had all been arranged beforehand. But it was a dark, a very dark secret ; only those who had to know knew, and there was more woe waiting for anyone of them who let it out than there was even for the Bosches. And the secret was kept, and but for accident and considerable tact I might to this day be reckoned as one who knows nothing, never knew anything, is never likely to know anything. It fell out about that time that I was getting due for leave; that is to say, at | the end of August my Colonel asked me to name the happy day. He thought I'd be off at once ; but for some | private reason which I myself have never been quite able to fathom, I must needs select September 25th of all dates. What’s more, I stuck to it for all his efforts to put me off. He said I’d be late for the partridges ; he said I’d be I replied that I was going to spend my time in London, and there was no close season | for Zeppelins as faras I knew. “ Very | well, then,” he said hurriedly, “ Sept- | ember the 5th be it.” “The twenty-fifth, Sir,” said I. “Right,” he said, even | more hurriedly; “I’ll put you down for the 25th of October.” “ September, Sir,” I said. Even in the G.S. office of an Army at midnight a crowd will gather round ; and about my Colonel, in his sore dilemma, assembled a little group of interested listeners. They became aware of my existence, even of my leave. When did I propose to take it.? “T had thought of September 25th,” I explained; “but there seems to be | something . . .” My Colonel blushed deeply, firmly closed the conversation, and there ensued the stoniest silence | I ever remember to have been mixed | up in. My duty takes me with messages to most of the people who matter, and it is their habit in the kindness of their hearts to interest themselves, at the | conclusion of the interview, in my private affairs. To all of them I men- tioned my leave and September 25th. I confess that after the first time or two | I did this on purpose. It was appar- | ently an excellent jest. It induced them to smile mysteriously at me. When people do that, I always, on principle, smile mysteriously myself. At the mention of that date they would Icok anxiously at the door, to | see if it was shut, and then would ask | me in an offhand manner questions which only the inmost inner circle could be expected to answer. In matters of opinion (‘“ How long will the War really last ?”’) I would say my say: in | matters of fact I would say briefly I didn’t know. In both cases I got infinite | credit for extraordinary knowledge, but more especially in the latter. And so my reputation was created in the highest quarters; it very soon | spread down. When September 25th | arrived and the supposed inwardness of | all my mysterious smiling with regard to it became apparent to all, I was a made man. Nowadays, when other people are asked to say what they think, I am asked to say what I know. At | present I am unpopular, but pleasantly unpopular, for my meanness, exceeding that of the Bulgarians even, in not warning people what was about to take place in the Kast. Very well, Charles, disbelieve me if you will. But, say, how do you ac- count for my present official address, which is (omitting, so to speak, the number of the Street) Intelligence, | , B.E.F. Yours ever, nevertheless, Henry. | From a notice of Mrs. As@uitu’s re- miniscences of GLADSTONE :— | ‘‘ Immediately after Miss Tennant’s depar- ture he, as was Mr. Wemmick’s custom on an | occasional afternoon, dropped into poctry.”’ | Sunday Paper. | Shade of Silas Wegg (bitterly), “ And this is fame!” | '

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rmy ind; sore > of ame my | » it.? ait be shed ‘ion, | ance | ixed | | ions rele ters Var :in | y I nite but ited oon Sth s of rard iS a cher ink, At ntly ling not ake e if ac- ess, the nce, NoveMBeER 10, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Newly-ar Captain. RUM. | THERE is a nectar, not distilled i] \ MLA IN H W I Ri ‘ j | MN it uf 4 } i )} ¥ (ez . ve Ze. ey as \\ AY rived Subaltern. ‘‘Is THAT OUR WooD?’”’ ‘* WELL, NO. Wig YZ / BNA if 3UT WE HAVE THE SHOOTING OVER IT.”’ It cheers me when the night is chill, Or things particularly grave, When only one lone sentry still | Where England’s gods and princes; Is wakeful and prepared to kill come, Rather by men of meaner build In needy streets is sometimes swilled At no excessive sum ; But here I deem it no disgrace, When Sol sits down in Samothrace And Father Achi hides his face, To fill my flask with rum. In this hush’d hour the peasant Turk, The other side of yonder steep, Walks home, I ween, from vineyard work Through rock-strewn scrub where lizards lurk And snakes are going cheap, To where in some deep-delvéd cell | His best Falernian goat-skins dwell, | And does himself extremely well And settles down to sleep. | But it is now, when peasants play, That soldiers’ toils in truth begin; We may do nothing all the day But feebly wave the flies away And let the best fly win ; But with the dark arrive our rigours, The bags, the bombs, the ceaseless diggers, While foemen madly work their trig- ers— And that’s where rum comes in. If Moslems misbehave; , | Or, while I crawl where no trench is | And spiteful missiles round me whizz From someone in those cypresses, It makes me almost brave. And when I wake from some brief doze To hear the great Red-Hats have writ That they have reason to suppose This is the night our frantic foes Intend to do their bit ; And we sad souls till dawn must act Like men about to be attacked, | And not'a thing occurs, in fact— I shall be glad of it. At other times my tot I raise And take it gingerly, like snuff, Not with the wild convivial ways, The deep long draughts of Oxford days; It is not good enough ; | For, though in kindly terms I touch On this rich stimulant, as such, | F cannot say I like it much, Indeed I hate the stuff. | | } | « Paper handkerchiefs are to be provided for | | the infants at Church Street School.’’ Woking News & Mail. | Tishoo-paper, of course. MANNER. THE LION. IN THE SUNDAY XIII.—Bompy anp Bomsy walked along with his bow and arrow as proud as a terrier with two tails. Can’t you see him, children, ‘in the mind’s eye? And then—what |do you think?—suddenly appeared a | monstrous lion. Was Bomby frightened? Not a bit. He merely slipped behind a bush and waited. “What is it?” asked the Fluffy Child. “Tt’s a lion,” said Bomby. “ What you going to do?” asked the Fluffy Child. “ Shoot it,” said Bomby. ' How splendid you are!’’ said the Fluffy Child. “ Aren't I?” said Bomby. The lion came on and then suddenly it began to purr. | “It’s purring, not angry at all.” ’ ‘said Bomby. “It’s So they got on its back and rode home. | Wasn't that delightful, dearchildren ? | Wasn’t Bomby splendidly brave ? Isn’t this a terrific story ? [Next week another equally exciting and thrilling adventure of Bomby and the Fluffy Child.]

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398

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON | CHARIVART. {[NovemBer 10, 1915.

THE FOUR-POSTER. “ THERE he is,” said Francesca, ‘I can hear his step on the gravel.” “T’m glad he’s come at last, has been very trying.” “He’s wearing a top-hat,’ said Francesca, peeping through the window, “and a very nice- -looking overcoat. Run and open the front-door for him.” “No,” I said, “let the front-door be opened in the usual way.” “‘ No,” she said, “ you do it. if we’re polite to him.” “Tf he thinks we’re grovelling to him he won’t give us anything at all.” “ Pooh,” said Francesca. pounds for it.” “T bet on a hundred-and- fifty, ” I said. remember it’s of the best period.” I ought, perhaps, to explain that this conversation re- ferred to the old four-poster bed, the gift of Francesca’s grandmother, which for nearly twenty years had occupied the greater part of the floor-space and wall-space in one of the spare bedrooms. It was as lofty as it was otherwise immense and _ gloomy.” ”T said. ‘This suspense He'll give us a better price “T bet we shall get a hundred “You must “Indeed?” I said coldly, that was possible.” “Dear me, yes,” said Mr. Jacobson. “I know of a bed in Hampshire that you could pack this one up in and forget all about it.” “Still,” I said, “size isn’t everything in four-posters. This one is of the best period.” “Yes-um-yes,” said Mr. Jacobson, “that’s just what | | I’m wondering about. There’s some good work in that | left-hand post ‘at the foot—late eighteenth-century, I should | say, half-way up—but the rest of it’s heen put in bit by bit. I can see where it’s been joined up. Now this part at the | | head ‘i “Ah,” I said, pride of the bed.” “Tt may be,” said Mr. Jacobson dubiously ; “but for my | own part I should say it’s a recent imitation of a post of about 1740. He went up to it, tapped it with his knuckles, scraped it with his thumb-nail and inspected it with a little magnifying-glass which he took from his pocket. “T thought so,” he said. ‘“ Nota day earlier than 1860.” « But,” I said, “ they did good work in 1860.” “Oh yes, I daresay they did,” said Mr. Jacobson, “ but “T shouldn’t have thought

“I’ve always understood that to be the | |

it’s not the kind of work that adds to the value of

~, an article. You see, Sir,

Any guest who Serer | it seemed to dwindle away | to a speck on its vat acreage. It is related that | a young nephew, spend- | ing part of his last holi- | days with us, overslept | himself one fine morning, | ; and that the bed was/ |‘ iy /\\\\ JR duly made over his body | without his presence being noticed or suspected. In consequence of Mr. McKenwna’s budget it had !_— now been decided that the bed was to be sold, ‘and Messrs. Spindlewood and Sons, the celebrated fur niture people, had sent their Mr. Jacobson down to inspect and appraise it. I welcomed Mr. Jacobson in the hall and immediately felt that paralysis of all the mental faculties which is apt to overcome me in the presence of an expert. “We will now,” I said, “ go up-stairs and I will show you the corpus delicti.” “| beg your pardon,” said Mr. was to see a four-poster bedstead.” “So you are, Mr. Jacobson,” I said, “ But the corpus?” said Mr. Jacobson. mentioned a corpus of some kind ?” “ Quite right, Mr. Jacobson,” I said. “ It’s been in the family a long time, and that’s our pet name for it.’ We had now reached the bedroom passage and in a moment I had thrown open the door of the spare room and had introduced Mr. Jacobson to his victim. “There it is,” I said, “as large as life and twice as natural, ha, ha!” “Oh, I don’t know,” said Mr. say it was quite as large as all that. a good’bit larger. Oldbury’ s house in Staffordshire—you may possibly have been there?” uN a\y \\\ \ . \\ S =< Kath) AW iN WW WN AN ‘THEIR MasTER’s VOICE’’ RECORD OF THE KAISER’S FAMOUS gee TION OF THE AMERICAN POEM (AS APPLIED TO THE Crown PRINCE): WISH 1’D RAISED MY BOY TO BE A SOLDIER.’ “T thought I Jacobson, “so you are.” “T think you Jacobson. They sometimes run “No,” I said, “not exactly, but I’ve often heard about it.” “Ah,” said Mr. Jacobson. ‘Then I daresay you heard his bed mentioned. I don’t think I’m wrong in saying that bed would give yours eighteen inches in length and a) foot in breadth.”

\ WS this bedstead of yours is made up of several dif- \ferent periods. It hasn't, » | so to say, got a proper period of its own. If I i | was to describe it to you, Wz or to anyone else, for the i | matter of that, as kelong- ing, say, to the eighteenth | /century I should be—er— = | misrepresenting the facts. It looks handsome in a iway, but it’s really too —_!much of a botch-up to

command much of a price.” “ But,” I said desperately, “I thought four-posters were always sure of a ready sale at a big price.” «“ Ah, Sir, there was a time when connoisseurs were after them very hot, and many inferior articles were put upon the market to meet the demand ; but that time’s over long ago. Nobody wants to sleep in them and very few people want to buy them now.” “That,” I said, “is very depressing, What do you advise me to do about it ?” “ Well, Sir,” said Mr. Jacobson,” you could break it up, you know, and either keep the posts as ornament stands or give them away for wedding presents. Or we could take it | in part payment for two of our best walnut-wood bedsteads. Or, if you like, we can put it into one of our sales and make a try to push it up to five pounds.” | Shortly afterwards I said good-bye to Mr. Jacobson and reported the result of his inspection to Francesca. “What,” she said indignantly, “break up Grand- Mr. Jacobson.

“T shouldn’t | or put it in a sale ? We got a bed two years ago from Lord | best period.” }mamma’s four-poster, or exchange it for two modern beds, | Never! We'll keep it.” | “ Yes,” I said, “and I'll go on telling people it ’s of the | | “JT shan’t do that,” said Francesca. “I shall say that | some good judges have attributed it to GRINLING GrBpons.” | R. C. L. |

A Handful. ‘*WantEp.—Good Plain Cook, House-F | House-Maid to look after one little girl of five.’

Parlourmaid, and Nurse- *—Hants Chronicle.

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at | lat ald it. he | he | ny BS, tle ut of ir, if- e ttt +tt+ =" =I a \ Oat ae ee ne Stes HUMOURS OF A REMOUNT DEPOT. LONG-DISTANCE GROOMING, LONDON CHARIVARI. 399 | | | \ re ef - ¥ ee te owe - OUR BOOKING-OFFICE, (By Mr. Punch’s Staff of Learned Clerks.) In Eltham House (Cassevi) Mrs. Humpnry Warp returns to her pleasant field of high politics in an expensive setting. Alec Wing, heir of a fabulously wealthy and detached Whig peer, runs away with Caroline, the beautiful wife of an cdious wooden baronet. He marries her in due course, and after a decorous interval she comes back to be mistress of | the great Whig palace which old Lord Wing has generously | put at the disposal of the brilliant young couple. Outraged society and the Nonconformist conscience determine that Wing shall not get into the Government and that no other women than an eccentric duchess, the ladies of the Embassies, and exotic dancers shall appear at Eltham House. Wing succeeds to the title and so cannot be kept out of politics, but fails in his attempt to bribe and intrigue | himself into place. In his failure he deserts his adorable Caroline, who, after trying to rival the Salon of the Lady Houtuanp of the beginning of the last century, dies of something like a broken heart. Caroline is a charming | pathetic figure, dexterously suggested. Wing is a bump- tious ass, with little trace of the high talents claimed | for him. It is a curious trick of fate which has set Mrs. | Humpury Warp to boomerang-making. Not once, but | thrice in these last four years she has written books | which seem to bring damage by inference to the causes | and conditions she has at heart. I take it she approves and thinks impressive the atmosphere of Eltham House, gilt and marbled and pillared, lined with the family por- traits of three centuries and stuffed with rare treasures of art; with its glitter and bustle; its starred and be- ribboned statesmen and ambassadors; its political chatter | and anxious wire-pulling, even though she deplores the | vagaries of its headstrong young master, Lord Wing. But in fact she contrives to make it all a little empty, unmean- ing and unseemly—a good deal too much cry for so little | wool. And I conceive that, run as a serial by one of our | wrecking journals, the whole novel might have a quite | considerable success, in addition to that more flattering welcome which the loyalty and gratitude of readers and the author’s competent handling of her well-dressed marionettes assures her. One shining merit is that she is | herself alertly interested—always an infectious quality. There is little point in attempting comparisons between the various war-books that have appeared during the past year. Each has its individual excellence. If I were asked to name the chief characteristic of War Pictures behind the Lines (SmitH, Exper) I think I should say cheerful com- | | mon sense. Mr. JAN Matcoum, M.P., writes of the War on | the Western Front as it appeared to him during his very | energetic employment with the British Red Cross Society. | That he happened also to be a trained observer and the owner of a literary style were, so to speak, fortunate accidents. The book is, as its dedication to the writer's constituents says, primarily a record of work done. The things seen come by the way. Part, a noble and terrible | part, of this work was concerned with the identification of | the graves of those who had fallen in action. This task at |

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[Novemper 10, 1915, PUNCH, OR THE LONDON 400 CHARIVARI. times led the party into dangerous places. Their reward Mr. Lasceixes’ Thirty-five Years in the New Forest (ARNOLD), was the comfort they were able to bring back to many that his life had its compensations too. For, after spending mourners at home, especially in their testimony to the love an hour or so in refusing to build a new bedroom or put in and reverence with which these graves are tended by (a lighting plant (or even in complying with such monstrous French peasants and privates. There are many moving | demands), he could mount his pony and shoot deer, or call instances of this. But the book is not wholly grave. | out his spaniels and shoot pheasants, or even loiter among Mr. Maucotm has to the full the brave optimism of the | ithe flowers of his pleasant and historic official residence, busy worker, the very quality that he notices approvingly | King’s House, Lyndhurst. One thing is certain from popular | testimony, and that is that the New Forest was never in | in others. The illustrations are a very attractive feature of | | the volume; they range from reproductions of German | more capable or more sympathetic hands than in his long bread-tickets to pictures and drawings by French artists! regency; and this book proves that the Forest never had a bearing upon the War. Of these latter, one especially, a| better lover. As an author Mr, LasceLuxs is easy-going crayon drawing by Ocus of two amateur critics, entitled, | ‘and communicative, and his volume, as the record of the life “Si j'étais a la place de Joffre,” is a masterpiece of good- | humoured satire. An Irish story from Mrs. Francis Buunpewi (M. E. Francis) possesses the added charm of novelty. But Dark Rosaleen (CassELL) shows her as much at home in Conne- | mara as in Wessex or Lancashire. There is indeed an | | door literature. of an English country gentleman of sound sporting tastes, jand a right dislike of egg-collectors and the destroyers of |rare birds, takes its place among the more excellent out- In Penelope's seems to me that Mrs. Kate DovuGias WiGGIN has striven unusual beauty in the set- | | ting of this tale; and that feeling which she always | | shows for the place-spirit, | | | by which the surroundings of her characters become an actual influence in their development, has never served her to better purpose. The mist-laden hills, the wet winds and surging seas of Western Ireland have all been} brought into her pages, so that the haunting, ex- asperating appeal of them is like that of the country itself. This being said, I, have to confess that the actual story seemed to me unequal; there are scenes in it that could hardly be | “Mr. Binks, FORWARD! ”’ Proprietor of Dullboro’ Emporium (with admirable presence of mind). ~\at all costs to be “bright” in the peculiar sense that Americans give to that word. Penelope herself almost admits this when she writes in the last chapter, “And where is Herself, the vanished Penelope, you ask . 7 and loquacious, she happier and wiser ;” and I could wish that I had ‘tion instead of before it. is that in these Postscripts Mrs. | humour has been | ployed upon material that has been already roasted, bettered, others that leave one unsatisfied. Perhaps this is because its motive is re- ligious; and religion, which cannot always make a good man, generally makes a bad novel. Dark Rosaleen is the tale of a mixed marriage, between Ultra-Protestant Hector McTavish, and Catholie Norah Burke. Hector and Pat Burke, peasant lads both, had been brought up almost as brothers, till the former is taken away to the North by his Protestant father, and the latter becomes a priest. Exquisitely sympathetic and tender is Mrs. BuunpDExt’s telling of the scene in which Patsy's mother and dying father kneel to receive the first blessing of their son. These chapters, indeed all the Con- naught part of the book, are a delight to read; but later, when Hector has married Norah and taken her with him to Ulster, though the contrast is well suggested, I could not but feel that the story had suffered from the change of air. The end, which I do not mean to tell, is unexpectedly grim, but the horror of it is redeemed by a fine touch of imagination. Mr. Grraup Lasce.es, formerly Deputy-Surveyor of the New Forest (under the Crown), may have had his worries as every deputy-surveyor (under the Crown) must have, for tenants are always tenants and related in one particular (so other landlords tell me) to the daughters of the horse- leech, to Oliver Twist, and to the patrons of the present Ambassadors’ revue. But there is plenty of evidence, in Postscripts (HODDER AND STOUGHTON) it | Well, if she is a thought less irresponsible, merry | is | met her after her reforma- | | For the fact of the matter | WiaaIn’s sense of | em- | ______! hashed, minced and turned | into potato-pie until one is weary of the very sight of it. | Neither Mrs. WiaGIn nor anyone else can squeeze fresh fun out of the idiosyneracies difficulties that the Briton has in coping with the speech of Latin countries. I wish with all my heart she had not made the attempt, because in these days to abandon faith of the Welsh language or the | in a humourist is to take a knock in the very vitals of friendship. HERE AT WILL.” Morning Paper Headline. “WHY ZEPPELINS COME But they don’t come at him; they come from him. From a book aihiliiiabe a **60. Sinclair’s Satan’s Visible World Diseovere d. 61. Sinclair’s Fifty Gans of Newspaper Life.’ Mr. Puncu, on behalf of his contemporaries, begs to assure his readers that the two things are not necessarily identical. ‘* First-class companies have been booked throughout the season, including such as ‘ Diplomacy,’ ‘Mr. Will Grumpy, > «Pearl Girl, ; ‘Potash and Perlumker,’ ‘Girl from Utah,’ ‘Marri age Market,’ ‘Oh, Oh, Dolphine,’ and other London successe Official Guide to Rhyl. We regret to see no mention of “The Man Who Stayed at Rome.”

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en Tag | B | NoveMBeER 17, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAR IVARL 401 CHARIVARIA. At the Lorp Mayor’s banquet, the First Lorp or THE ADMIRALTY that the whole strategy of the Allies is based on the Fleet. ‘This will, we hope, dispel the notion, apparently current in certain quarters, that it ought to be based on Fleet Street. said In replying to the toast of the Services Mr. Batrour showed something less than his usual felicity of diction when i he said that “in ordinary peace-times | the Navy and Army are diunk as part of the ordinary routine of any public ceremony.” We read that the Bulgarians obtained much valuable booty in Nish, which, in a telegram of congratulation to its captor, Kina FERDINAND described as “a general castle of treachery and lies.”” This is the first inti- mation we have had that the Bulgar was running short of those commodities. A certain public department recently sent to headquarters the usual requisition form for office necessaries. In reply came a circular emphasizing the need for economy, and a letter explaining that every article but one had been reduced by one-half. The exception was Red Tape, another proof of the indomitable persistency of “the thin red line.”’ The latest variant of the classical phrase runs: Timeo ©®T Danaos et dona petentes, and may be idiomatically rendered : ‘l am a little uneasy about benevolent neutrality seeking a loan.” A sheep carrying in its shculder a small fragment of shell realised five pounds six shillings at a charitable sale the other day; and oyster-sellers are contemplating a sympathetic rise in the price of their commodities. After quoting Mr. Asquitu’s words, ‘Tl am determined to win this war,” Der Tag observes sarcastically, “ These words will be immortal. They will cause his memory to live so long as the history of nations and of their wars remains on the records of time.”’ For once Der Taq has probably deviated into accuracy. By a strange mistake the establish- ment of a new glove industry in New- castle is described as an outcome of the War. In reality we are just taking the gloves off. “Nor LIKELY! FOR IT To combat espionage the French Government has put up _ notices: “Don’t Talk,’ “Be Discreet,” ‘ Ene- mies are Listening,” in public places and vehicles. In the circumstances a contemporary’s comment upon the in- ternment of Mumm, the champagne- grower—that his name “was synony- mous with everything French—except the four letters it contained ’’—was singularly inappropriate. According to a Dutch paper the reprieve of Count HeEmMpTINNE, a Belgian nobleman sentenced to death by a German court-martial, was due to the fact that his relatives paid a ransom of two million franes. The ‘““WHY DON’T YOU OPEN THE WINDOW, GRANDFATHER, AND SOME OF THE SMOKE OUT?” Look WHAT I’VE GOT TO PAY AN now.” very|Germans spared the hemp and kept| the remainder. nde * Overheard in the “ Eastern Counties” d propos of a recent air-raid: “ They ’re in a terrible state at ——. My Aunt’s been under the kitchen table for a fortnight.” The darkened streets of London are said to be responsible for the abandon- ment of the annual show of the London Cage Bird Association, the oldest bird club in the United Kingdom. We our- selves have noted a decided disincli- nation on the part of old birds to be out late these nights. Climatic conditions, we are told, prevented the King of BuLGaria from making a flight in the Zeppelin which arrived at Sofia the other day. Poor FERDINAND is a perfect martyr to cold feet. The New York World says that President Wiison never dared to press the Lusitania case “lest Germany should flatly decline to disavow it and reduce his noble diplomatic victory to kindling wood.” This seems to us an unfair reflection on an excellent material. After all, kindling wood is often used to kindle something, especi- ally when accompanied by a few scraps of note-paper. All the romance is going out of life. At an American maternity hospital they take a print of the foot of every child within an hour of its birth, with | the result that it is impossible for any of |the in‘ants thus treated to be ‘changed ;at nurse.” Ifthis sort of thing jis allowed to go on a large |number of deserving novelists and dramatists will find that they have been literally stamped ; out of existence. On2 of our Ministers has a grievance against The Observer. He started to read an article headed : «The Great Churchill,” and then found it was only a Life of the first Duke of Martr- BOROUGH, Delikatessen. ‘*Congratulations were offered to Lord De Ramsey on his safe return from Germany. His Lordship made a brief acknowledgment, and_ re- marked: ‘ Roast goat and sour trout are not very good things to eat.’ ’’ Peterborough and Hunts Standard, ‘Girl Wanted to take out daily little boy, aged 3.’’ Birmingham Daily Mail. In his daily mail-cart, we sup- ——__—! pose. : OUNCE ‘‘Mr. Lansing is trying to arrange with the British authorities with a view to publication of the Note on Morning morning.”—Scofsman. And Sir Epwarp Grey, breaking into the Scottish vernacular, replied “ I will do it the morn’s morn.” Suggested War-song for those mem- bers of Volunteer Corps who want to go to the Front :— ‘‘Tommy, make room for your Uncle.” | | | | | ‘‘The farmers take a great pride in their hedges, which are fenced on the inside with two lines of wife to prevent the cattle from eating the foliage.’’— Northern Echo. In imitation of the Germans’ methods in Belgium. ‘‘The Cabinet is being strongly pressed to invite one or more French generals to sit on | the new General Staff.’’ Evening Times and Echo. | . . . . \It is’ believed that the Cabinet itself effectively sat on the old one. VOL. CXLIX. | |

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| 402 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON \ CHARIVARL {November 17, 1915, WAR NOTES. THE report, published in the evening Press of last Wednesday, that a meeting was being ar ranged between | the Kings of Bulgaria, Greece and Rumania, “at Bukarest | still lacks official authority, though it has since been _ confirmed by the Panama correspondent of an Amsterdai ' conference of Balkan monarchs has paper, and by our own representative at Monte Carlo, the | latter adding the further interesting statement that this been summoned by Lord KircHENER. The enthusiasm aroused by President W11son’s latest | Note to Great Britain has distracted the attention of the | considering whether, | plices. American public from the ease of Herr Fay and his accom- | It is fel that, while any attempt on the part of these gentlemen to blow up American ships at the insti- gation of the German Foreign Office should be discouraged, the matter is one of minor importance as compared with the necessity of insisting that Great Britain should adopt the German ideal of the freedom of the seas. 'n view of the familiar behaviour of its captain and crew, the opinion is widely held that the submarine which sank the Ancona was a German U-boat masquerading under the Austrian flag, and the Italian Government is gravely now that Germany is at war with Italy, the friendly relations between these two countries can any longer be usefully maintained. The advertisement given to The Daily Telegraph in the _buckmasterful speech from the Woolsack (subsequently endorsed by Lord Ropert Ceci) has given great satis- | faction to the staff of that journal, who now sing every | Sr: ANLEY, on!” night a chantey beginning, ‘“ Buck, master, buck! On, Unhappily this gratuitous réclame is said to have caused considerable umbrage in Carmelite House, 'and it is doubtful whether The Daily Mail will see its way to continue extending to the Government its whole- hearted support. The rumour that Mr. Annan Bryce, M.P., whose recent activities in the House at Question- time have been excep- tional, has been invited to join the Serbian Headquarters Staff in an advisory (civilian) capacity is still unconfirmed, | but in the meantime it has been well received in British ‘run: or oueneneanmenes Ministerial circles. Our Plenipotentiary at Eleusis reports that an Iron Cross | is about to be conferred upon Kina Constantine by his Imperial brother-in-law. Following the precedent of his namesake, the EMPEROR ConsTANTINE, the inscription will In hee signo vinces, We have it from our representative in Stony Arabia that a special camel, of thoroughbred extraction, is now in | training for the imminent entry of Kaiser WILHELM into Baghdad. Sir Hersert Tree, in his lecture on “Humour in Tragedy ”’ (reproduced in the current issue of The English Review), gives the following advice: ‘“ When the hour [of victory] strikes let the note be solemn. Let us have the humour to go forth to greet the Angel of Peace with anthems rather than with comic songs.”” It is not every- body who could be trusted to appreciate the subtlety of this facetious homily, but we feel confident that the Angel of Peace, whose keen sense of humour is notorious, will ‘be vastly tickled by it. O. §. ! THE TELEPHONE AT THE FRONT. | Dear Mr. Puncu,—I have not yet received my second ‘pip. I know fellows who were gazetted days’after me who have two, while I remain, in spite of my peculiar qualifi- | cations, a mere Second Lieutenant. Clarence, for instance, ‘has two, and he merely lets out mo-bikes. As for ex- plaining how a telephone-works to a red-hat, why, he wouldn’t know which end to speak into; and I don’t think | he ever bumps into the Staff at all. On the other hand, I suppose I know more about the ways of Staff Officers than they do themselves. Of course, that’s my métier. You know the man at home who comes to the back door with a little black bag and ‘a two days’ | beard, and says he’s come to mend the telephone : and you | say, “Oh, very well, I suppose it's all right: let him come |in, but keep an eye on the spoons? W ell, that ’s me— out here. I am the man who brings the telephone to the Staff. They all want it—the D.D.M.S., the A.P.M., the R.T.O. | them how it works. lall of them, and I have to take it to them and show | The other day I built a telephone line out to Divisional | Headquarters at On the terrace of the chateau was a Staff Officer i | October sunshine. I saluted smartly. ‘Good morning, Sir; I’ve brought you a telephone.” ‘“ By Jove,” said the Staff Officer, “ splendid. -That’s just what we want—what? I say, you know, can we talky- talky on it?” « Yessir.” “T say, ripping ; by Jove—what ?” “Where shall I put it, Sir?” He showed me where he wanted it. leads and rang up the Corps. The Staff Officer was delighted. _ “ What a jolly little bell ! for?” “ That’s to ring them up, Sir.’ in the wrong direction until he had unscrewed it. He turned to me pathetically, with the thing lield up between his thumb and fore-finger. ‘“*T say, I’m awfully sorry; have I broken it?” I screwed the handle on again and showed him how to turn it. Half-an-hour later, when I left him, becoming quite proficient. I am never technical with the Staff; stand it. A week or’so ago I took a ‘phone into an office— all gold and crimson in the | T connected up the And what's that little handle | Going up to the instrument he worked the handle round | he was | they don’t under- | the Director or Deputy-Director of something or other, at | \the moment I didn’t notice what. He told me to put the | telephone on his desk. After I had joined it up, I explained to him how to use it. “This end,” I said, ‘ you put to your ear; the you speak into ; and while you’re speaking you must keep the spring there pressed down. And mind, you can’t ring them up until you ’ve put the receiver back here.” I also showed him how to ring tlie bell. He seemed a little impatient. said, “ Your excellent exposition in telephony has been invaluable to me. Good morning.” But there was that in the tone of his voice that I did not understand, and as I went out of the office I glanced up at the little wooden notice-board above the door. On it were the letters D. A. 8. I have not told these things, Sir, to any but you. I have the honour to be, Sir, The Only Subaltern who has instructed the Dimecron or Army Sienacs in the use of the telephone. P.S.—I am still awaiting a second pip. When I had finished he other end |

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. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 17, 1915. NOVEMBER who | iliti- | | nee, } ex- | ; HW | "4 Pi: iM; Mi 4% Ml, es NI) Vy 2", i\y vink | the | ise, | mes | | ays’ | | you ' ome | 1e— | va AN \\ \\ \\ .— | | taff. | , | how AX Wag \ a onal | was the Se o2/|//// ieee | just | SS | LW lky- | ; f MO } } } 6] f f 0 4%, ‘ H i, hs! / s , Y's SSN SAA Ty SS AS my Vil » the ndle | yund He veen | v to | was der- PeE— r, at | the | ined | | end keep ring A he | een that d as | »den A. 8. 70" DERBY’S DAY. | WITH MR. PUNCH’S COMPLIMENTS TO THE DIRECTOR OF RECRUITING.

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| | | Dash,

November 17, 1915.]} PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 405

he Y

PREDICAMENT OF ON BELLONA’S HEM. CHIVALRY. I was sitting by my friend, Private on the top of the motor-bus. | Having enlisted at the beginning of the | strange foreign city, War, on the impulse, he has had his full share; but though he has been at the Front for some months and has been in many engagements he is so far unhurt. He was at home on short leave and riding on the bus-top rather for enjoyment and to see more of that London (it was a fine day), than of necessity, for he is a landowner in the Shires, and he will have a good four-figure income to his name, even after the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER has done his worst vith it. He has his own reasons, into which I need not enter, for remaining a private. For a man of his tempera- ment they are sound enough. Well, we had not much more than established ourselves Piccadilly Circus, going West, when an old lady on the seat in front of ours leaned back and spoke to my friend. She was one of those old ladies whose curves are all very soft. She had pretty grey hair and gold-rimmed glasses, and the voice at Uf aii Mi <i i mi iy N

DURING A ZEPPELIN RAID. AN UNSTARRED MAN WHO HAS TAKEN THE FIRST “ih from its kind usually called motherly. Turning half round she asked my friend what regi- ment he was in. He told her. And had he been wounded? No. But he had been in the trenches? Oh, yes. And he was going back? Directly almost. And here the conductor came up with | “All fares, please.” We felt for our money, but the old lady interposed. “ Young man,” she said to the Squire of , “I can’t let you pay for yourself. I should like to pay for you. It’s little enough one is able to do for our brave soldiers.” Poor Dash, he was embarrassed by her praise and for a second staggered by her action; but there was a fine light in his face as he thanked her and watched her extract his penny as well as her own from the old-fashioned purse in her reticule. “ There,” two pennies to the conductor—* it would be a shame to let you pay that yourself,” These are the awkward moments. It was so comic and so beautiful; and [ was glad when my friend, although we were far from our destination, stood up to descend. lntanaiiiain. is | she said, as she handed the | third with a foot—all COVER. AVAILABLE On the pavement he spoke. “ Another minute and I should have - “ Laughed,” I supplied. “ No, cried,” said the hero of a year’s campaign.

Our Acting Adjutant again. ‘* BaTTaLION ORDERS. No. 8621, Pte. P. T. Smith and four mules will be the Forty-’leventh Brigade for discipline.”’ Mules have not yet reported the result of the discipline. Jones with No. 9812, Pte. attached to rations and an outcome of the war, we a new globe industry has been started in Newecastle-on- Tyne.’’—Staffordshire Sentinel. Just as an old Globe industry has been stopped (only temporarily, we hope) in London. ‘Watch them as they perhaps feed piece after piece of metal into a machine with one hand, pull a lever with another, and push a at a rate that makes one giddy to watch. As one of our guides would tell you, girls acquire soon a quickness and deftness and aptitude for this kind of work that few men can attain.’’—Morning Paper. So few men have three hands, unfor- tunately.

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| pads and goes on to bowl. | and present news from the Balkans 406 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [NoveMBER 17, 1915, CHANGING THE BOWLING. Ir begins to look as if the supply of Greek Premiers is going to run out. They must be getting near the point when the wicket-keeper takes off his All past being now severely censored, any tele- |immediately dissolved. Athens is ‘bored. M. Venezenos has gone to Crete. Later. — The Kine has sent for M. Raut, who has undertaken to form a Cabinet. The attitude of the new Premier is said to be one of Inert Cupidity toward all the belligerent Powers. He has long been known as Rosey him as Ministers without port- | folio. “The position of Greece as a | Strictly Continental Power,” he points out in an open letter to his wife, “must ‘ever make her chary of operations on | the sea-board.” March 9th.—Following upon the re- | mobilization of the Chamber, which ;was quietly effected during the ad- | graphic information that we publish a personal friend of Kina Consranting, | journment of the Army, the THEOKITIS upon this topic will have to be of a whom he has always held to be the)Cabinet fell without a division this prophetic character. ' greatest living Naval Commander. The | afternoon, January Ast, 1916, Salonika. — A| Government can count on the active|M. VenezExos (who has returned from political crisis has been precipitated by co-operation of M. VENEzELOs (who is | Cyprus) was out at lunch. the resignation of M. VenrzeLos and his Cabinet owing to a triumphant vote of confidence. Later—M. Micwnenimpakis has consented to form a Government. It is believed that the crisis is already over as the new Premier, commanding a strong minority, should have no difficulty—except a numerical one — in meeting the Chamber. M. VENEzELOos has given an undertaking that he will support the new Cabinet for not less than | two weeks. M. MIcHELIDAKIS, who is a convinced pro-Montenegrinist with anti- Bessarabian sympathies, | has stated publicly that, in - his opinion, Kine ConstrantTINeE is the’ greatest living strategist. The’! ' policy of the new Premier is de- , scribed as being one of Tender and Affectionate Neutrality to- wards the Entente Powers. There | is no truth in the rumour that, he contemplates conveying the benevolence of his neutrality from one side to the other. Athens is. calm. | January 15th.—The erisis which | followed the fall of the Govern- | ment is regarded as being at an end. M. Counpourtotis, the’ new Premier, is very popular in| Greece. His attitude is under- | stood to be one of Malevolent. Impartiality towards the Central - Powers, and the idea that he will transfer his impartiality from one side to the other is scouted by the well- informed. Interviewed last night by an Italian journalist he is reported to have said that he regards Kina Con- STANTINE as the finest of living Diplo- matists. Later.—The list of Ministers with their portfolios is published, and reveals the striking fact that it contains the names of no fewer than four men who have never during the past year held the post of Premier. M. VENEZzELOS has retired from public life. February 3rd.—The defeat of the Counbouriotis Cabinet by 97 votes and its consequent resignation has caused little surprise. Parliament will be returning from Crete). Athens is ? 4 ay —- 1 A 7 -"s 44° THE BROKEN MIRROR. Paddy (who has had his periscope smashed by a bullet). ‘‘ SURE, THERE’S SEVEN YEARS’ BAD LUCK FOR THE POOR DIVIL THAT BROKE THAT, ANNYHOW.”’ getting used to it. The Army has been demobilized. February 19th.—Owing to the politi- cal crisis the Army has been prorogued. The defeat of the Ratti Government by 168 votes was anticipated. M. VENE- ZELOS in his great speech on the con- stitutional situation explained that he considered that he had given this lot a very fairrun. The Kiva has sent for M. THEOKITIS. M. VENEZELOS has gone to Cyprus. Later.—The new Premier’s attitude ‘is officially stated to be one of Genial ‘Inability. Parliament is to be instantly demobilized. M. THroxit1s has ordered a new set of portfolios, the others bag worn out by constant handling. |In the meantime his colleagues will Athens |remains unmoved. It just toppled over, while | Later.—The Krxe has sent for | M. VENEZELOS. an interview with an that he considers Kina ConstTan- |TINE the greatest Dodger in HLu- rope. Extremely late—M. VEexrze.os has formed a Cabinet. He will meet the Chamber this afternoon. Latest of All.—The scene in the Chamber to-night points to the final abandonment of Parliamen- tary government in Greece and the establishment of a Dictator- ship. M. VENEZELOs, in an im- passioned speech, has frankly stated that he finds it impossible to conduct the affairs of the nation, encumbered as he is with a majority in the House—a position so hopelessly at variance with all the best traditions of Greek govern- ment. Athens is quite indifferent. The attitude, which had _ been already foreshadowed, of the Dicta- torship is stated to be one of the Strictest Pusillanimity. An Accommodating Animal. ‘* GELDING, bay, 16 hands, good vanner or carter. Suit any tradesman. 10 guineas. A reasonable trial or warranty. a The same bay Gelding, thick set, 8 years, 15 hands. Used to round, 16 guineas. The same bay Gelding, thick set, 16 hands, 6 years. , 40 guineas.’’—The West Sussex Gazette. Not content with announcing the fall of Nish, The Evening News has lost two more capitals on the same day, vide infra :—. ‘*Mr. G. Tyrwhitt Drake, the mayor-elect of Maidstone, who lives at Cobtree, the manor farm of Dingley Dell, referred to in the ‘ ick- wick apers,’ is the owner of one of the largest private collections of caged wild animals in England.”’ ‘*No. 26 Owlstone Road, bath (h. and c.), gas, and bell, suitable for sidecar.”’ Cambridge Daily News. Sidecar (to servant answering bell). “ Bring me my driver.” Later still—M. VeNezkE.os, in | American | reporter, has categorically stated | '}

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5. ort - US a ints nust 3; on 2 re- hich ad- | ITIS | this | hile rom ens for , in} can ited > rAN- en- and tor- im- kly ible ion, a ion all rmn- nt. een | ‘ta- the ° ner | 10 | ity. | ars, rhe Ars. she 1s me lect nor ck- est in NoveMBER 17, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON — ( ‘* HuLio, BILL, WHAT’S GONE WRONG WITH YOUR TROUSERS ?”’ ‘“*TuHat’s How I FOUND 'EM THIS MORNING. THE OLD GIRL I’M BILLETED WITH WANTED HER BOY TO HAVE A KHAKI ARMLET. CHARIVARL. \ NY y NVA ” | will AFTER-CARE OF THE BLINDED SOLDIER. [ts headquarters will be in London, and ii Mr. Punch ventures to call the atten- tion of his generous readers to the! Mr. Tuomas Martin, Superintendent of | moving appeal contained in this letter : | the School forthe Blind at Swiss Cottage. To the Editor of “ Punch.” But very considerable funds will be ’ |needed to carry out this plan in a Dear Srr,—Men who have been! businesslike and satisfactory manner. blinded in fighting for us, and who! I feel sure that there are many among have been trained at St. Dunstan’s,| your readers who will feel that, in spite tegent’s Park, in one of the many/of the numerous calls to which they forms of industry taught there, are now | have so generously responded of late, starting again in life for themselves. |this is another to which they will We who have been engaged in their| readily respond. In doing so they will | training feel very strongly that our re- |be showing the measure of their appre- | sponsibilities should not end with the | home-worker has little chance of be- | coming a useful self-supporting member | self. The purchase of raw material, the maintenance of a satisfactory standard | } ciation for the blinded soldiers who The blind; have so bravely taken up the burden | which has been laid upon them and ihave fitted themselves of the community if he is left to him-| battle of life as gallantly as they fought the battle of their country. Contributions sent to me of excellence and the marketing of| National Institute for the Blind, 226, articles made represent, collectively, a| Great Portland Street, W., should be task which is beyond his powers to|made out to the After-care Branch of accomplish satisfactorily. the Institute. Yours faithfully, So it has been arranged with the| C. ArtHur PEARSON, Council of the National Institute for; Chairman Blinded Soldiers’ and the Blind that they shall establish a/ Sailors’ Care Committee; President branch, the primary object of which! National Institute for the Blind. completion of this training. ll be the after-care of these men. | to fight the, at the! “BEWARE OF IMITATIONS.” t will be under the management of! [Imitation eggs and butter and many other food-disquises have made their appearance in Germany. | Ir your very patient nation Does not raise an angry shout At each nauseous imitation Of the things it does without ; Tf it shows no wish to mutter When you bid it do its best To eat imitation butter With an imitation zest; If it feels no need to question Whether Culture which ordained Such a strain on its digestion Is not similarly feigned ; If it really is contented At its various dinner-hours With the masquerade presented — That is no affair of ours. But one thing we have a voice in: Be your skill however great, There is one thing we rejoice in Knowing you can’t imitate: When the struggle is concluded And the sounds of battle cease, Europe shall not be deluded With an imitation Peace.

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408 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [NoveMBER 17, 1915, | motor (attempted interruption by Pri-| | cikes. All very well for them as ’as THE INGRATITUDE OF PRIVATE WILLOCKS. |... Mule suppressed), bein’ taken from | the gift for it, but I didn’t seem to Scene.— Behind the firing line some- | th’ ’or spital like, an’ I looks up sudden | catch on to it proper some’ow. Various Tom- like, an’ there was Liza standin’ on the | bog, sod things abaht, I did. where near * Wipers. mies scattered about in picturesque | attitudes. Enter Private Bert Willocks, late wownded, now returned to the Front. “’Ere Chorus. “* Ooray!” we are! | again!” “Our Bertie!” ‘“ Room for the | bin, eh ? wounded evo!” ete., ete. Private Greens. An’ w’ere ’ave you! Private Willocks (a -trifle embar- rassed). Oh, well, tell ye the truth, I bin dewn at the Countess’s for a bit. [Derisive and profane chorus. Private Greens (truculently). Wot Countess ? Private Willocks. Countess o’ San- down. Nice place down Sa’sbury way. Private Greens (struggling to cram a patent tobacco cartridge into an under- sized clay pipe). Wot was you doin’ there ? Private Willocks (with an attempt at bravado). Wot would I be doin’, Vegetable? Con-vale-escin’. Private Greens (objectionably). Con- valescin’, was you? Strike me pink, an’ what had yer folks done, eh ? Private Mule (Company humourist). Oh, come orf it, Cabbage; you’re be'ind the times, you are. Ain’t you never ‘eard o’ our Bert’s family, eh? Long-lost heir maskyradin’ as a privit . . » romance of the trenches. Wot? Private Willocks (uneasily). Cheese it, Moke. It wasn’t none o’ my doin’. (Darkly) They come for me—to th’ orspital. Private Greens. They must ’a’ bin ‘ard up. Wasn’t there no orf’cers ‘andy? Private Mule. They thought as ’e was a orf’cer. W’en they sees ’is moustache they says Private Willocks (roused by sore sub- ject). ’Ere, that’ll do. Wot d’ye all want to start on a chap for? I can’t elp ‘avin’ bin at a bloomin’ Countess’s, van I? Corporal Jebb. Well, never mind about the Countess. ‘Ow did ye find old Ginger an’ the girls? Private Willocks. Well, truth, didn’t ‘appen t’ some’ow. Corporal Jebb, Privates Greens and Mule, ensemble. Wot! Private Willocks. Well, it, eh? Private Greens. neither, I suppose ? Private Willocks (still trying to carry it off). Neither I did. Leastways— (gives way). Look ’ere, boys, don’t be ‘ard onachap. I’ll tell ye ’ow it was —strite. We was goin’ along in the tell ye the see Ginger, wot abaht Nor yet the girls 7, Bert,” Lady =i ‘and. , 99 An’ pavement wavin’ ’er says she, “’arf a mo’. | she turns an’ | ) yours?” ‘for : a ’alf-mile or so, seein’ like like that. Miss,” says I, “that’s a fair peach, that is—that’s a bit o’ all right;” an’ ‘next minute I could ha’ bitten my tongue orf. ‘Oh, re-ally,” says she like that, nice and agreeable. Rotten it was o’ me yivin’ things away. Private Greens (after a brief silence). Then I don’t suppose ye saw Mrs. ’Ookey, neither ? Private Willocks (irritably). Course I didn’t. I tell ye I saw none o’ ’em. ‘Ow could I see Mrs. ’Ookey, me bein’ at Sa’sbury ? Private Greens. ’Ookey ’ll love yer. Wot abaht them messages ’e give yer? “You give ’er them words exact,” sez ’e, “or I'll show yer whether I’m a sergeant or not.” Private Mule (with hwnorous intona- tion). And ’e will. Corporal “Tebb. Willix not bein’ a married man, ’e don’t understand them things. Wot’s on at the ‘alls anyway, Bert ? Private Willocks (glocmily). Didn't see no ‘alls. Corporal Jebb. My Wot did ye do, then ? Private Mule. "EK goes out motorin’ with Lady Eva, an’ ’e says Private Willocks. You’re askin’ for trouble, you are. (Jmpressively) We ’ad Greeshyan dances. [The derisive and profane chorus is repeated, Private Willocks. yer like. You don’t know nothin’. pretty it was. Corporal Jebb. Did the Countess do ‘em, Bert ? Private Willocks. Not the Countess— she didn’t. But the Lady Eva an’ all er lot. Private Greens. Rather see MAH-REE Luoyp meself. But there’s no ac- ;countin’. Private Willocks. An’ there was a little kid come there. Only five she was. The Ighgate Wonder, they called ‘er. She sang “ Tipperary” dressed up in the Union Jack. Corporal Jebb (shuddering slightly). Should ha’ thought ye'd ‘ave liked a| ‘at! Pore beggar! You can laugh if Very with “ Tipperary. new ? Private Willocks There was garden parties. (reminiscently). an’ I cor ildn't say nothin’ | Blessingham, she was at the wheel, an’ } you make no mist ake abaht that. says, ‘That an admirer | with myonise an’ cave-ier an | An’ at last I —_ “ Yes, | change. Mule’ ere, e's about fed me up | gary ’Adn’t they nothin’ | recognise Sunday at all.”’ Kept ( ‘orporal ebb. Did they do you well ? Private Willocks. Top ‘ole and don’t Wot Private Greens. ‘Ere, stow it. We Liza sudden- | don’t want that kind o’ talk ’ere. Private Willocks. thought that might fetch yer. music at the garden part‘es. Private Greens. Wot kind o’ music ? Private Willocks. ’Avrps an’—an’— well, ’arps. Private Mule. Jews’ ‘arps, Bertie ? Private Willocks. You don’t nothin’. (With some lack of conviction) That was good music, that was. Private Greens (moodily returning to the charge). But d’ yer mean to say as yer didn’t see no one at all? Wot time! Wot did yer talk abaht ? Private Willocks. Oh, that was all right. They was thunderin’ kind to talk to. There wasn’t no manner o’ diffi- culty there. Though o’ course (a shade regretfully) it wasn’t quite like bein’ with our own lot. Private Greens (with disagreeable em- phasis). I should bloomin’ well think not. Corporal Jebb (reaching out for his mouth-organ). You there, it fair makes me sick to ’ear yer. ‘Ere’s these folks Allright, Cabbage ; We ‘ad goes and puts themselves abaht to be | kind to yer, doin’ everythirg in ‘uman power to give yer a good time, an’ ’ere’s you, an’ wot do you do? Grouse, grouse, grouse for yer low ‘aunts an’ yer old vulgar ‘abits. Yer make me tired. (He begins to play with much feeling “ The Swanee Tiver.’’) Private Greens (for the first time with genuine enthusiasm). ’Exve’s 'Ookey. Private Willocks (nervously). Well, cheer-o, boys; I'll see you again. [Exit. ‘arps or Welsh | a | know | Corporal JeLb (pausing in his melody). | Grouse, grouse, grouse! Low-muinded, that’s what I calls yer. there’s some sense, Greens, in you was sayin’. But Willocks—'e’s ungrateful. More Pessimism. “The Da ly Mul’s Bird’s-Eye Map of the Front covers une whole of our advance near La Bassée. It measures 4 ft. by 2 ft. 4 ins.’’ On a proposal to hold a § , Sunday con- oe; — ‘Mr. Sheehy said they would not like Skibbereen into a Paris, where they don’t Cork County Eagle. According to our latest Not but what | wot | to } information | Tea an’ | Skibbereen is still—Skibbereen.

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n to Kept vell ? lon’t Wot We age ; e ‘ad isic ? | n’— Telsh now tion) ry to iV as ot a ; all talk | liffi- hade pein’ »CmM- hink his akes | ‘folks o be | man | 1e'S use, - old (He ‘The with y. Vell, it.

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NovEMBER 17, 1915.]

| | RHYMES FOR ALL TIMES. | Tue subjoined interesting letter, | though it was addressed to us, was | apparently intended for a contemporary in whose columns the question of in- | genious rhymes has recently cropped | up. But we make no apology for | availing ourselves of the opportunity | of appropriating so luminous and in- | structive a contribution :— al y | Dear Srr,—When I was an under- | graduate at Balliol, more years ago than I care to remember, JoWETT often | expressed his dissatisfaction with the famous rhyme to Timbuctoo, which he | considered much overrated, and one | day, at a breakfast party, appealed to me to improve upon it. genuine impromptu, ran as follows :— | ‘*One day, while hunting near my villa Upon the plains of Timbuctoo, I shot a very stout gorilla, I shot a very slim buck too.’ JOWETT was delighted, and for days | | afterwards was found repeating my | quatrain at the most incongruous times | and in the most unsuitable places— ; even in chapel, so it was said. Fora fuller account of the incident I may | refer your readers to my Dialogues with | the Departed, chap. xi., p. 534-9. | Stimulated by the correspondence in | | i /your columns I have, after a long My effort, a | PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI.

YA <iins Mills "Ga&- Popular Actor, ‘‘I’VE MADE UP MY MIND TO JOIN THE ARMY. AFTER ALL ONE MUST REMEMBER THAT ONE IS ONLY A LUXURY.”

‘interval of abstention, been moved to try my hand once more at an exercise |of ingenuity in which as a youth I gained some small repute, and venture to send you the results :— | ‘*Ttalia boasts her Srtvio PELLICco, England relies on gallant JELLICOE.”’ ‘* Worse even than the Suvla Bay loss Has been the fall of Ven1zELos.”’ ! , . . . ‘«T’d rather be caged in a leonine den with The brave prophet Daniex than CourTNEY | oF PENWITH.”’ ‘*Mr. GLADSTONE, who tried to talk Basque with The Basques, paid a visit to Fasque with His gifted disciple, young AsQuiTH.”’

| | “ Fasque,” I need hardly remind your | |readers, was the seat of Mr. Guap-| STONE’s brother, Sir THoMAs GLADSTONE, | of whom some characteristic anecdotes will be found in my Conversations with | Elder Statesmen, vol. iii., p. 952. Iam, Sir, Yours faithfully, | LEMUEL LONGMIRE. | Megatheriwn Club. | |

‘The booty captured at Nish up to the present amount to 42 guns, thousands of rifles, much ammunition, 700 railway mar- riages, and many automobiles.’’ Morning Paper. A case of “marriage by capture” or | “automatic coupling.” | THE JEUNE PREMIER. How oft, my queen, in quest of the | romantic, Ere war began we watched the Thespian art Of Vivian Vere! How positively frantic He drove you with his Fair-Young- Hero part! While I—I found your taste a trifle rotten— Was quite forgotten. To-night, when once again in youthful garb he Spread out his lures for us, you cold ; Your silence said, “ Begone Lord Derpy ; Shirker, be off, and get you rolled !”’ It seemed your high regard for that young hero Was down to zero. they left to good rsell en- You wronged him, fairest. Vivian would be willing, No doubt, to quit his trix the stage, Could those who offer one shilling But overlook his most unmartial age: That lad, in whom erewhile ycu found a heaven, Is fifty-seven !

unphs of | the regal

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410 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. [NovemBer 17, 1915. — > Husband. ‘‘ Ary’? I ENovGH?”’ TO PATRICK, AGED TWO. | Wen Patrick howls, the moping owls | Hoot weirdly, and the Banshee yowls; | Groans issue from the chimney cowls; Sly Reynard murderously prowls In search of unprotected fowls ; And masons strike and “down” their | trow'ls, And ev’rybody frowns and scowls— When Patrick howls. Contrariwise, when Patrick smiles, Sunshine prevails from Scotland’s Kyles ' To Afrie’s White and Azure Niles; Lame dogs, unhelped, leap over stiles; Prospectors strike the richest iles ; At Question time Sir Winu1Am Byes No more the Opposition riles ; ' And Bernarp SHAW no more reviles The overrated British Isies— When Patrick smiles. But, whensoever Patrick grins, Cynics grow gay as harlequins ; Contentment reigns among the Finns; Kind thoughts preoceupy the Djinns ; And busy barbers, shaving chins, Deal gently with the tenderest skins. No more the hardened sinner sins, Or bullies kick their victims’ shins ; Business is good with Coutts’s, GLyn’s, And all financial paladins ; Port mellows in secluded bins ; In fine the round world smoothly spins, War seems a dream and Peace begins— When Patrick grins. FOR VALOUR. [Austro-German soldiers are said to be com- pelled by their superior officers to swallow pills | to induce courage. | Tue use of these pills to promote bravery is likely to be followed by the employment not only of rival specifics but of other contrivances for obtain- ing effects not easily produced in the military Teuton by ordinary encourage- ment. We give a few sample adver- tisements of such articles :— COWARDS BECOME KINGS, FUNKS BECOME FILBERTS, by means of DR. WILHELM’S PANIC PILLS FOR PALEST PIP-SQUEAKS. (Similar to those advertised in Punch's : Almanack), THE BEST COURAGE-PRODUCER ON THE MARKET. A Company Officer writes :—Since I began giving your pills to my men I have not had to flog more than half-a-dozen a day for flinching, COOL-AS-CUCUMBER SOAP MAKES THE SKIN IMPENETRABLE. A little rubbed into the scalp prevents the hair from standing on end. | Buusnine (for one’s country). Do ‘you suffer from this painful malady ? If so what you want is Mother Eagle’s Soothing Syrup. A dose does wonders. Herr Schmidt writes :—The Lusitania inci- dent brought on a painful attack of blushing, but one or two spoonfuls of your remedy soon made me absolutely shameless. GRIP NUTS. Take them daily and your step will be springy and your nose high. Crowds in Unter-den-Linden will break up to let you go by when you move with the Grip- Nuts swing. Civilians do not wait to be jostled ; they are in the gutter before you can say Eitel. SUBALTERNS OF THE GERMAN ARMY secure Instant PRomorIon by eating CAPTAIN’S BISCUITS. The biscuit for the purpose. Pro- duces such complete confidence in the field that your superiors give you your third star while you wait. HOHENZOLLERN’S POTATO PORRIDGE. MAKES YOU CONTENT WITH ANYTHING. TRY IT! German readers should beware of FrENcH’s British Expeditionary Force, which is a highly dangerous preparation. Potato Porridge is what you want ‘(and what you will get). Eat it.

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| NovEMBER 17 » 1915.) PU NC. Hy, | ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. | | (EXTRACTED FROM THE Diary oF Topsy, M.P.) Monday, national Nov é mbe } crisis the House of Lords, 8ih.— At time of | hours round the War. | Commons dally in prolongation of week- | end _ holiday. Noble Lords, heedless | of personal convenience, assemble to | discuss affairs. ‘“ Reminds me,” said MEMBER FOR | Sark, looking on scene from Commons’ troubadour’s lady-love :-— ‘Sadly she thought of him Whilst others slept.’ Whilst we of the Commons make holi- | day here are the Lords, sadly thinking of their country, g athered toget her tosaveit. A litt le unkind of ‘Laxs- DOWNE, after sitting through three hours of the talk, to remark,‘ There has probably never been a more discursive debate.’ ”’ JEREMIAH, first Earl of Lore- BURN, led off with chapter of Lamentations. Looked back on story of fifteen months of war and, behold! it was very bad. A Cabinet three yeirs ago deprived of priceless counsel and com- panionship had blindly blundered along. Speaking later, CourTNEY mingled his tears with JEREMIAH’S ‘Whether,’ he moaned, ‘we look at home or abroad, our old civilisation, which we had _ built up through long generations, is almost destroyed.” In vigorous speech MILNER brought debate to bear upon actualities of the hour, with special reference to situation in the Balkans. Admitted he trod on unsafe ground. Murmur of sympathy ran over benches when 1e alluded to himself ‘“who called a spa’e a spade with a rope round his neck.” Useful purpose of debate at length appeared in sharp commentary on | organised custom whereby, as MILNER, as one | fearless of the rope ro ind his neck, bluntly put it, “such war rews as is published has from firs last been Cr57) it till after nakes it ancient ing. uch as it is, ilo makin the public seriously misleading is withheld interval of time tha history. Curzon replied to this and other | criticisms. Hinted at possibility promptly publishiz of en- sements without into details After two or three from + uit of ig accounts gag going useful to the enemy. weeks, might names and details. A clumsy device, but anything better than the present grotesque, unavailing, | ostrich-like system. |statement made by H. W. | Gallery below Ba», “of pretty story of | | payers’ resolve to THOUGH ON CALLS A SPADE be supplemented with | /and THE LONDON OR Talked fox three No Resolution )| being submitted, got home in time for dinner. House of Tuesday. - House heard with profound satisfaction FORSTER on behalf of War Offee with respect to woeful waste of food in Training Camps throughout the country. Cheery pros- pect of being mulct to extent of one- half his income does not chill tax- carry on the War to Business done. Conumons, its appointed end. He sees with concern, | but without approach to downhearted- the daily cos a- day mounting up from | to five millions. ness, three millions UNSAFE GROUND, A SPADE, He will pay to the uttermost farthing. _CH ARIV. ARI. Lorp MILNER BOLDLY But, with national business instinct, he: | wants full return for his money. To hear or read of wholesale wanton waste of ¢ cood and costly food, the of lack of 8) stem and plan« f administra- tion almost incredible in its unintelli- gence, rouses just anger. No complaint is made of wastas is inevitable. It is in the Home Camps, where no such excuse or extenuation exists, that a scandal prevails which invites peculaticn According 4 Forster the War Ofiice, waking up at end of fifteen has resolved to deal with the matter. “A complete organisation is now in existence,’ “with result that the messing has been improved, economy months, he said, result | geat the Front, where it | ADMIRALTY, who daily tions for his absent chief. MAcnamara declined an invitation extended by Member for West Clare to discuss details of defences of London against Zeppelin attacks. * Does the answer of the Right Hon. Gentleman,” persisted Lyncn in one of thoze Supplementary Questions that are responsible for much ill-fecling, “show his inability to reply, does it really mask gross incompetence in his department? ”’ ‘The answer answers ques- or ” means what it says, ,was MAcnaMAra’s sharp response. done.—Remaining clauses | Business of original Finance Committee. Wednesday.—A full House to hear the Premrer’s speech cn moving new Vote of Credit, the fifth since War began. Lord CouRTNEY, wearing the waistcoat of a blameless life, looked on, sole occupant of the Peers’ Gallery. In speech of less than hour’s duration PREMIER stated that total Votes of Credit amount- ed to hitherto unheard - of sum of £1,662,000,000. New one wou'd carry us on till the middle of February, that is if expenditure: of five millions a day 311] passed through white | | an | current | is not exceeded. Only cheerful | | note in this portion of speech | occurred when he expressed hope | that the sum would suffice. Later there was another gleam when he declared his conviction that ‘ the fine spirit and resources cf the Allies will bring the War to a triumphant conclusion.” Business done-—New Vote of Credit for £400,000,000. Sitting came to abrupt conclusion with adjournment of the House at a quarter- past ten, by way of rebuke to PRE wER and h is colleagues in the Cabinet absent from Treasury Bench threugh- out debate. ‘* As far as can be ascertained the intention of the Federal Government is to float a loan of | only £500,000,CCO before Christmas. The other instalments will be left until next year. This will make much less disturbance in financial circles than the £20,000,000 loan.’’ Albury Banner (New South Wales). |Mr. McKenna is now contemplating | emigration. has been effected and waste reduced.”’ | At Question time little bout between | Judging ex-Colonel Lyncu, late of § PARLIAMENTARY SECRETARY ‘‘ It is announced that an American confer- ence at New York unanimously decided to re- cognise the German Government in Mexico.”’ Egyptian Gazette. by what we have read of | South Africa, } Mexico in recent years the confusion is TO jpondenante.

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| 414 OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [NovemBer 17, 1915, (i CONFLICTING VIEWS OF THE PRESENT PERSONAL APPEARANCE OF WILHELM II. THE ECONOMISTS. HAPPENING to mention at lunch that I had just come from the International Society’s Exhibition and liked a picture of three women “mid nodings on,” I was eagerly asked whom it was by. (They said * who.’’) “1 don’t know,” I answered. * Well, the catalogue told you, didn’t it?”’ my hostess remarked. “JT didn’t have a catalogue,” I had to confess. “ Didn’t have a catalogue!’ “ How quaint!” ‘How extraordinary!” It was generally agreed that not to have a catalogue was one of the oddest things. | “Then you don’t know who painted any of the pictures?” “Oh yes, Ido,” Isaid. I know some.” “ How?” “ Well, some artists have the decency to sign their names. Their names in full and clearly, I mean; not just a scribble or N, hike the man who painted the jolly Indian bull. And then for the others I have two ways. Either I go to the desk, give the number and in- quire the price, or I look over the shoulders of people who have bought a catalogue.” “ Don’t they object?” “T don’t do it so crudely as that,” I explained. | “ But why don’t you buy a cata-| logue?” some one else asked. “TI can’t do it,” I said; “I can’t! bring myself to do it. It’s an ex- pense [ shrink from, and I can’t over- come the shrinking. I can go to a picture-gallery in a taxi, pay to enter, and leave in a taxi, and yet be unable to put down the shilling or even sixpence that the catalogue costs. I could even buy a picture, but I can’t buy a cata- logue. It’s a sign of madness, no doubt. But there is a mild madness in our family.” “Everyone has a blind spot of that kind,” said another of the company, and then we got to work on our pet economies. One man could not take a taxi be- | yond one-and-fourpence. No matter where he was he had to get out there and then and either walk or take a bus. Another, a lady, could not buy flowers. It seemed to her so monstrous, such an outrage, that flowers should be charged | fcr. They ought to be given away. They | just grew and grew beautifully out of! God's earth (you know this type ?), and for money to pas; and profit to be made was horrible. Horrible. We all agreed. Here a man interposed, saying if we felt like that about flowers, what about weeds? Eh, what? For his part he struck at paying more than three-pence each for a cigar so long as the War lasted. He used to smoke Havanas, but now he didn’t mind what it was so long as it had the outward semblance of a cigar. And so we went on until, after a particularly precious avowal of pet economy on the part of a lady in neutral-tinted butter muslin (or some- thing very like it), we all had a rude shock. “T quite understand that feeling,” said a young man in khaki who was at home for just a week. “I have exactly the same abhorrence of buying large quantities of radium. Two or three pounds’ weight is as much as I can force myself to get at a time. Very absurd, of course, because a cellarful would be much more economical.” That was the end of it. This ass always ruins serious discussion with his ill-timed jokes.

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I ¥ —_le == | | NovemBer 17, 1915.| PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. 415 9 ay — Wer i YALA Sportsman (to the man he has backed, who has been receiving all the geameionent. ‘““WHY AREN'T YOU AT THE FRONT? SLACKER!” > “T’ll make it sixpence more for luck AMILY TIES. an’ because o’ the times: I never (On the way to the Plough and Horses.”) thought to see y’r ol’ mug no more.” “ Wet, Tom, ol’ son, these be strange; ‘“‘ Sixpence ’ll fair baffle ’em, I should days when a father bain’t at liberty to say. Let's go in an’ ‘ave a drink over ask ‘is son to ‘ave a glass wi’ ’m over! y' safe return.’ ‘is safe return, wi’ no more’n a wound} ss : as is nearly ‘ealed.” . ay for me—that be sixpence, «Wouldn't matter so much if a father | an’ a quart for vou—that doubles it—a could accept a glass ‘long of ‘is son ‘oo bob. Then that ‘ere sixpence as you ulf ‘is time never thought t’ see ‘is ol’ threw in for luck makes eighteenpence. mug no more.” Doing it that way I don’t see ‘ow «“ An’ I guess y’r pockets be warmly Government can ever get wind o' it— lined ?”’ nor I don’t. You ’and the eighteen- “We ain’t ’ad much time, some’ow, | pence to me Saturday night same time for shopping over there.” you ‘ands y’r mother y’r board money, “Well, may’s well ‘ave a drink—/an’ I shan’t be one to split on you, wishes ‘Il be the same ‘ooever pays. neither!” But it don’t seem so ‘omely like, an’) “I see you be the same ol’ grab-all not the sort o’ thing to keep a family as ever; war ain't changed you at all. together, same’s I’ve been used to see I said as I’d pay for you, but I’ve ‘em kep’.” paid for myself already, ain’t I now?” “If I was to pay you so — extry “ You paid landlord; that’s very for m’ grub ‘at ’ome—weeks I'm ’6me like 4 | —'ow would that be? An’ leave you; “ Didn’t you see me doing of it?” to settle ere.” “ T saw you doing of it; I don’t mind “'Tis pretty plain a3 you ‘aven’t owning to that.” been used to English ways o’ late.’ ‘“ Well, then!” Things can’t be run like that—not now. ‘“ But surelye you ain't going to say Each man ’e’s got to ‘and out the as you grudge me the money for beer money for the beer ’e drinks, That as was drunk to y'r own good-’ealth ? be law.” Your paying landlord ain’t doing me a | “ Then if I adds to m’ board Saturday | favour, is it now?” night what you drinks to-night,’oo’s “Paying twice over, though, would to stop me doing that?” be once too often for me.” “You'd better make it a penny more; ‘Then yours ain’t the large-’earted or less—something to set ‘em off the spirit of ’elpfulness as our good King scent if they gets nosing round,” ave } angetnes on us in fighting times You wi’ the chance o’ earning a pot o’ money an’ next to nought t» spend it on, an’ y’r poor ol’ father wi’ nothing but a penny on this an’ twopence on that to cheer ‘im on ‘is way.” “T see you be the same as ever—the one to talk a man up an’ down till ’e | be ready to gi’e you ought as ‘Il shut yr mouth for you. If I agrees to pay eighteen-pence on Saturday for this night’s well-wishing, will that satisfy y’r avaricious ol’ soul ?”’ “That ‘ll be more in keeping wi’ the way I've always ‘eld a family should be kep’ together. Families did ought to go ‘and-in-’and, not so much o’ ‘ this be mine an’ t’ other ‘issen.’ ”’ “That be a thought o’ mine, come | along in m’ blood, belike, as I got from you. I'll gi’e the eighteen-pence to Mother, come Saturday, long o' m’ board-money, an’ between you an’ me -all’ll be settled an’ done with com- fortable.”’ “You gi’e it to me, Tom; if your | mother gets ‘old of it she'll stick to it j\like glue, she will. Fat lot o’ good , twill be to me!” “ But I ’ave yourthoughts so wrought into me I can’t get away from what | flesh an’ blood ’ave meted out. Families didn’t ought to ‘ave so much o’ ‘this be mine an t’ other ‘issen’ akout ’em. All comes o’ bein’ your son—honour | /never chose m’self. An’ now difference between paying you an’ paying Mother is a thing I bain’t able to see; only some’ow I fancies most to pay ‘er.”

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416 PUNCH, OR THE L [NovemMBerR 17, 1915. ONDON CHARIVART. UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER. No. XXX. (From the Tsar of BULGARIA.) Most HicHity VENERATED BroTHER,—I cannot refrain from writing to you, though it is highly probable that we shall soon meet in what has been described as the tented field. For that meeting I have made all the necessary preparations. Your life and your welfare are of such high importance to our Common Cause that I shall take care not to expose them to any foolhardy risks. I know that, the battle, wherever the danger is greatest. That, as I say, was my desire; but Rapostavorr dissuaded me. “Sire,” he said, “ at this crisis in the affairs of Bulgaria we cannot afford to lose your wise counsel and your diplo- matic ability even for a single hour. Think of the joy that would be spread amongst our foes if you were wounded. Moderate your ardour and remain where there is some slight prospect of immunity from the dastardly attacks of the Serbians and their Allies. At a distance of twenty kilometres from the Front you can always direct us with- out losing that calm which is essential. While our soldiers and officers do the rough business of fighting you can, at that distance, smile upon their efforts and reward their merits with your august approval. But above all things, I repeat, moderate the ardour which is natural to a soldier and a Tsar.” That was his advice, and, though I must not altogether endorse the flattering terms in which it was conveyed, I was forced to recognise its wisdom and I have therefore adopted it. What glorious days we are living in! If anyone had told me when I first accepted the Bulgarian throne that it would some day be possible for me to spring to the assist- | ance of your Empire and that of our poor old friend, | Francis Josepn, I should have been frankly incredulous. | I could not have believed that you, the son of the peace- | loving Emperor, Frepertck, and I, the grandson of Louts | Puinipreg, the Citizen King of the French, should ever be associated together in the greatest warlike undertaking that the world has ever known; that we should be within reach of a position from which we two together shall be able to dictate laws (or, shall we say, to impose lawless- ness ?) on the whole universe. Yet here we both are, lifted earthly success. He indeed spoke truly who declared that the Prussians were the Bulgarians of Europe outside the Balkans. You yourself will, I am certain, recognise the appropriateness and justice of this pithy declaration, now that Bulgarian valour has again been tested against Serbia, our hereditary foe. There is only one matter in regard to which I take exception to your proceedings, and on this I will speak openly as a Tsar may properly speak to an Emperor. You have lately caused a woman to be shot in Belgium by a sentence of court - martial. Iinglish nurse and that she had broken the German military law by aiding English and Belgian soldiers to save their lives by escaping from Belgium. Still, the fact remains that she was a woman, and that in the course of her merciful employment she tended the wounded of your nation as well as those of herown. I cannot help thinking that it would have been better and more expedient to spare her life. I do not want you to think that I am squeamish or that I shrink from ruthlessness when ruthlessness is ; necessary. My record in Bulgaria should relieve me from such an accusation. But even I am clearly convinced that it was wrong to have this woman killed. The deed has stiffened the resolution of our enemies, and has cast dis- like myself, you are panting to be in the very front line of | by time and our own efforts to the highest pinnacle of | It is true that she was an! grace on our cause in neutral countries, where Germans are now denounced as butchers of women. This is dis- agreeable to me, for I wish to shine in public estimation for chivalry no less than for glory. I know I have merely to hint this to you in order to make sure that such an act, so harmful to our reputation, shall not occur again. In | everything else I am your profound admirer, FERDINAND. GENTLER WAYS WITH THE PRESS. Ix the House of Commons, the other day, some questions | were being asked about the police raid on the offices of The Globe, when the honourable Member for the Pacifie (Sir Wixu1AmM Byves) asked whether there was not some gentler way of dealing with erring newspapers. We deplore the burst of laughter which greeted the question, because we are quite sure that several less drastic expedients might have been tried before the sudden intrusion of the police in force. The gentle word has been known by some of our pictur- | esque writers to break down the most stubborn resolve of even the hardened wrongdoer. To have its full effect it should be spoken by a sweet-faced white-haired old lady, or ‘some frail and fair young thing with moist eyes. Surely | somebody at Scotland Yard has a mother or a sister who could have entered The Globe office timidly and, placing her j}hand on the arm of the Editor or the foreman of the |machine-room, or whoever. it was, appealed to him affec- | tionately to stop it. Or a fair-haired laddie of six summers might have done it if properly coached, without all that trampling of heavy police boots about the place. Surely the heads of the police have had brought to their notice the potency of the little innocent child in melting the heart— the curly-headed boy and the burglar, little Stephen and the wife-beater, being cases in point. * Then, again, birds or white mice might have been tried. Surely it would not have been beyond the powers of Scotland Yard to introduce a robin into The Globe offices. Ere now strong men have wept at the sight of the little red-chested fellow and have resolved thenceforth to lead better lives. Art and poetry should have been brought to bear. Is there no policeman artist who would have lent his master- piece, “Sunshine in the Home” or “Telling the Story to Mother,” to be placed in the Editor's office for a while to exert its silent influence ? And, if it was not convenient for a policeman-poet to turn out a few rhymes at the moment, the works of Etta WHEELER W11.cox can easily be obtained at reasonable prices, and would have had some effect. Or why was not persuasive eloquence tried? Among the special constables of the division in which Zhe Globe offices are situated are numbers of able barristers. Why were not their services employed ? And there is music. The message of music reaches the heart even more swiftly than the spoken words of a barrister. Couldn’t the police band have gone round to the office and played a few selections ? ‘‘TInformation now available indicates that M. Briand will become foreign minister as well as premier, with Jules Cambon, who was a | Mr. Togery at the outbreak of the war, as his principal secretary.’ Norfolk Ledger and Dispatch (U.S.A.). | The correspondent who sends us the cutting kindly ex- lains it as follows:—‘ The cable as received, in describing | P ; a 5 M. Campon, said he was ‘AMR TO GERY,’ which is, of course, Reuter’s abbreviation for ‘Ambassador to Germany.’ The local editor, however, apparently thinking that the passing | by the Censor of such a phrase was too good to be true, gave us the thrilling version set out above.”

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ans lis- ion ely uct, In ons The Sir tler the stic ion ur- > of t it or ely rho her the ‘ec- ers hat ely the und ied. und Ow ted Is ber- ‘to » to for nt, ned the obe r | hy the f a the | | | | | | | | | PUNCH, OR NoveMBER 17, 1915.] THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 417

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en PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [NoveMBerR 17, 1915. grace on our cause in neutral countries, where Germans i are now denounced as butchers of women. This is dis- No, XXX. agreeable to me, for I wish to shine in public estimation (From the Tsar of ButGart.) for chivalry no less than for glory. I know I have merely Most HicHity VENERATED Brotuer,—lI cannot refrain | to hint this to you in order to make sure that such an act, from writing to you, though it is highly probable that we} so harmful to our reputation, shall not occur again. In shall soon meet in what has been described as the tented | everything else I am your profound admirer, UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER. field. For that meeting I have made all the necessary FERDINAND. preparations. Your life and your welfare are of such high importance to our Common Cause that I shall take care GENTLER WAYS WITH THE PRESS. not to expose them to any foolhardy risks. I know that, | : like myself, you are panting to be in the very front line of | Ix the House of Commons, the other day, some questions the battle, wherever the danger is greatest. That, as I | were being asked about the police raid on the offices of The say, was my desire; but Rapostavorr dissuaded me.| lobe, when the honourable Member for the Pacific (Sir “Sire,” he said, “at this crisis in the affairs of Bulgaria we | WILLIAM Byes) asked whether there was not some gentler cannot afford to lose your wise counsel and your diplo-| way of dealing with erring newspapers. __ matic ability even for a single hour. Think of the joy that} We deplore the burst of laughter which greeted the would be spread amongst our foes if you were wounded. | question, because we are quite sure that several less drastic Moderate your ardour and remain where there is some | expedients might have been tried before the sudden intrusion slight prospect of immunity from the dastardly attacks of | of the police in force. the Serbians and their Allies. At a distance of twenty} The gentle word has been known by some of our pictur- kilometres from the Front you can always direct us with- | esque writers to break down the most stubborn resolve of out losing that calm which is essential. While our soldiers even the hardened wrongdoer. To have its full effect it and officers do the rough business of fighting you can, at | should be spoken by a sweet-faced white-haired old lady, or that distance, smile upon their efforts and reward their some frail and fair young thing with moist eyes. Surely merits with your august approval. But above all things, | somebody at Scotland Yard has a mother or a sister who I repeat, moderate the ardour which is natural to a soldier | could have entered The Globe office timidly and, placing her and a Tsar.” That was his advice, and, though I must | hand on the arm of the Editor or the foreman of the not altogether endorse the flattering terms in which it was |™achine-room, or whoever. it was, appealed to him affec- conveyed, I was forced to recognise its wisdom and I haye | tionately to stop it. Or a fair-haired laddie of six summers therefore adopted it. What glorious days we are living in! If anyone had told me when I first accepted the Bulgarian throne that it would some day be possible for me to spring to the assist- ance of your Empire and that of our poor old friend, Francis JosernH, I should have been frankly incredulous. I could not have believed that you, the son of the peace- loving Emperor, Frepertck, and I, the grandson of Lovuts Puiiirrk, the Citizen King of the French, should ever be associated together in the greatest warlike undertaking that the world has ever known; that we should be within reach of a position from which we two together shall be able to dictate laws (or, shall we say, to impose lawless- ness ?) on the whole universe. Yet here we both are, lifted by time and our own efforts to the highest pinnacle of earthly success. He indeed spoke truly who declared that the Prussians were the Bulgarians of Europe outside the Balkans. You yourself will, I am certain, recognise the appropriateness and justice of this pithy declaration, now that Bulgarian valour has again been tested against Serbia, our hereditary foe. There is only one matter in regard to which I take exception to your proceedings, and on this I will speak openly as a Tsar may properly speak to an Emperor. You have lately caused a woman to be shot in Belgium by a sentence of court-martial. It is true that she was an Kinglish nurse and that she had broken the German military law by aiding English and Belgian soldiers to save their lives by escaping from Belgium. Still, the fact remains that she was a woman, and that in the course of her merciful employment she tended the wounded of your nation as well as those of herown. I cannot help thinking that it would have been better and more expedient to spare | her life. I do not want you to think that I am squeamish or that I shrink from ruthlessness when ruthlessness is necessary. My record in Bulgaria should relieve me from such an accusation. But even I am clearly convinced that it was wrong to have this woman killed. The deed has stiffened the resolution of our enemies, and has cast dis- might have done it if properly coached, without all that trampling of heavy police boots about the place. Surely the heads of the police have had brought to their notice the potency of the little innocent child in melting the heart— the curly-headed boy and the burglar, little Stephen and the wife-beater, being cases in point. * Then, again, birds or white mice might have been tried. Surely it would not have been beyond the powers of Scotland Yard to introduce a robin into The Globe offices. Ere now strong men have wept at the sight of the little red-chested fellow and have resolved thenceforth to lead better lives. Art and poetry should have been brought to bear. Is there no policeman artist who would have lent his master- piece, “Sunshine in the Home” or “Telling the Story to _Mother,” to be placed in the Editor's office for a while to |exert its silent influence ? And, if it was not convenient for a policeman-poet to turn out a few rhymes at the moment, the works of Enna WHEELER WILCcox can easily be obtained at reasonable prices, and would have had some effect. Or why was not persuasive eloquence tried? Among the special constables of the division in which The Globe offices are situated are numbers of able barristers. Why were not their services employed ? And there is music. The message of music reaches the iheart even more swiftly than the spoken words of a barrister. Couldn’t the police band have gone round to the | office and played a few selections ? ‘‘Information now available indicates that M. Briand will become foreign minister as well as premier, with Jules Cambon, who was a Mr. Togery at the outbreak of the war, as his principal secretary.’’ Norfolk Ledger and Dispatch (U.S.A.). The correspondent who sends us the cutting kindly ex- plains it as follows:—* The cable as received, in describing M. CamBon, said he was ‘AMR TO GERY,’ which is, of course, Reuter’s abbreviation for ‘Ambassador to Germany.’ The | local editor, however, apparently thinking that the passing by the Censor of such a phrase was too good to be true, gave us the thrilling version set out above.”

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nans dis- tion rely act, In ions The (Sir itler the istic sion tur- e of et it *,or rely who her the fec- 1ers shat rely the rt— and ‘ied, and 10W sted Is ter- y to 2 to for ent, ned the lobe hy the f a the ome iS a ’ ). ex- ing rse, The ing ue, NoveMBER 17, 1915.] | OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

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AT THE FRONT. Our only consolaticn nowadays is to lcok with enjoyable contempt on troops who sometimes go into billets. For our part we hop round from one bit of line to another, making the para- pets sit up and planting forests of wire. The last Company Commander I took over from was more than com- monly proud because he had heightened his parapet two feet to stop dropping bullets. We went to have a look at it, and then, unfortunately, just as I was saying, ‘“ By Jove!” or “The way you chaps work beats me,” or some- thing sympathetic and suitable, I went and sneezed—and the top two feet fell in. We never really settled whether the fault lay with my sneeze or his parapet. At all! events we have now made} the latter sneeze-proof. One of those happy little | touches that make war so awfully jolly came along a few days ago. We had a Corporal of another branch the service “attached to us. At least he knew he was attached, but we didn’t. : Taking advantage of this. one-sided arrangement he invaded our mess kitchen at an early hour on the first morning of h's attachment and conveyed therefrom sundry edibles and utensils, most notably a glorious | brazier that is the object of our cook’s pride and affec- | of tion. When any especially large shells burst in his’ simmering soups—oras near | as makes no matter—his' brow clouds for a moment only, and then he looks at his brazier, and the thought of it brings back the sun- shine to his soul. Hence the loss of this trophy was no common bereave- ment. Our cuisine for twenty-four hours was damnable—we could have fed better in Soho. A_ search-pariy penetrated wherever it might and asked questions of the Corporal, who knew nothing about it. But he had counted without our cook’s pertinacity. The search was renewed next day; the Corporal’s dugout was entered in his absence and the brazier recaptured, The staff came to me clamouring for blood. I sent for the Corporal, who loudly protested his absolute innocence. I examined him, and just as I had ex- torted a complete confession a note arrived. It had originated in Corporal Blank, prisoner at the bar, and passed through Corporal Blank’s officer, through the Brigade, through our Ad- | PU} NCH, Miss KENSINGTON GORE and substituted: OR THE LONDON CHAR jutant. It consisted of a request ‘that our servants should supply Corporal Blank, attached, with wood and coke on demand. It is odd that your proper who should be a blunt man, soldier, hates calling a spade anything short of “shovels, g.s., 1.” His mind takes pleasure in figures and rejoices in cryptic initials. . Witness the attitude adopted by the military post-office to a letter addressed to the C.O. in terms of revolting clearness. The addresser, no doubt a civilian, had written on the envelope words such as_ these:— Lt.-Col. Thingummy, D.S.O. (that not our C.O.’s real name, nor is the remaining address an infringement of censorial rights),275th Infantry Brigade, is AS SHE WAS AND Is. 91st Division, 14th Army Corps, Sixth Army, British Expeditionary Force. As this was written without any abbreviations, the military postmen were naturally very much upset. days they kept the letter and pondered over it. They sent for consulting post- men from London, an X-ray apparatus from Paris, and four leading detectives from Scotland Yard. The conclusions thus arrived at were handed over to the had KitcHENER over for the week-end. Finally they faced the envelope fairly and squarely, and some leading man among them erased the original address “Try 275 I. B.” It only remains to tell that this wild shot in the dark succeeded, and the envelope, now treasured by the C.O., records the monumental sleuthiness of our soidier postmen in the most dis- couraging circumstances. For Ir. make up for the shortage of German [Nov EMBER 17, 1915. IV ARI. Of late \ we live in a marsh handed | over by a sister division as a trench | area. On our occupation the rain began | its winter session, and we ran up ayvainst a simple little bit of arithmetic ; “Tf two inches of rain per diem brings down one quarter of a company’s para- , pet, and one company, twenty-six hours per diem, can revet one-eighth of a company’s parapet, how long will your trenches last—given the additional premisses that no revetments to speak of are to be had, and that two inches of rain is only a minimum ration ? We have indented for a fleet; even a few auxiliary cruisers and some packets of torpedces would be better than nothing, which is what we have got so far. We are buoyed reflection that the Huns must be even worse off, as they are not in a position ;to mobilize their canal gar- rison, or spare any that remain of the U class. Functu; Officio. | | { | ‘*Mr. Grime withdraws from the Cleansing Committee.’’ | Manchester Guardian. ‘*There is confusion in the {minds of proprietors of Delika- | tessen shops as to when cold meat : may be cold.’’—Morning Paper. ‘The question leaves us in meat. : ‘ | «*CHAUFFEUR Wanted, | military age, for Tooting.”’ East Grinstead Observer. It sounds an easy - over ‘Paris, 2 novembre (controle). Le journal ‘Les Derniéres Nouvelles de Munich’ dit que l’ordre a été donné aux sous- marins allemands cde tenter le blocus des pores grecs.’’—Le Télégramme. I seticetsmenaiimeioven ‘‘There may have been another reason for the lack of that buoyancy which we usually associate with the Premier on a ‘pig occa- jsion’ like this.”—The Aberdeen Daily Journal. have done more justice to it. ‘« Every one should keep cheerful : frog can croak. * henloueey Week will begin with the Sermon, which will be preached by the Rev. ——., of Birmingham, on Thursday, April 13th, and will last until Thursday, April 20th, inclusive.’’ Congregational Magazine. Perhaps we ought to say that these two items, though appearing on the same page, Lave absolutely no connec- tion with one another. any old thus ¢ ‘Perhaps he felt that Mr. HoaGr would | intelligence branch at G.H.Q.’s, who! working about | and | the same condition as the

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unded | rench | began n up netic ; rings para- about revet , how n the nents t two mum and some etter have loyed y the Huns ff, as sition | gar- that from > an. 1 the elika- meat ‘aper. is in . the over é). } ‘s de sous- ; des | man n for nally occa- | ral. ould | y old the the day, day, ie. 1ese the 1ec- NoveMEER 17, 1915.) ’ J = tii \ b == ee OE Squadron Sergeant-Major (who has been told to EDUCATION AVE YOU ’AD?”’ Sergeant-Major. ‘‘ WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY ‘ PRETTY GOOD ascertain 9979 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. as SS yi) eee the qualifications of an applicant for a coniission). ‘* WHAT KIND OF AN ed l N\\ } Applicant. ‘* PreTry Goop.”’ | Applicant. ‘‘ WELL, YOU SEE, I’vE Got my B.A.”’ Sergeant-Major. ‘‘B.A.! NEVER ’EARD OF 1T. WHAT STANDARD ‘AVE YOU PASSED?”’ | , OUR BOOKING-OFFICE, (By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.) Or course you have not forgotten Dick, that wholly delightful study of school-boyhcod by Mr. G. F. Brappy. You will therefore be glad to hear that his author has now written more about him. Beware, however, of leaping to either of two conclusions, both wrong—first, that the new volume will be as amusing as its predecessor; secondly, that it will try to be so, and fail. One knows the old tag about sequels. In my own opinion the present Dick is not only entirely werthy of the earlier, but marks by far the highest level that Mr. Brappy has yet reached. Its title is | Yor This I Had Borne Him (Smirn, EvpDER), and the open- | ing date is July 22,1914. You seo now that this will be Dick with a difference, the great difference indeed that has fallen upon us all. It is exactly here that the very delicate art of the book is shown. It realizes, more poignantly than anything else I have read, the atmosphere of those terrible August days when the world was crumbling to pieces amid the pleasant preoccupations of holiday time. At first nothing seems changed. They are all back at Theresham for a lazy summer on the Broads: the diarist, his charming practical wife, Dick, grown to nineteen now with the delights of Oxford ahead, Betty the maid, old Grapes, and some equally pleasant new characters. Then comes the crisis, and at once there enters that strange feeling of un- reality that we all remember—a breathless hush in which, though laughter and the happy trivialities still persist, they ! - — —— ———— | | sound, as they did then, like the voices of birds in the | silence when a great thunderstorm is creeping swiftly up | the sky. So the comedy of Dick reaches the end that the title will have foretold you. In spite of it I hoped against hope that Mr. Brapsy might spare us the final sacrifice. | But its treatment, when it comes, raises the story to a fine | level of dignity and courage. It is not too much to think | that this little book will live long as a witness to the spirit | of England in her dark hour. If there exist a more artificial story than The Immortal | Gymnasts (HEINEMANN), by MARIE CHER, I have not read it, nor do I think that I want to. Something of the author's | fitness to tackle life and of her peculiar psychology will be conveyed by the statement that the two real heroes of the | book—one good and faithful, and the other not so good, with a roving eye—are named Varian and Ambry. Their Christian names, if you please. Ambry, having trifled with little Anie, forsakes her for her more dashing sister Hstelle, and by degrees Varian, who is a budding art critic and | only less beautiful to look at than Ambry, having placed | Anie with his mother (whose Christian name is Gita), to have her heart mended, takes Ambry’s place in that organ. There is no more story than that, but it is eked out by the parallel romance of Quin and Bina in the abode of Bina’s father Panta, who keeps a pet of a milk-shop in a London street. Have you guessed who they are? Quinis Harle- quin, Bina Columbine, and Panta Panta!oon, now in retire- ment, but busy with mere mortals’ love troubles! It is all

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and eating lobster and cucumber salad. 420 PUNCH, OR THE L ONDON CHARIVARI. [NovemBer 17, 1915. like a phantasmagoric dream after seeing ScHUMANN’s Carnival given by the Russian ballet, reading metaphysics, There is clever writing in the book, but it is wasted. 7 Anthony Sorel, the juvenile lead of Mr. E. Trempie | THuRSTON’s latest novel, The Passionate Crime (CHAPMAN AND Hatx)—I call him that because in his dedication Mr. Tuurston distinctly threatens a dramatization of the | story—was a wild, romantic poet who lived all alone on | ‘THURSTON in the capacity of | with | Mr. Taurston had in extract- | ing the facts in the case from the Irish hills, and in at least one of his poems made “dawn” rhyme with “morn.” It was not for this, how- _ ever, that he was sentenced to death and hanged, though I | have no doubt that it carried a good deal of weight with / women) are sure to consider a the jury, but because he always amusing, were also too voluble. But this would not be a fair criticism to make of his romance of the Cornish slate-quarries. From beginning to end the interest is concentrated upon two points: first, the slate-quarry itself, which throbs with life as vividly as any human being, and, secondly, upon the love-story of two fine men for one woman. To the last moment the doubt as to which of these men is to marry Edith Re'a!lack is kept up, and legitimately kept up; but unfortunately this long suspense gives us time to discover that she was not quite worthy of either of them. Old Delabole, both in grasp of plot and manner cf telling, is Mr. Paituports at his best; but all the same I must pick one little bone with him. Long experience of Cornwall has convinced me that it would be impossible for any murdered Anna Quartermaine. She was a great lady living in the neighbourhood, and she visited him in his hut one night disguised as a peasant- girl. He mistook her for a fairy, and when he discovered appropriately enough in what he would call the dorn —that she was not he stabbed her with the bread-knife. If this seems a flippant summing- up of what thousands of men and women (but principally “beautiful” story I can only say in self-defence that genu- ine beauty in a story has never yet made me feel flip- pant. It may be that the monotony of the first part of the book prejudiced me against the second, where the story really begins. I resented the persistent intrusion of Mr. showman. The first hundred- and-ten pages deal exclusively the difficulty which a series of uncommunicative peasants, and might have HAPPY & SATISFIED. ARE YOU ¢ young man, however secretive, to “ walk out ” with any young woman, however artful, for a few days—let alone weeks— without every other soul in the village knowing all about it. Perhaps you are already familiar with the name of Miss Carotyn Wetis—if you are an American you certainly know her, and know that, besides being the author of various popular stories about murders and detectives, she is that much rarer thing, a student and anthologist of humour, with moreover a very flattering regard for the English variety. Naturally, therefore, one approaches her latest story, The White Alley (Lippincott), in a spirit of comradeship. It concerns a further adventure of Miss WELLS's pet creation, the de- tective Fleming Stone, one of those super-deductors who are so pleasant to read about but would be so exasperating to employ in real life. The problem of the tale is ingeni- ous enough. The owner of an been condensed into a preface, reading, ‘I had the deuce of a job getting this story out of the fellows who had first-hand information.” I am_ perfectly well aware that these hundred-and-ten pages establish atmesphere, but to my mind they are as great an offence to a novel-reader as an hour’s lecture on the manners and custom; of the Irish peasantry, deliverel by Mr. Txursron in front of the curtain before the first Act, would be to the audience which assembles to see The Passionate Crime when it is produced as a play. After reading Old Delabole (HEINEMANN) my conscience | compels me to apologise to Mr. Epen Puiiirorrs for having once asked him to give the West Country a rest. Here, it is true, he has left Devonshire, but only to make a small jump, which has landed him most happily upon his feet, to the other side of the Tamar. It was, I think, a fair criticism to pass upon some of Mr. Putiirorts’ later work that the by-play was apt to overbalance or, at any rate, to intevfere with, the main story. His natives, if WITH APOLOGIES TO THE WaR OFFICE POSTER. estate, so carefully encom- passed by watchmen and elec- tric alarms that no one could enter or leave it unobserved, suddenly vanishes. Perhaps you think that The White Alley will prove to be some secret subway to the house of mystery. Far from it. The Alley in question is a kind of marble such as is played with by boys, and a specimen of it is found in a disused cellar close to the corpse of the murdered protagonist. Puzzle, to make the marble explain the corpse. Having paid my tribute to the iu- 'genuity of the task and its solution, I wish I could add |that the style in which the book is written is worthy of my regard for its author’s nice discrimination in other matters. But the fact is that these murder-mysteries are levellers of style; with their formula of clues and inquests and examina- tions they tend so much to common form that there is scarce a writer who can endow them with distinction. |This consideration apart, The White Alley remains an ‘excellent example of its kind, from whose bewilderments, if you like these mysteries, you may derive a very pleasant ;and expectant afternoon.

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ld he st ry an en to pt ng ite sp uti | ne 1i- wn n- c- te of id on of le November 24, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. CHARIVARIA. Fretp-MarsHAL VON MACKENSEN is reported to have told Kina FERDINAND | that the booty captured by the Ger- mans in Serbia will be handed over to! the Bulgarians. This confirms the belief that the Serbians left little of value behind them. —o. | | A London borough council has de- | cided that rate-collectors are “ indis- | pensables ’ and cannot be allowed to enlist. This unpatriotic decision has deeply grieved a large section of the ratepayers. * * “ Popping,” as a synonym for pawn- ing, is a phrase no longer heard in the best East-end circles. They speak now of “ mobilising securities.” Omnibuses and tramears are so dimly lighted now that conductors farthings for sixpences in payment for their fares. The same mistake would no doubt have occurred just as fre- most of them been out of circulation. * A London coroner states that when walking in the darkened always carries a white newspaper to prevent people bumping into him. Unfortunately he omitted to advertise never have missed this chance. As official statistics have been pro- Vorwirts should think it necessary to print particulars of the symptoms by which starvation can be recognised. morbid interest in rare diseases. An ex-soldier has enlisted at the age of 78, and Sir ArtHuR Mark- HAM is understood to be preparing a protest against the enrolment of re- cruits in their second childhood. Several correspondents have called our attention to a statement in The Spectator that “ to hunt with the hare and run with the hounds must always prove a failure,” and seem to think that there is something wrong in it We have, however, such a high regard on natural history that we unhesitat- ingly accept its dictum. ° *. ’ . In an article on “The Public Schools” The Morning Post spoke complain that people frequently tender | quently with half-sovereigns had not | streets he| the particular organ he prefers for this | purpose. The Lorp CHANCELLOR would | | duced showing that there is no shortage | of food in Germany, it is odd that the Some of its readers, we suppose, take a for our contemporary as an authority | recently of ‘The medieval tradition of | “ carpet-knight”’ is now defunct. Farmer. ‘‘ STILL ON HOME SERVICE, THEN?”’ Yeoman (indignantly). ‘* Wuy, OF COURSE.”’ VOLUNTEER ’ Yeoman, ‘‘ YEs.’ Farmer. ‘‘ SUPPOSING THE GERMANS CAME TO ENGLAND, WHAT WOULD YoU DO?”’ FOR FOREIGN SERVICE AT ONCE, service and self-sacrifice, plain living and high thinking, discipline and de- votion, which produced Thomas a Kempis, Sir Thomas More, and Sir} Philip Sidney, to name only these flowers of English spirituality.” Some- how we find it difficult to think of the first of these worthies as quite English, although he certainly made a splendid Imitation. “~““ The War is working havoc with our metaphorical expressions. A sergeant- major who has just been awarded the D.C.M. for bravery at Loos was a/| carpet-salesman before he joined his} regiment. As a term of derision) Dr. DuGatp CueRK, F.R.S., has ex- plained that Germany’s failure is due to the fact that her philosophers have | invariably been of the deductive type. | The deductive brain, he added, allied to stupidity and a curious irrelevance, was characteristically German, and often produced absurd results. A certain statesman’s “spiritual home,” we under- stand, is now to let, unfurnished. * x Commenting upon the popular demonstrations in Athens on the arrival of M. Denys Cocatn, a French paper remarked that Kine ConsTanTINE “has just heard the voice of his people.” Prior to this, of course, it was simply 'so much Greek to him. VOL. CXLIX. Y

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422 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [NovemBer 24, 1915, TRENCH-HUMOUR MADE IN GERMANY. ‘* Fas est et ab hoste doceri.”’ [‘‘ There is in England no real soldiers’ humour such as we have.”’ Cologne Gazette.) Wuat badinage is this that rocks the trenches, What jeu a. esprit or military jest That strains the Bosch’s ribs, and rudely wrenches The quivering fabric of his lower chest ? What is this note of mirth whose echoes tingling Through barracks where the lager runs in ‘spate Bring down the roof and set the beer- mugs jingling ? It is the humour of the “Hymn of Hate!” Full of elusive fun and swift surprises, In every jocund phrase and joyous fitte This gay and sparkling anthem crystallises The essence and the soul of German wit. We've nothing like it. In the dull stagnation Induced by British humour’s sad decline, Thomas, relying on a loose translation, Sings it (allegro) all along the line. Thanks to a nature singularly plastic, Blent with a humble willingness to learn, He soon assimilates the light fantastic Touch of the Teuton’s favourite comic turn. Thus pluck we wrinkles of the foe’s imparting ; He taught us gas-work in our guileless past ; And so with humour—though behind at starting, We still may smile the loudest at the last. THE NAVY IN A NUTSHELL. (With acknowledgments to Mr. A. H. Potten in “ Land and Water.’’) THERE have been no purely naval activities this week | that require comment, but I have none the less matter of | the greatest moment to discuss. For I regret to say that my critics have been throwing doubt upon some of my con- clusions. That is a question which I must go into at once and in detail. Not that I wish to hold myself above criticism ; 1 know very well that any one who has reached a pinnacle as a Naval Expert must be prepared for it. But, holding as I do that the views that I put forth in this journal are of national importance, I cannot allow them to be assailed. One of my critics, writing in the Press, has—I deeply regret | to say—brought to light an old story against me which | I had hoped was safely dead and buried. It worries me: now that the cat is out of the bag it worries me confoundedly. He declares that I am not a sailor. Well, I must face it. It is true, 1 am not. It is not, strictly speaking, my fault. I trust the public will not jump to the conclusion that it was either my fault or my parents’. In any case, deeply as I deplore it, it is now too late to do anything. I le awake at night and think about it. I would give almost anything—except my position on this journal—to be a sailor. But my laicism is chronic. All the same, though I am not a professional, I am) not to be branded as an amateur. I am thoroughly well grounded; I have got the thing up; I do know my subject. And I may add in self-defence that I have been entertained —in peace time—more than once on board a battleship. I could call plenty of witnesses to show that the Navy has always been my special hobby. I have quite a passion for calibres and displacements and things, and have had ever since I was at school. There is no deception about it. I can only hope therefore that the public will receive the shock of my laicism without flinching. Another critic draws attention to a passage in which I stated that the Navy will be perfectly satisfied as long as the German Fleet remains lurking in Kiel. The bare sug- gestion of what my words have implied, according to his reading of them, has made my hair stand on edge and set my teeth onend. The idea that I could have imputed to Sir Joun JELLICOE’s command the slightest satisfaction at not meeting the foe would be absurd enough to any one who knew me and my sentiments, but my words would seem to have carried this construction to the critic in question, who goes so far as to attribute it to my laicism. No one knows better than I the high spirit of the Sure Shield. I have often commended it in these columns. All that I meant to imply—and I must apologise pro- foundly for the ambiguity—was that, as long as the German High Seas Fleet refused an engagement, the British Navy was doing all itcould. I feel confident that my words were not misunderstood in the wardrooms of the Fleet. I have decided on this occasion to hold over my usual weekly prediction that America will declare war upon Germany within the next few days. I hope to be in a position to revive this feature in our next number, but something depends upon the ineffably illogical BERNsTorRFF. I have been fortunate enough to receive a large number of delightful letters from charming people in relation to my quaint account of the sinking of the Kénigsherg. That is no great surprise to me as I felt certain that it was bound to please. The consensus of opinion, both in my corre- spondence and in the Service Clubs, seems to be that my gunnery deductions were correct. If there is no further news from the Adriatic, the gean, the Baltic or the Black Sea, I shall hope to return next week (which I shall do very gladly) to my little quadrilateral diagrams of the Submarine “ blockade.” One of my fore- most critics, surely in a fault-finding mood (even I cannot satisfy everyone), has been making merry at the expense of these poor diagrams of mine and has asserted that the figure three conveys its meaning quite as directly as three little squares neatly drawn one above another. I know very well that my readers will not agree with him. An article of this kind cannot exist without diagrams—that much I have learned from a study cf the work of my dis- tinguished military colleague upon this journal. They break up the page and give the thing an appearance of diversity, besides tending to excite curiosity in the reader. | Nothing could be more effective than my diagrams. If you want to know how many ships have been lost you have only to count the squares, pricking them off as you go along with a pin. It is just on such points as these that I hope I am of service to my readers, who have perhaps less time and ingenuity than I have, by collating the newspaper reports and expressing them diagramatically.» The thing can also be done even more satisfactorily with a box of bricks. That is how I do it at home—if I may give away a personal secret. I have the whole thing built up on the smoking-room mantelpiece, with coloured bricks for the Atlantic liners. Not a bad idea for a layman. And while I am on this question I may add that the effect of searchlights upon Zeppelins—as a guide to gunnery —may be usefully tested by working in a dark room with a suspended banana and an electric torch. The Point of View. ‘*A hind, named Harker, in the service of Mr. J. J. Crusher, of Hutton, who was in ch: urge of a horse at the time, had his leg acci- dentally broken on F riday. Mr. Crusher has had a singular run of ill-luck with his hinds.’’—Teesdale Mercury.

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915,

| PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAI ==

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CHURCHILL S’EN VA-T-EN GUERRE. | Wixston (through force of nautical habit, to Sir Joun

Frencu). “COME ABOARD, SIR!” ec

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NoveMBER 24, 1915.) Lady Sybil de Vere. ‘‘Do LOOK AT THOSE EXTRAORDINARY PEOPLE. Sir Hugo. ‘‘RorreN BAD FORM!”’ MY WORKING-PARTY. “Tr’s sickening,” said Margery ; “mother’s going to the Buftingtons and says I must go with her.” “ Buck up!” L urged with the callous after-lunch indifference of the middle- aged ; ‘‘ the Buffies aren’t so bad.” “They're beastly. And Sheila’s bik- ing over this afternoon too. We mend the Convalescents’ socks on Mondays. You'll have to look after her till I come back.” The door banged violently and I was alone. The worst of a youthful sister is that she takes so much for granted. Sheila is a fashionable and deter- mined young person who gracefully combines the youthfulness of sixteen with the sagacity of a dowager. I am really afraid of her. At 3.30 the door was flung open. “ Hullo!” exclaimed a brisk voice. I smiled foolishly. | ‘Let me put your bag down.” “No, thank you. This,” she swung | it defiantly, “is my work.” | “Oh,” Il answered humbly, “irregular verbs or arithmetic ? ”’ | I gave her the chair on the other side of the hearthrug and watched her wrench forth the contents of the bag. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. N WS WAR ECONOMY. w OW UP >. “N ' SS AS SS Ss ADatus luts 91s THEIR CLOTHES ARE QUITE NEW!”’ It seemed to hold a good deal. I made a remark about it. “What are you doing soldiers ?”’ she asked loftily. “Well, er I began, overcome by the suddenness of the attack. “1 write a—er—little cheque sometimes, and,” I added hastily, “ I was a special constable once.” “Can you darn?” a strained interval. “Yes,” I answered simply ; “ I won the Balliol Blue-stocking twice when I was up at Oxford.” ‘Then perhaps,” she said graciously, “you would like to help.” I started on a pale pair and all went well until - “Mind the blood doesn’t stain,” she remarked. “A little bit gay for the Line, aren't they?” I picked up a_purple-and- magenta mixture. ‘This chap ’s prob- ably a Surbiton Hussar.” Sheila examined some of my work. “T say, are you quite sure you won that stocking for darning ?”’ “Quite,” IL answered promptly. ‘Give me a tube of magenta, please.” When Margery got back we had finished tea and I had mended seyen at least I had pushed for the she inquired after pairs of socks the needle about inside them until the holes got smaller. That night I went to bed feeling I had done my bit. The next evening Margery dashed in late for dinner. “I’ve been to see Sheila,” she an- nounced briefly, and, turning to me, added, “I say, old thing, you've made a pretty beastly mess of young Henry’s | socks. I don’t know what he'll say when he comes back from school. He's rather particular about his socks.” ‘His socks,” I repeated vaguely “ Henry’s socks?” “Yes; they forgot to send the soldiers’ mending from Broadmead yesterday, so Sheila was told to darn her brother's socks instead.” Extract from the advertisement of a well-known firm of poultry fanciers : ‘* This is where the value of their first-rate laying strains tell. They produce eggs in large numbers right through the bad weather, and that their customers do this also is proved by the many hundreds of letters —— & Sons receive monthly.’’ We congratulate Messrs. - & Sons on the excellence of their birds, but still! more on that of their customers, who, if they possess the remarkable powers attributed to them, are indeed rare aves.

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| of her waking hours filling up forms) uses this ‘ouse and he’s a wottler | about torn pi yllow-eases and broken | spouse—tells _I am not surprised at their heroism. | room she is a little timid in | would break and flee. | she said, and I felt that the elements | | would obey. evening. en 426 _ PUNCH, OR THE | The Merry W idow ’ ? Will you please | stop it at once?” Automaticaily obedient I walked to- That may mean nothing to) wards the hotei. I found an electric you, but if you read Miss Munc ASTER’S | ‘piano in full blast. I removed my book on Quartermasters which ELKiN | armlet and ordered a beverage—not | Maruews has published you will find | from thirst but from diplomacy -and | that KivcHEser has a light and easy | appealed to the landlord. job compared with a Quartermaster. | “Is that to be kept going all night ?’ In actual fact a Quartermaster is re- I asked. “It gets on the nerves ‘of the sponsible for the stores in a Red Cross | matron of the Red Cross Hospital.” Hospital and spends the greater portion| “Well, Mister, Councillor Stubbs if THE WOTTLER AND THE MATRON. I am the husband of a Quarter- | master. | ever there was one.” “A what?” * A wottler—a chap ’oo says, ‘ Wot ‘ll you ‘ave?’ He’s not amineser; mine- The Quartermistress—I de- have a Quartermaster as | me wonderful stories | plates. cline to about the appetites of wounded heroes | sers are them ’oo always say, ‘ Mine’s and the quantity of rice they consume.|a_ beer.’ up?” Where was you brought A man who dare face rice > pudding need dread nothing | in this world. At night, when I leave my special constable duty, I call for the Quartermistress toescort her home. Though a veritable dragen in a store- | the dark. Then, as I am badged and armleted, that great person, the hospital | matron, condescends to ex- | change a word orso with me. She is a magnificent person, | and as she sweeps down on me in her official uniform I feel absolutely confident about the War. Nothing) 7 — ; 5 ote could beat her. Ifshe could | HIS ROOF THE OPEN SKY. | Clergyman. | THE COUNTRYSIDE AND SLEEPING UNDER HEDGES, | ACT LIKE A MAN AND GO OUT AND FIGHT FOR YOUR HEA be marched along the Brit- ish lines I know the Bosches | Still I am nervous when she speaks ‘“ Well, what about Councillor to me. It is like talking to a Zep-, Stubbs?” pelin. | “You see ‘is son was reported On this night she bore down on me. | wounded and missing, and now he’s “We shall have rain to-morrow,” only reported wounded and not badly | ‘urt. So Mr. Stubbs wanted to stand drinks to all in the ‘ouse; but this new regulation “What’s this got to do with the piano?” I interrupted. “ Well, he’s left money for a cigar for every customer, and he’s paid for the electric piano to be kept going all night. | Left five bob in coppers to be put in “You have noticed an hotel oppo- site ?’’ continued the matron. “Isthere one?” I murmured. Guilty man that I was, I had often taken refuge init when the Quartermistress had not finished form-filling and stock-taking and I had dreaded waiting for her under the matron’s severe eye. the slot. Now I’m anxious to oblige “Yes. Listen to that,” said the a lady, but I promised to oblige Mr. matron, Stubbs. He’s a wottler if ever there was one. It’ll take all night to work | ‘is money off.” all the' I returned to the hospital in fear and trembling. “The piano will cease playing directly There was a sound of revelry from across the way. “That has been continuing It must cease.” “Do the wounded object?” I in- quired timidly. ithe money that has been put down “They do not. Many of them mani-|for it is exhausted,” I reportéd diplo- fest a spirit of reprehensible frivolity in | matically. | war-time. I object. Is this a time for! “I have always found that any in- LONDON _CH ARIVARI. ‘‘INSTEAD OF SPENDING YOUR LIFE WANDERING ABOUT WHY CANNOT YOU ‘TH AND HOME ?”’ _— 24, 1916. structions T give toa special ae are promptly attended to,” beamed the matron. The next day, as I passed the hotel, the landlord stood at the door. “She come,” he said, nodding to- wards the hospital. “What did she say?” "| eagerly. “A lot,” returned the landlord. | . Er—anything about me?” “ She said that if I wouldn’t take no notice of a special—and she didn’t | blame me, as they was such a poor lot—I'd got to take notice of ’er. Yes, I stopped the piano. I told her that Mr. Stubbs was a true wottler, but she said that it was wottling that was losing us this War. She ain’t got what I call | the wottling spirit. A fine figure of a ~~ | woman if you like, but no I asked |wottler. I don't expect | ‘she ever stood no one a| pint.” Now I wait for the Quar- | | termistress in the road. ‘Such manners may have | been current last year—avant la guerre. But now vons avous change tout cela.”’ Indian Daily Telegraph. Yes, the “vons” have changed a great many | things. Even the French language has not escaped. | «The Nairobi Defence Force | will rendezvous on C. Company | Parade Ground, byterian Church, at 5 o'clock | | this afternoon. The new unit | will for the first time be re- | Spected by His Excellency the __'Governor and Commander in | Chief. "Daily Leader (British East Africa). Our own “G.R.’s” should take com- | fort; their turn of deferential appre- ciation will come. near the Pres- ‘* Bleachers and dyers in various towns in | Lancashire yesterday began handing in notices to leave work in order to enforce their claim to an advance of wages between two and three , shillings a week in the case of weekly wage- earners, and 10 per cent. in the case of peace- workers.’’—Scotsman. Why this differentiation ? none of them war-workers. They are ‘* New Cumnock School Board. Wanted by the above named School Board, a female | certificated assistant teacher. Salary, £65 per annum, rising by annual increments of £5 to £95 if untrained, and to £1000 if trained.’’ Glasgow Herald. A good chance for intending Methuselah. an ‘** People who desire longevity drink water. Those who have tried it and failed should try Beer.’’—Japanese advertisement. As sold in the Elysian Fields. —

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15. stable | x1 the | hotel, 2 to- | asked ke no | lidn’t | poor Yes, - that it she | osing I call of a ut no xpect | me a Quar- l. have ant la avous | aph. have | nany rench | ped. Force npany Pres- clock y unit xe re- 1v the | er in rica). com- ppre- rns in otices claim three wage- peace- y are | ‘anted | emale | 65 per | £5 to | ge | ald. | ° | iding | water. ld try NovEMBER 24, 19135.] PUNCH, OR THE cB MALENTENDU CORDIAL. THE alliance with France in our suburb is imperi!led— nay more, it is all but suspended. The regrettable in- cident only shows how a mere choice of words, spoken without a suspicion of malice or evil intent, may in a single infelicitous moment undo the loving labour of years. It happened in this way. In our suburb we are nothing if not original, so it occurred to us to give a concert in aid of the Belgian Relief Fund. The clow of the entertainment promised to be the performance of a French lady vocalist, a refugee, who had been a professional. The eventful night arrived. Each artist was introduced by our curate, who constituted himself a kind of articulate programme, and then the French lady’s turn came. Now I am quite sure that the curate, a most earnest-minded young man, was guiltless of any intention of facetiousness in his introduction of Madame Chambellan ; he was incap- able of it. Yet before she had started to sing the aria, “ Mon ceur s’ouvre ad ta voir,” the audience broke into delighted laughter, and continued to give vent to subdued giggles during the first few bars of the song. Gradually, however, it dawned on them that no humour was intended, whereupon their attitude became, and remained to the end, one of half-aggrieved bewilderment, as of people who have been unwarrantably deceived. Madame came off the platform in high dudgeon, declar- ing she had never been so insulted in her life and that “ces Anglais” were still the rudest, the most stupid and the most perfidious people in the world. For how should she, poor lady, ignorant of “ Sister Susie Sewing Shirts for Soldiers,” appreciate the fact that her auditors had been LONDON CHARIVARI. 427 CTT ATT Puny but pugnacious Recruit. ‘‘I BET IT WON'T BE FOR THE WANT O’ TRYIN’. WHERE Is ’E?”’ | \ Las 4 Y ) i , NX (NI SS \ led to expect a French variant of that popular ditty by the curate’s announcement, expressed in the following terms: “Madame Chambellan will now sing a chanson from Samson, by Satnt-Saéns”’? TWENTY-TWO. TWENTY-TWO At the end of the week, if he’d seen it through. We left his grave in the curé’s hands; I met him as I was coming away— A white-haired man in cassock and bands— And I showed him where it lay. “ Twenty-two— Yet he’s older than you or me, M’sieu, And the riddle of time for him is read. Yes, I will see the grave kept trim, And after the prayers for our own are said I will add a prayer for him.” Twenty-two— Someone will bitterly weep for you ; Yet she'll lift her head with a wonderful pride: “ He was my son, and his life he gave. Shall I grudge such a gift, tho’ my heart has died ? He was brave: I must be brave.” Twenty-two— Ah! for the dreams that can never come true: All that the world should have had in store! He was willing to die, though he loved to live. We must be ready to follow—the more That we ve many less years to give.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIV. ARI. [NoveMBER 24, 1915, THE WATCH DOGS. XXIX. My pear CHares,—I may not be in a position at the moment to give you information at first hand from our own trenches, but I can give you the next best thing—life stories of great soldiers from the opposite trenches. I don’t recollect his name (Fritz as likely as not), but, whatever he might call himself, it was just fifteen months ago when he suddenly realized the in- tensity of his belief in himself and everything German, and his scorn of all _ other nationalities, temporarily except- | ing certain possibles in the Near East. | A passion for war came over him; battles and bloodshed, he discovered, were things which appealed irresistibly to his fair godlike Teuton manhood. His newspaper told him what a fine fellow he was and what a warlike | nature was his; when he came to think | of it, he saw how true this all was, especially the part about being godlike. He itched for War, for which, it ap- | peared, he was already scheduled, and his first experience of the horrors of it | did nothing to change his mind. He | came undaunted and unscathed through a period at a training centre in the | interior, a period of garrison-duty in _ occupied Belgium, and even more stren- | train approached the Western front ;| yours, Charles. he was asleep at the time, but his| holiday beginning woke him up. His first treat was a great spectacular bomb-dropping turn bya French airman. For this he was in the front row seats, so to speak: long after it was all over | he laboured under the impression that | he had been the target instead of the| privileged audience. He said he really should want some months of repose after that, and was told that he would get it sure enough if he wouldn’t just mind helping to restore so much of the | train as could be found to so much of the line as was left. He took them at | These airy fellows talk of war as if it were a day’s shooting and they the cock pheasants with the best of the fun up aloft. Upon my word, the hen who hatched such birds should be a proud, if anxious, mother ! Other people quite well worth meet- ing are our French Allies. I see a lot of them these days, and it won’t be long before we are exchanging kisses. The old Chief of the French side of my business rolled up the other day. I and my particular ally saluted accord- ing to our several ideas of preud humility. He waved all that sort of thing aside, gave us a hand each to | shell and got rid of the “ practically.” ‘deal besides), their word, as became a well-disciplined | hold, called us his infants, his brave Teuton, but he couldn’t help being | infants, his very brave ififants, and we puzzled when he remembered their | concluded the parade by shedding a | earlier statements that the Allies had | few tears of affection and joy together, practically no ammunition left, what| still holding hands. To-day I have with English strikes and French revo-| with some pains composed and written lutions and German submarines and | out orders for our new French depart- suchlike. However, he and his fellow-| ment, “signed by Henry, Lieut., for travellers, who were in the same case, | Lieut.-Col. Commanding,” which con- thought perhaps that this was the last | | cluded as follows :— In end of account, _you will you remind that, the responsi- But the English airman who was next | ' bility of the French Service of what- featured upset that argument (andagood | you-may-call in this Army being to giving them, in another | you, Mister the Colonel will well wish bomb or two, what you might call the “ All change here”’ chit. Our holiday- maker concluded his journey on foot, but even his country stroll somewhere uous soldiering i in a side-show on the in France did not lack movement, being Eastern front, where, with nothing | enlivened by the Crump family, in their more than a dozen or so heavy siege | side-splitting entertainment presented batteries and at most a gross of field | by our gunners. guns behind him, he had to keep his| Twice detrained from above, much | end up against hundreds of dangerously | harassed by public nuisances of all | angry peasants, armed with real sticks | sorts on the level, and lastly, even while and stones. unpacking his valise in his dug-out, _ two and come down to a soft job in the | affection for us that he must needs run _ West. They reminded him that he had | across the open that very night in order the new area where the enemy hadn't | affairs. _ he suggested, if the enemy was as done | his lot with ours. | half-hearted violence in their last dying | | spasm; all his friends whom he saw en route lately. He not only held out, he liked hold- | rudely shaken from beneath, this ardent ing out, and he was quite annoyed when |enemy of ours lost first his ardour, he was told to give over for a day or ‘then his enmity, and conceived such an shown himself to be a finer fellow even | to be, as he now is, among us. than originally supposed, and at lasthe| By the way, you'll take a morbid came to see that, even if things were | pleasure in hearing that he quite agrees | to be easier and less worthy of him in| with your view as to the trend of | We are being thoroughly | any sticks or any stones and had been | beaten on all sides ; the Central Powers | strafed into an abject inertia, he had | win all the way. He has this in writ- had a hard time and deserved a period | ing from the people who are doing it. of rest and quiet. It would be hardly | We asked him, if this was so, why worth while taking his rifle with him,| he was in such a hurry to throw in But we had asked inasallthat. ‘ Perhaps you'd better,” | him such a lot of questions by that they told him. “It is just possible the | time that one can quite understand his French and English may attempt some | answer being a little confused. This Fritz is not the only interesting ” and so he entrained, and told| person I’ve come in touch with just that he would write them long letters|Corps people not wholly depressing. from his new quarters, where he ex-| On occasion I borrow off them a gallon pected to be very quiet and have a lot | of petrol to see me home: the pleasure of time on his hands. is theirs, they say ; the honour is mine, I have found the Royal Flying | His ie betiny began in earnest as his | I geotent ; the petrol is, of course, if Sister is driving. to have all the confidence in you, he will count on you and he will you reinforce altogether and all at once if you you find in the embarrassment of the undiscipline.” Our idea of our ally as a soldier is that his élan and gay courage are very much more remarkable even than supposed ; but for the dull heavy work of continued warfare there is wanted, if we may say so without offence, the more stolid | qualities of the English. On the other | hand the French opinion of their ally as | a soldier is that his dash and devilment | are really astonishing, even to the most expectant critic; but for the sordid | monotonous strain of this trench busi- | ness it needs (a thousand pardons!) | the duller persistence of the French. Yours ever, Henry. ‘*NO FAT’ GRIEVANCES. PLENTY TO COME FROM TURKEY AND GREECE. Morning Paper. ” | | | We have added this to our collection of | “Glimpses of the Obvious.” ‘*Two mounted the eiiity and the skirt | of the pipers was audible above the crash of bombs.’’—Egyptian Gazette. The tartan must have been of 2 pecu- liarly loud pattern. An advertisement :— ‘** DODGE BROTHERS MOTOR CAR.” Morning Paper. We always do so if we can, particularly | ! |

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ne d- id to ve ve r, ve | t- or n- s1- | - about that last raid ? NoveMBER 24, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. | THE HERO OF THE HOUR. | As it was my first time home on leave from the Front, I had expected that my tales of battles would create a certain amount of interest amongst my friends and relations. My haversack was filled with German buttons, pieces of shrapnel, shell fuses and other in-| struments of torture, picked up on the stricken field or bought in French shops, and my tongue was eager to be telling of hair-breadth escapes. My arrival in Hampstead certainly caused a little interest. My parents were glad to see me safe and sound. My sisters, so they said, were proud of me. My aunt, who believes that every- one should be sent to the Front the day he enlists, and kept there until he is killed, wished to know when I was going back. I obliged her with the date, and we sat down to dinner. They asked me how I liked it, and I started on the tales. They listened in polite silence to what I had got to| say. Somehow the souvenirs in my haversack began to lose their value, and I decided that they had better stay where they were till a more favourable opportunity for exhibiting them pre- sented itself. I turned the conversa- tion from wars and rumours of victories | to the latest theatres. They were not interested, and by the time we reached the coffee I had decided that they pre- | ferred to talk rather than listen. Had I seen a Zeppelin? Did I hear Would I like to see the piece of bomb that the house- maid’s young man had found, and the housemaid had presented to the family in recognition of an extra half-day out ? Was I talking of going to a theatre, | and didn’t I knew that a London theatre was the most dangerous spot in the world ? | This conversation, in its turn, bored me to distraction, for I was one of the lucky two hundred of my battalion to emerge undamaged from the last scrap. But it showed me that to produce my relics of the field was to invite indiffer- ence and a further half-hour of Zep- pelin anecdotes, so I pleaded acute fatigue and went to bed. Next day we talked of Zeppelins and their frightfulness from breakfast to teatime. Then, as I found myself the | least important member of the family, | I sought out a male friend and together | we went to Shell Out. Luck was | with me, for they came. I heard them | whirring in the distance and I saw search-lights playing on the sky. I never saw the smallest trace of a Zepp., | and I didn’t care to, for my object was achieved, and I returned to Hampstead | happy and uplifted. i SS be WOT RAN a ee | MB WN ‘* Don’? you THINK I SHOULD LOOK RATHER A FOOL IN UNIFORM?’ ‘* WELL, OF COURSE, MY DEAR FELLOW, IT ISN’T MUCH OF A DISGUISE.”’ | They were all in the cellar when I let myself in quietly and stole upstairs to my room. There I rubbed some earth from a pot of chrysanthemums on my clothes and some dust from the mantel-piece on my face. I dragged my tie sideways, I ruffled my hair, and I filled my pockets with my souvenirs from the Front. Then I crept down. stairs, opened and closed the front door noisily, and clattered down into the cellar. “Did you see them?” exclaimed my eldest sister. “They came right over——”’ “See them?” I interrupted, for my time had come. falling all round me, and one exploded iso near that it blew me ten yards up “Why, bombs were | the road! Look at the state I’m in! The shrapnel was bursting all over the place! And two German officers fell out and landed in the middle of the | street within five yards of me! I took | some souvenirs off them. Look at all the things I’ve collected.” I produced several pieces of shrapnel, a shell nose, four German buttons, two German badges, and the remainder of the assortment. The family looked | at me in awed admiration. I was the hero of the hour. An Irishman’s Rise. ‘“‘The news that Major —— has been pro- moted to the rank of Captain was received with much pleasure by his host of friends."’ Free Press (Wexford).

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [NoveMBeER 24, 1915. First Lady. ‘‘I pon’? KNOW WHAT WE WANT A CENSOR FOR. Look AT THE PRICE OF LUMP SUGAR!”’ Second Lady. ‘‘ WELL, I DON’? WONDER. YIELD My) } iwi Hii! ff} HE DOESN’T SEEM TO PLEASE ANYBODY.”’ THE PARALYSIS OF THE TENTH PLATOON. (A Tragedy of T Srout miners all, their ardour knew no check While forth we fared upon our warward way ; They wrote long letters from the ship’s safe deck, Behind the boom of some Aigean Bay (Breathing the hot inflammatory soul Which comes, it seems, from always carving coal), Of how they heard the hideous cannon’s roll, And many a vivid but invented fray. And when we sought the catacombs of strife The lust for slaughter yet illumed their eyes ; On the way up they nearly took the life Of two black braves from Afric (our Allies) ; They longed to leap from out the sandbag’s screcn, And in close combat satisfy their spleen ; While I, who, truth to tell, was not so keen, Hardly persuaded them it was not wise. The slow days travelled, and no blood was drawn, Yet long their hearts were lionlike and large, For oft we woke them, on the cool still dawn, To arm and hasten to the battle’s marge, And braced them up for some tremendous bout, And when, of course, the General washed it out, We said to-morrow would supply, no doubt, Their fearful wish to make (or break) a charge. ‘rench Warfare.) Then, like a terriér too often spurred | To “seek” the quite imaginary rat, | Darting, all eager, at the lying word With busy sniffs where never a rodent sat, | Till a vile doubt affects the brute with gall, That it may be there are no rats at all, And heedless now_he hears his master’s call, And sits and wonders what he’s getting at— A dark distrust encompassed my platoon ; Bored and incredulous they lie and brood ; | I say it’s Ramazan, the sacred moon, When pious foes are likely to intrude ; Night after night I venture to aver That something still may possibly occur ; They hear me sweetly, but they think I err, And on the parados prepare their food. I know not if indeed the gleam is gone That did inflame this melancholy crew, Or if deep down some ember carries on, And, when at last the Turk comes creeping through, As some old golfer, once considered warm, Is deadliest yet where thick the hazards swarm, They in a flash may find their ancient form— Then Allah help the Faithful if they do! |

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D. 4, 191 2 NOVEMBER CHARIVARI.— ONDON L 1 4 OR THE INCH PU C7 on ‘ONL y | gf” y ny ) “4, “, In, YNIGVOSHAd WAL 7 % ‘

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NoveMBER 24, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. (EXTRACTED FROM THE Diary oF Topsy, M.P.) ASQUITH, Batrour, Luoyp GEORGE AND EDWARD GREY, BEING OVER MILITARY AGE, ARE, AFTER SEVERE SCRUTINY, ALLOWED TO LEAVE THE COUNTRY FOR A SHORT TRIP TO House of Commons, Monday, Novem- ber 15th.— Twenty-nine years ago I heard Lord RanpotpH CHURCHILL, standing at the corner of bench behind that reserved for Ministers, explain circumstances attendant upon his re- signation of the post of Chancellor of Exchequer and Leader of the House. To-day I heard his eldest son, standing in same place, recount circumstances | attendant upon resignation of Minis- terial office and seat in Cabinet. Wun- ston had advantage over his father in matter of weather. When the former made his historic speech spirits of audience were depressed by incursion of dense fog. As Winston spoke the sunlight of a frosty afternoon played on the windows. RANDOLPH’s career was irretrievably settled when he “forgot GoscHEN.” Effect upon future of Winston will be watched by the public with keen sympathetic interest. In opening passage of his speech Wixston gently chaffed Epwarp Carson, seated on Front Opposition Bench, awaiting opportunity to pounce on ForeiGN SEcRETARY in correction of statement made last week as to attitude of Cabinet towards Serbia PaRis. which led to Artornrey - GENERAL'S resignation. ‘“ The fact,” he said, “ that I do not take my place on the Front |Opposition Bench does not imply criticism on those who do.” With sly hit at whom it might con- cern (he was talking at the moment of Lord Fisuer’s doubts and hesitations touching Expedition to the Darda- inelles), he declared he accepted re- | sponsibility for his written and recorded ‘opinions expressed in every case “before not after the event.” These the only light Churchillian touches in a speech of an hour’s dura- tion. Scrupulously avoiding personal attack or even sharp criticism upon colleagues from whose inner council he had withdrawn, he contented himself with detailed explanation and vindica- tion of his own conduct, more especially in relation to two episodes of whose failure persistentrumour has made him bear the brunt—attempted relief of Antwerp, and the, at present, abortive attack on the Dardanelles. Listened to throughout with closest attention, encouraged by frequent cheers, he sat down amid prolonged applause, joined in from every part of House. Prive MIvIsTER, in one of his felicitous phrases, summed up general opinion. “My Right Honourable friend has,” he said, ‘dealt with a very delicate situation not only with ability and eloquence, but also with loyalty and discretion.” . No higher tribute could be paid, nor, | coming from this quarter, one more valuable. Business done.— Report stage of Vote of Credit for £400,000,000 agreed to without dissentient voice. House of Lords, Tuesday.—Lord FisHer, like K. or K., is a rare visitant to House of Lords. Busy men with plenty of work to do, they feel they can- not waste time in an august assembly which one of them calls “ the Talking Shop.” FisHer partly made up for prolonged absence by coming in this afternoon excessively early. Seated himself on Front Cross Bench. Wait- ing for stroke of half-hour at which public business commences he conned a broad sheet of manuscript produced from an inner coat pocket. Promptly at half-past four he rose. Successfully repressing inclination to preface his remarks by shouting “‘ Ahoy!” he said, “T ask leave of your lordships to make a statement.”

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| not muster more than a score. Regard- | | first attempt conquered faulty acoustics | of Chamber that have proved fatal a 434 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON (| CHAR IVARL. (NovempBer 24, 1915, At the moment their lordships did Premier from accusation of ha alting between two opinions. less of empty benches the ApmiraL read on in loud yoice which in this his | hope and belief that resort to coercive methods of recruitment would not be necessary. If hope and belief are not| realised he must have the men, and, Boxar Law unmistakably indicated, he will compel them to come in. Business done-—Commons read Ap- propriation Bill a second time. House of Commons, Wednesday. — In temporary absence of PREMIER, “Tt is,” he added, “ unfitting to make | Bonar Law answers for him at Ques- personal explanations affecting national | tion Time, vice CHANCELLOR oF Ex- interest when my country is in the midst | cHEQUER, still busy with his Budget. of a great war. | A statement by Home Secretary With this dig at Winston, possibly ‘shows how tightly the net is being allusive to his former colleague’s re-| drawn round eligible men of military mark about desirability of expressing age who dev elop sudden yearning for opinion “before not after ;~ to many more experienced speakers. Certain references to him had been made on previous day by Winston CHURCHILL. Having been in the service of his country for sixty-one years, he was content to leave his record in the hands of his countrymen. At Question | i'Time he had declared with confident | the event,’ he sat down. Only for a moment. Tuck- ing his sheet of manuscript | in breast-coat pocket he | abruptly left House. If anybody had anything to. say on the subject let them speak. For his part, in the briefest maiden speech ever delivered in either House, | he had said all Ke had it at | heart to say. In Commons a full House awaited Premier's state-. ment about compulsion. At Question Time he was heckled by group of Mem- | bers seated among his| nominal supporters who. believe themselves more. | competent to conduct the Hostess. War than the newly-created Council or even the General Staff, dis- IN THAT THING. wf Wal owt (wont Scene : War-work drawing-room on Sunday. ‘On, SHOUT OUT, Cor ONEL;, IF YOU FEEL 7a8 NEEDLES Iv’s A PIN-CUSHION DURING THE WEEK,’ foreign travel. During continuance respectfully spoken of this afternoon in of the War they will be required to other House bythateminent military au-| provide themselves with special per- thority from St. David’s(notthe Bishop).| mit for the voyage. ‘“ And,” added Severe catechism elicited nothing fresh. Sir Joun Sron, “it will not be given Accordingly, when second reading of | without good cause.’ Appropriation Bill was moved, making | opening for debate on any topic rang- ing from China to Peru, WHITEHOUSE returned to the charge, protesting | against compulsion in any form. In- _cidentally he referred to Lord Dersy’s circular on subject of coyness of un- married men as “ an insult to the House and a gross breach of its privileges.” By this time Premier had retired, “engaged on duties connected with the War, which,” Bonar Law explained, “make it absolutely. impossible for him to be here.” Having, indeed, already started for Paris, and not being a bird, he could not at the moment be on Treasury Bench. g| Sark tells me of a rather awkward ‘episode attendant upon the earliest | working of the new Order in Council. | Yesterday evening Prime Minister, the | ForEiGN Secretary, the First Lorp |OF THE ApMiraLTy and the MINISTER or Munitions arrived at Dover on their way to conference with French Govern- ment in Paris. As they were about to step on board the packet-boat they were approached by emissary of Home Office with demand tp show their per- mission to leave the country. Epwarp Grey, personally conducting the little party of excursionists, furnished ex- planation in French tongue. Home | Office man naturally confused. Whilst Task of replying to debate was de-|he hesitated the captains, and (if the puted to CotoniaL Secretary. Admir- | Censor will permit me to say so) the ably performed. —ay wanes kings, Supested. GrorGE Cave, taking his seat on re-election after his appointment to Solicitor-Generalship, greeted with hearty cheers from all parts of the House, testifying to personal popularity and approval of his promotion. | Business done.—Finance Bill through | Committee. Thursday.—In debate on Appro- priation Bill, much talk about reckless waste of rations in the trenches and in training camps at home. Forster, speaking on behalf of War Office, threw flood of light on situation by simple statement. As result of stricter super- vision wanton waste has already been checked. Yesterday report received from one command stated “In the month of October we saved 800,000 ib. of meat, a ton of mustard, a ton of ~— pepper, ten tons of salt, ten | tons of bread, and a ton of | bacon.” | Forster beamed with honest. self-congratulation at this evidence of efficiency. 'House rather inclined to regard it as painful confes- sion of amazing miscaleula- tion. Problem takes form ‘of Rule of Three sum. If |in one month, in a single command, ten tons of bread and a ton of bacon, not to ‘mention meat, mustard, | pepper and salt, are chucked | away by the ton, what has been the aggregate of waste over a period of fifteen months in respect of an | Army of a million men ? The harried tax - payer - — cheerfully suffers personal land domestic privations. In order generously to feed our gallant soldiers he gives up luxury of breakfast bacon, cuts down his butcher's bill, toys with the pepper-castor and the salt-cellar and saves up odd crusts of bread. But this ton of wasted bacon, so to speak, sticks in his throat. Business done.—Appropriation Bill read a third time. ‘* T have had several kind anonymous dona- tions, which are most encouraging to us at the present time. Official receipts have been for- warded as usual.”’ Hoylake and West Kirby News. The anonymous donors now understand what it is to “do good by stealth and blush to find it fame.” From Miss F, E. Mints Youna’s recent novel, The Great Unrest, p. 59:— ‘* Among the tall reeds a swan was sitting, busily hatching her annual brood of signets ; the male bird was swimming about near her.” No doubt admiring these seals of his wife’s affection.

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15,

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NoveMBER 24, 1915.

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI.

a 7 z ; tai j » % PT I £4 #4: i i j : i M it - < i meet veer 4 rd eel -= { 7? anes re Fd —mesermncsisanreorer cement ’ thehag eal N.C.O. **’ERE, ARE YOU AN ARTIST, OR A POET OR ANYTHINK?’’ Recruit. ‘‘ No, Srr.”’ N.C.O. ‘*‘ WELL, GET YER ’AIR CUT BY NEXT PARADE, THEN.”’ = : ‘ “ encouraged them to bring them into send him to the top of the class. Top NEO-MONTESSORIANISM. [Suggested by a perusal of A Dominie’s Log, by the Scots schoolmaster, Mr. Nenu, who, according to The Weekly Dispatch, has had the “tremendous courage” to run his school on the no-discipline lines. I know that I am teaching badly when my bairns are quiet. Noise is essential to life and I want to teach my | bairns how to live. Every good school- | master should do all that in him lies to promote the dominion of din. The man | who said that silence is golden was a cream-laid ass. No self-respecting bairn should ever be without an adequate supply of cobbler’s wax. I make a point of giving each of my bairns a fresh ball of this precious substance at least once a week. It not only pleases them but it has often enabled me to stick to my work long after I should have naturally left my chair. As a boy my great ambition was to possess (1) a Jew’s harp; (2) a saloon pistol. Acting on the principle that all boyish instinets are sound, I have purchased and presented one of each to every bairn in my school and; If one of my bairns misbehaves, I, ading under the alias of Chadband,

class. I do not insist, because insist- |ence is a crime. As a matter of fact only two of my bairns have declined to |come into line. The results are most | exhilarating, though so far I have only | had two flesh wounds in the leg. The cult of spelling is one of the greatest curses of our educational sys- tem. No really great man was a good speller. SHAKSPEARE spelt his name |in nineteen different ways, and I en- |courage my bairns to follow his great 'example. One of our best lessons con- |sists in spelling our names with the | fewest possible number of right letters. |I have given a prize to a bairn who ispelt his Christian name without a | single letter right—‘ Gekup ” for “ Jacob.” | I object to age and experience; I am | all for youth and empiricism. The duty |of a schoolmaster is not to teach, but to preserve the youthfulness of his |pupils by adopting their standpoint, and dress. I always wear short thick pants. f . un boys are always unpopular, and the lesson is rarely wasted. The prime essential in essay writing is to know absolutely nothing about the subject. Then and then only is it possible to approach it in a spirit of fresh and vital detachment. All know- ledge is dangerous, but ignorance is of the Seventh Heaven. |

I have not’ been caned by my boys | for a fortnight. But it is too much to hope that this immunity will last much longer. Corporal punishment for schoolmasters is as necessary as milk for babes.

‘* Miss would be grateful to any lady or gentleman who could recommend her as Single Footman.”’ Wallington and Carshalton Herald. We admire the lady’s courage. She is too brave to serve as a Married Foot- man after Mr. Asquirn’s explicit pledge.

‘** Truth,’ cries Lord Milner, ‘truth all round.’ Thus spake Pecksniff that unctuous advocate of ‘ Terewth.’’’—Evening Paper. This was when Pecksniff was masquer-

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436 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [November 24, 1915, | LIFE ON A HALVED INCOME. My efforts to live on half my income have not hitherto been very encourag- ing. To begin with, my income is already half my income; that is to say, it is exactly half what it was eighteen months ago; and the attempt to live on a quarter of the income to which I have been accustomed has shown me with appalling clarity the hopelessness of my outlook. As matters stand at present I feel I am ploughing a very lonely furrow. People upon whose co-operation I con- fidently relied are not helping me a bit. They don’t meet me half-way. They don’t even half-meet me _ half-way, which is the least they could do if this at all reciprocal. my somewhat overdue[~ ~~ og. Michaelmas rent; not, “cet for the full rent, but for half. As I pointed out to him in my letter, if I was expected to dive on half my income, it | was clear that I could) only afford to pay half! rent ; and as he too was doubtless living on the same principle, it would save him a lot of un- necessary book-keeping if I only remitted the half he was morally entitled to spend. On receiving his reply I was agreeably sur- prised to find my | own cheque enclosed. half-income business is intended to be | For instance, last | | week I sent my landlord a cheque for | ‘ BE THESE TIMES OF NATIONAL CRISIS WE OUGHT TO MAKE A SACRIFICE DOING WITHOUT THE MOTOR,’’ brows, her voice, Cain, or anything else indicative of acute indignation or disap- pointment I shall pretend I made a mistake. In the interim I am doing my best to halve everything possible. The other morning the cook-general was laid up in bed, the inclement weather having brought on a bad attack of asthma, which, owing to the increased cost of drugs, she had not taken the necessary steps to ward off. As I had to get my own breakfast I thought it would be a good opportunity to try to poach half an egg. This was harder than it sounds. I found I could poach the yolk alone, or the white alone. To isolate either was a simple matter. But when it came to he exclaimed, glaring at me fiercely | and suspiciously. “ Yes,” I answered. | “ You see, though I said the child had only one foot, what Ireally meant was that it has Siamese feet—joined to- gether, you know. That’s why I must have an eight.” | But my attempt was (pardon me) | bootless. Lastly I found that what a contributor to Punch has already af- firmed—that dentists are not reducing their fees—is correct. I went with the intention of getting the dentist to stop a runaway bicuspid which had been annoying me. “How much are you charging these times?” I asked when I had told him what I wanted. “A guinea,” he replied. “ But,” I said, “I am attempting to live on half my in- | ;come. Can’t you meet me in the matter of your fee?” ‘“ Certainly,” he said. ‘ My fee for total extraction is ~___ | half - a - guinea — just half ; and you may take the tooth away with you if you like.” | Thus for a hideous |five minutes I had the melancholy satisfaction of living at half my severing the conglomerate mass into halves the egg slid all over the dish, and ultimately found a destination on the hearth-rug. However, I succeeded in ‘normal rate of ex- | penditure. | | ‘« Councillor said he 7/ | was present when a gentle- | man was engaging nurses | over the telephone, and the | girls were talking the salary up by degrees. When the figure reached £120 he 'eould hear them turn up their noses from where he stood.’’—Evening Paper. The worthy Councillor & Husband (after smash). ‘‘ DARLING, SOMETHING SEEMS TO TELL ME THAT IN BY—ER— “Good!” I thought. ‘“He’s a sport. He’s going to live on no income at all. He’s not going to do things by halves.” This latter part of my surmise proved to be correct. My landlord demanded a cheque for the rent in full, failing which he threatened ‘to put a man in possession—a whole one. This was not a very comforting start. retrieving most of it, and put it into the! must be a relation of the Sergeant- poacher, though from the subsequent Major who, at the words “ Eyes front,” result I am still very hazy in my mind | expected the eyeballs to go back with a as to whether I have really effected an | click. economy in half-poaching a whole egg instead of whole-poaching a half-egg. My next attempt was in the matter of boots. I possessed a pair, one of which was worn out, the other with ‘Mr. George H. Greig of Winnipeg, secre- tary of the Livestock Association, will arrive in Vancouver to-day to support the call that has been sent by Augustine Church to Rev. Leslie Pidgeon of St. John’s Church, Van- couver.”—Daily Province (Vancouver). The reverend gentleman could not have had a more appropriate backer. I then sent for my cook-general, and) many months of useful service before vid the inclement weather, her asthma it. I can’t explain why they should and the increased cost of drugs—each|have been in this uneven condition, | topic cropping up out of the other with | unless I have unconsciously formed | perfect naturalness—I adroitly intro-|the habit of walking more with one leg _duced the subject of a reduction in|than with the other. Be that as it may, I went to the bootmaker’s and ‘« Experienced Parlourmaid Wanted for 20 minutes from London; wages £28, all found.” Morning Paper. wages. And now I am wondering whether |placed an order for one boot. He| Even in these days £1 8s. Od. a minute her emphatic “ Not ’alf”’ was a cordial | simply wouldn’t listen to me. The| 1s a generous wage. acceptance or an indignant repudiation | more I placed the order the less he of my suggestion. I wish I were better | listened. Finally, in desperation, I versed in the actual meaning of catch-|invented a purely mythical child who, phrases. Meanwhile I don’t know|I said, had been born with only one whether she will expect thirty shillings | foot, and was now threatened with total or three pounds at the end of the month. |bootlessness. He became so far inter: I shall begin by giving her thirty shill-|ested as to inquire the size. I told ings, and then if she raises her eye-|him an eight. “ Eights for a child? ” ‘* At last the long-expected missive arrived, | and it contained one word, ‘ Pececavi!’ An Hindustani scholar was sought, and he trans- | lated it. ‘I have sinned (Scinde)!’’’ | Auckland Weekly News. | This detail regarding Sir CHarues | Napier’s famous despatch is quite new to us.

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1e /p On vr © are fF fF tes November 24, 1915.] PUNCH, 43 I AWAKE TOO LATE. TEN MILES TO THE PARADE GROUND—IMPOSSIBLE ! MACHINE GIVES OUT. ee | ~ FReynolds HowrveR—— THE EVE OF THE AND THEN GRAND INSPECTION.—A G.R. NIGHTMARE. AND LEAVE THE HOUSE WITH A FEELING THAT ALL IS NOT WELL. SHOVED IN THE FRONT, OF COURSE. -INSPECTION ! I SHALL HAVE TO CUT OUT SUPPERS.

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438 PUNCH, OR THE L ONDON CHARIVARI. [Novemper 24, 1915, THE NOVEL. “ Francesca,’ I said, “I’ve quite made up my mind. It’s going to be done.” “T’m sorry to hear it,” she said; “it will be too short.” ‘No, no,” I said; “it'll be just the right length.” “Tt never is, you know. You may be relied on to get it much too short.” “Don’t talk nonsense, Francesca. The length is settled.” “And that,” she said, “is just what I complain of. It always comes out as no length at all; and then we shall have you going about the house for a week or two looking like a German soldier clipped for action.” “That,” I said, “is mere insolence. nothing to do with what I’m talking about. in a hundred-and-twenty thousand words.” “A hundred-and-twenty thousand snips, you mean. You can’t use as many words as that, you know. And, if you did, you couldn’t count them.” “ Yes,” I said, “I could.: It’s perfectly easy. I should either average it at three hundred words to a sheet of foolscap or ‘ “T do not know,” gentleman is talking about. to him, for much learning hath made him mad. she added sharply, ‘‘ what are you driving at?” “T am driving,’ I said, “at my first novel, which I am going to start withput fail in half-an-hour from now.” ‘Gracious heavens!” she laughed, “I thought you were talking about getting your hair cut.” “ Francesca,” I said impressively, ‘I have noticed with growing regret a tendency on your part to neglect the higher things of the mind. I want the mantle of Fretpixa and you throw round my shoulders a hairdresser’s linen sheet. How, I ask you, can Art (with a capital A) flourish in such an atmosphere ?” “ Art,” she said, “ with or without a big A, can look after itself. It generally has to. But if you’re really going to write a novel I take back all I said against your having your hair cut. I have noticed that in novels novelists are always contemptuously referred to as ‘long-haired.’ Now I want you to be an exception, so you can go at once and get your hair cropped close to the skull.” “Then,” I said, “I shall be contemptuously referred to as ‘short-haired.’ I think I shall write my novel with my hair as it is.” ‘And then,” she said, ‘“‘ you'll be contemptucusly referred to as ‘medium-haired.’ You're sure to be caught what- ever you do; and besides your hair will grow as you go along. You’d better give up this strange idea of writing a novel.” “You are not,” I said, “ very encouraging. Is it nothing to you that you should some day be referred to as the Besides, it has I shall do it said Francesca, “what this poor I trust the world will be kind Come,”’ original of Alexandra in the novel of that name, or that | men and women, when they see you, should nudge one another * ‘‘Men and women don't nudge one another in the best circles. They ve given it up with butlers and motor-cars and other luxuries. There’s an Anti-nudge Society, and I’m going to belong to it.” “ Anyhow,” I said, “that won’t prevent your being spoken of as the wife of Carlyon the novelist. What a glorious day that'll be for us!” “Tt’ll be all right for you,” she said, “ but I don’t much see where I come in.” “Don’t you?” I said. ‘“ You'll have a lot of reflected glory, and so will Muriel and Nina and Alice and Frederick. Their paths through life will be made easier for them.” ‘Well, well,” she said, “let us hear something more about this wonderful piece of work. What’s it called? Alexandra ?” “No,” I said, ‘‘ that’s another one. a title yet.” “ What is it about?” “Oh,” I said enthusiastically, “ people, you know—men and women, and some of them fall in love with one another, and other people interfere with them; but it'll all come right in the end—trust me for a happy ending—and some | of them will be agreeable people, and some of them disagree- able, but we can kill most of the disagreeable ones off in a railway accident, and then the nice ones can have their money. How does the idea strike you?” “Yes,” she said, “I think I see what you mean. there be a plot in it?” ‘Nothing too violent,’ I said. current to keep things together.” “Tt’ll be rather a queer undercurrent, won't it, if it does that? However, you know best, of course. Will there be a hero?” | “There isn’t much done in heroes of novels nowadays ; | but I think I ’ll have one.” “ Blue eyes?” “No,” I said, “dark brown, the sort of dark brown that has a red flash in it in the dark.” “You ’re thinking of dogs,” she said. “ And, by the way, who’s going to take the dogs out for walks while you ’re writing your masterpiece ?” “ Arrangements,” [ said, ‘‘ must be made for the dogs. I can’t afford to subordinate fame to a Great Dane and three Pekinese spaniels.” “Well,” she said, “ you'd better be off now and make a start. There’s no time like the present.” “Yes,” I said, “there is. This time to-morrow will be much more like the present. I shall begin then.” “You might start on your hair to-day.” “Yes,” I said, “I will.” « And don’t forget about the dogs,” said Francesca. R. C. L. This one hasn’t got Will “Just a gentle under- A LITERARY WAR WORKER. (The favourite reading at the Front is, we are informed, the novelette of the more sentimental kind.) In these days of stress and tumult, when the frightfulness of war Readjusts the private notions which were prejudiced before, It behoves the present critic to express his deep regrets For his strictures on the makers of the nation’s novelettes. | He has sneered at them and found it far from easy to forgive Their adeptness at the splitting of the frail infinitive ; He has sniggered at the love scenes, where, in sylvan spots | apart, Eva emptied over Ernest all the slop-pail of her heart. But to-day the case is altered, now that somewhere that is French "Tis the novelette brings comfort to the troops that man the trench ; Tommy, resting from his labours, is perusing with a zest of breast. Here’s a luck to such romancing; may ideas be never short To the British novelettist of the sentimental sort ! | May whatever gods inspire him keep his fancy free and fit, | For he’s Tommy’s favourite reading; so he does his little | bit ! How Sir Brandon hugged Belinda to his large expanse |

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es be 8; at NoveMBER 24, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 439 ————s isa i | ii Joan, ‘‘ PARSON ’E BE ALWAYS ASKIN’ FOR MONEY FOR ‘IS NEW WANTS A NEW SET 0’ TEETH?”’ WHY DON’T ’E JUST SAY, PLAIN, AS ‘OW 'E ‘’BATIN’ APPARATUS.’ OUR BOOKING-OFFICE, (By Mr. Punch’s Staff of Learned Clerks.) THE name of the Baroness von HuTTEN recalls agreeable memories of Pam, whom she created and projected, for our benefit, into the field of literature. I regret not to be able to assert that in Birds’ Fountain (HutcHtnson) she has reached her ancient standard. If she set out to write a trivial tale, flavoured with something more than a soupcon of naughtiness, about highly uninteresting people, she may be said to have achieved a considerable success. As to the characters, my profound conviction is that all of them, with the possible exception of Mr. Immenham, a butler, would be the better of a sound spanking. The heroine is Mrs. Cloudesley Dorset, whose tiring-room is described in the opening chapter with an amplitude and particularity of detail calculated to bring a blush to the cheek of a hardened male reviewer. She is supremely shallow-pated and very beautiful, and, having passed what the author describes as a petty useless silly little life, she finally entangles herself in an intrigue with Mr. Archibald Hood, a Don Juan. Her husband is so deeply devoted to her that, to ensure her happiness, he is willing to put her in a position to marry her adorer and to settle seven thousand pounds a year on her. I ought to add—though this does not explain Mr. Dorset’s comp!aisance—that she is able to “smooth her hair with absent skilful fingers,” a pretty trick to which I invite the attention of Messrs. Devant. The story oscillates between elopement and reconciliation, and finally comes down with a bang on the right side of the fence after Mr. and Mrs. Dorset have, to the surprise of the latter, met and embraced at the grave of their child. Mr. Hood's fate is not described, but 1 trust we are entitled to assume that the statue of the Commendatore will get him. Quite one ofthe most remarkable books I have encountered for a long while is My People (MetrosEe). When I tell you that the name of the author is Carapoc Evans you will perhaps be able to make an intelligent guess at the nation- ality of the People described. But no guessing could give you any idea of the quality of these horrible (I use the word advisedly) studies. The Welsh peasantry have been written about before now, in a variety of aspects ; here we have them, or, as I would prefer to hope, the lowest class of them, from within. Not a trace here of poetry, imagination or those pleasing manifestations of the Celtic spirit that we have learnt to associate with Art movements and the soulful eccentricities of the over-educated. I can best compare My People to the grimmest passages from Harpy, told in the language of the Old Testament. The sordid brutality of them is only half relieved by a gleam of savage humour that the author sometimes permits himself in the telling. It doesn’t sound pleasant, does it? Yet the power of the thing is altogether undeniable. For page after page Mr. Evans holds you, as The Ancient Mariner held The Wedding Guest, and your unwilling attention has no chance of escape. A word of warning however; My People is emphatically not a book for indiscrimate leaving about, even in these days of toleration. Mrs. Grundy is not so much flouted as ignored by Mr. Evans. One fetls that he is telling of what he knows and has himself experi- | enced; it is this that gives its horrible fascination even to

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440 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [NovemBeR 24, 1915, the most repellent of the stories. The fact that they are also literature will make me watch the writer's futare work with interest. It is a long time since I read a new novel which reminded me of CuHartes Reape, who latterly has been no one’s model. Yet all the way through Mr. Epwarp Nosie’s story, The Bottle Fillers (HEINEMANN), recollections of Hard Cash rose before me. Not only is there in it a young man the victim of circumstances, and usually in search of a job, but the book was written with a reforming purpose, the author’s desire being to see more justice done to the brave men of the Merchant Service (who fill our bottles and larders) and more vigilance on the part of the Board of Trade (or Plaster Saint, as that august body seems to be known at sea) to check rascally owners. So long as he is at sea Mr. Nose is fine. He can marshal a storm with the best and prove every step ; of a fight with the elements. ui But on land he is less con- | | th vincing, and I must confess, "| to getting as tired of Lucy as of her forerunner in| 1 Reape’s too lengthy attack on private asylums. Nor, | do I think it necessary for Mr. Nosxe to be so ruthless | to both hero and heroine) (not to mention their only child) as he is. The book | would have been no worse and the reader would have been far happier had O'Hagan and his young! wife escaped from the final | wreck. i Land Those who only know) their “ GrorceE A. Brruinc- | HAM” in a mood of! boisterous humour may not | recognise him as a grim) retiarius throwing his net | of Gossamer (MerHuen) | Editor. ‘‘ TH1s JOKE ISN’T BAD. Marine Painter (who has turned native land, Covenanter and | Nationalist alike, with distinctly hostile intent. It is a hostility pleasantly disguised by a sub-acid, cynical humour and a genial detachment. A dispossessed Irish gentleman, Sir James Digby, disgruntled victim of Land Purchase, is the narrator of this acceptable trifle of a tale. The other chief folk are a glib-tongued Nationalist, Gorman (a sketch not void of malice), and Ascher, a subtle, likeable financier of German nationality, who, when the War comes, deals fairly with the nation that has been for so long his kindly host. I hasten to say, in these suspicious times, that this doesn’t mean that Canon Hannay isa pro-German. So far as I can make out he has been recently and quite enormously impressed by the delicate texture of the financial network which eovers and holds together the world—this is really his ‘‘ gossamer ’’—and has worked off his new and perhaps somewhat amateurish wonder in this mild discursive book. But I can honestly say that I read every word of it with interest, for the reverend author has a jolly way with him, even when he is not meaning to be funny. “T offer,” says Sir Ray Lankester, in a preface to Diversions of a Naturalist (METHUEN), “these chapters to the reader as possibly affording to him, as their revision WPI LoD TO DO WITH Ir? IT SEEMS TO BE MERELY A STUDY OF SEA AND SKY.”’ a> ie litie: f hig BEAD IT aGaIn YOU’LL SEE THAT IT’S A CONVERSATION BETWEEN over the politicians of his; gwo wewpers OF A SUBMARINE CREW.” lhas to me, a weleome escape, when health demands it, from the immense and inexorable obsession of warfare ;” }to which I should iike to add that, whether my health | demanded it or not, I have tried and approved of his pre- ‘scription. The articles here have already been published in |The Daily Telegraph under the name of “ Science from an | Easy Chair,” surely as seductive a title as the wit of a | Professor could find. The author, however, has not only 'a nice taste for titles, but also the knack of presenting 'scientific facts in a form that will not disagree with the ‘most delicately shy digestion. Even I, who thought myself a ‘“douser,”’ and now discover that my twig ‘“ plunged” |merely because my muscles became fatigued, must accept this blow to my illusion with a good grace, out of pure | gratitude for the tonic quality of Sir Ray’s Diversions. It was doubtless because Mr. Rrtey knew that the hero of his book, Netherleigh (HERBERT JENKINS), would have to be taken with a grain of salt that he housed him in an attic so that the salt should be of the right kind. Certainly it is not easy to believe in this young man of twenty-five. He is suffering from heart troubles and has been so completely confined to his room that he knows nothing of life but what he has learned from books, casual conver- sation and the country view from his window. If you can believe in him— and I advise you to try— you should have a good many laughs and quite a number of smiles over his record of the life which he starts at the instance of a new doctor who tells him not to be a mummy any longer but to. wake up. His travels don’t take him a a Tree - far beyond his village, but he meets people whom he has a very happy knack of describing so that you get to know them and like them. Occasionally he seems to see them with eyes that have more experience than the conditions justify ; but that is where Mr. Riney comes in. After all, you can’t expect an author to publish his hero’s manuscript altogether unedited. BuT WHAT HAS THE PICTURE GOT to humorous Art). ‘‘ WELL, IF You Another Poser for Lord Derby. ‘* A married man who enlists under the deferred service scheme and is sent back to civilian life would be permitted to marry, and when he was called up his wife would be entitled to separation allowance.”’ Manchester Evening News. Yes, but which wife ? ‘“GERMANY’S LACK OF METALS. SUGGESTION TO BREAK UP STATUTEs.”’ Eastern Province Herald (S. Africa). Germany appears to be faced with “Red ruin and the breaking-up of laws.” An optician’s advertisement :— ‘‘OScULISTS’ PRESCRIPTIONS ACCURATELY EXECUTED.” There’s many a slip ’twixt the eye and the lip.

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alth pre- d in 1 an of a mnly hing the self ad ’’ ept ure ero igh uld 1a sed the oht not ing 2 is | les | ely hat life 1ed | er- try lf }--- od Ya his he fa im ny ip. im ut en | 1€ | DECEMBER 1, 1915.) PU CHARIVARIA. having a A Book which is great | yogue in Berlin describes the entry of | the German Army into London, and | mentions incidentally that the troops marched over London Bridge, as the Charing Cross Bridge had been demol- ished on the previous day by heavy German artillery. We are glad to see that this insidious attempt to enlist the sympathy of Londoners for the invader is being countered in advance, as the South-Eastern Railway Company is | proposing to improve the appearance | of this engineering atrocity. Psy The Censor who wrote, d@ propos of the story of a soldier’s letter to his mother | being destroyed without his being told | in saying that this is the ' work of one of the base | censors,” | league. | been merely stupid. the reason, ‘I feel safe was perhaps unduly hard on his col- He may have Golf as played by the Amir OF AFGHANISTAN is a great improvement on the ordinary Scottish variety. There are no bunkers on the course at Jalalabad, and tea is served on every green. This has given a new lease of life to several overworked jokes about caddies and spoons. a: In a review of Lord REDESDALE’S Memories, 2 The Saturday Review says that Prince Lonanorr, the Russian Ambassador in London, claimed as his own “ Lord Beaconsfield’s celebrated _epigram, ‘London is the key of London.’” The Saturday Review is too modest. That epigram is entirely its own. 3 We understand that the American motor-car manufacturer whose adver- tisements are being so ostentatiously refused by certain British journals is quite happy about it. So long as his name gets into the papers every day he doesn’t mind how little he pays for the publicity. . In view of the scarcity of clothing materials an invention for preparing paper in such a way as to make it suitable for almost every article of ap- parel has been welcomed in Germany. The Kaiser is greatly taken with the idea, and has instructed the CHANCELLOR to compile a popular pamphlet entitled, “ What to do with the Old Treaties.” JNCH, OR THE LONDON CH. ARIVARL Further evidence of the enemy’s chastened condition is the statement on the notepaper of Wo.rr’s Tele- | graphic Bureau that “it assumes no| responsibility of any kind for the accu- | racy of the news which it circulates.” But the statement that its despatches |will in future be known as “ Lamb’s | Tales ”’ is as vet unconfirmed, He is a big strong- looking young man, and has tried again and again to get into the Army, but never a “doctor will pass him. However, he has not yet given up hope, and wrote home the other day, “ If they won’t take me as ¢ combatant, damme if I won’t go to the | Front as a chaplain.” In order to set an example of| SUPER-PATRIOT. THE economy the Government have ordered the substitution of steel nibs for the time-honoured quills in the House of Commons writing-rooms. But they have not yet ventured to abolish or curtail the Members’ £400 a year. Their motto “Take care of the pens and the pounds will take care of themselves.” — is: It is not true, we see, that the Brixton policemen, when directing the traffic, wear a red lamp on their backs to prevent themselves from being run down. Another suggestion that their boots should be covered with luminous paint was rejected on the ground that it might give too much information to enemy aircraft. .» » a The American Ambassador at Berlin has described the brutalities inflicted upon British prisoners in Germany ; but we have as yet seen no protest from the American Ambassador in London against the provision of “ free 441 ' shooting for German officers at Liber Vy | Hall.” | An ingenious lady has discovered that a box closely packed with news- papers can be used for cooking on the ‘hay-box’’ principle. As fourteen or fifteen copies are required to keep a saucepan “on the boil,’ our more in- flammatory contemporaries are expect- ing a large addition to their circulation. A “ Patriotic Season-Ticket Holder ”’ writes :—‘‘In an issue. two or three years ago you stated that the German Ambassador had made representations complaining that whilst certain notices in the South-Eastern and Chatham railway carriages were rendered in French, the German version was omit- ted. As a result, no doubt, of the publicity you gave to the matter, the railway company actually had new notices prepared :— ‘ Do not lean out of the win- dow. Ne passe pencher au dehors, NICHT HINAUSLEHNEN.’ | Now, Sir, I have ‘done my bit.” I have used three quarters of a packet \of court-plaster and the gummy edges of sundry envelopes in surrepti- tiously obliterating the ‘Nicut.’ I have also ruined both blades of my pocket-knife upon the impenetrable enamel of this unpatriotic legend ; but the evil is too wide- spread to yield to individual effort.” Lord Pontyrripp, opening a bazaar at Treharris recently, said that, though he was a member of many clubs, a Welsh Noneonformist chapel could not be beaten as a club. It is understood that the Committees of the Devonshire, the Reform and the National Liberal are contemplating the institution of Pleasant Sunday Afternoons in the hope of retaining his lordship’s dis- tinguished patronage. ‘ An old coloured print. Napoleon Crossing the Alps, and several other people ; price £30.” The Bazaar. It was a firm rule of NAPoLEoN never to undertake a campaign single-handed. ‘¢ Wounded soldiers are taken by well-known Cairene inhabitants to see the sights of Egypt in pyjamas.’’—Sphere. Considerable difficulty, we are told, was | experienced in fitting out the Sphinx. VOL. CXLIX. Zz

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442 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [DecemBer 1, 1915, THE UEBERLAND ROUTE. (Réverie of a Sultan.) Or course it’s very nice for me, And should, by rights, promote a gay mood, To keep the course to India free Tor Wixi1am’s passage; this should be The best of fun for MEnMovup. I ought to like, for his pure sake, Remembering how superb a Boss it is, To hang about in FEerpir’s wake And watch the vulgar Bulgar break Our record in atrocities. And yet the prospect turns me blue. Must I (God’s shadow as I am) lick The Kaisrer’s crushers, should he do A grace to me in passing through, And light at my Selamlik ? Let’s hope he may not turn aside To share with me an hour’s inertia; But, taking Bosphorus in his stride, Push on to make the East his bride By way of poor old Persia. Else he may find the foe en route, Ready t6 bar his road at Bagdad, And Father’s mouth will then be mute To Lirrte Wit1e’s cry for loot :— “Me for the Indian swag, Dad!” 0.5. THE SOUVENIR. THEY were a carriage - full of “veterans,” returning on short furlough from Flanders—the new kind of veteran, made by just the fifteen months of hard campaigning that had filled their lives without cessation since they had landed to the tune of “ Tipperary” in August of last year. Veterans, yet so close was their youth behind them that it would not be denied, and bubbled out of them in strange contradic- tion of their warworn appearance. Stories of Mons, the Marne and “ Wipers” were incongruously interspersed with reminiscences of callow larks and ingenuous antici- pations of the times they were going to have during their short leave. First one and then another produced some treasured souvenir that he was carrying back—a helmet, a piece of shell or shrapnel. They all displayed their trophies, excepting one somewhat older, hard-bitten man, who sat a little aloof, taking no part in the loud talking and showing but small interest. At last one of the men addressed him directly: “ Wot ‘ave you got?” ‘“Nuthink,” he replied shortly. “ Wot! not an ’elmit nor nuthink to giv yer gal?” “ Ain’t gort no gal.” “ Well, yer ole mother, then.” “’Ere! Never you mind abaht my ole mother, or you'll get a thick ear, me lad!” “Ow! All right, ’Arry.” “ And,” fiercely, “‘ my nime ain’t ’Arry!” “Blimey! Marmajuke, then.” A row seemed imminent, but peace was restored on the | understanding that “ Ginger didn’t mean no ’arm.” “Funny your ’aving no souveneers,” ventured one of the peacemakers ingratiatingly. ‘ They ain’t ’ard to find.” “Ain't gort no use fer ‘em. Mug’s gime, I calls it, crawlin’ abaht wiv shells and bullets dropping all arahnd yer, tryin’ to find an ’elmit. Fat lot of good an ’elmit ud | be to me if me ’ead was blown orf gettin’ it! Wot’s the | blinkin’ good of an ’elmit if you’ve gort no ’ead to put | it on when yer showing it to people, eh ?” | “ But if you was to come acrost one, in a wye 0’ speaking, | I s’pose, nah, you’d pick it up?” “Ow, if it was to come into me ‘and, as you might sye, I wouldn’t mind, same as a souveneer wot I did ’appen to get. It’s the only one I gort, and it was just shoved into me ‘and wivaht looking fer it.” “Was it, nah? And wot might it be?” They all became interested. “Ow, it ain’t much.” And he produced a small iron door-knocker from his pocket. “W’y, that’s only a blinkin’ knocker,” said Ginger; “I s’pose yer pinched it off of some pore old Frenchwoman’s cottage door.” “Well, if yer thinks that, yer a bit aht, then, Mister Body-snatcher. That there knocker ’as an ’istory, it ’as, wot I'll tell yer abaht, if you blokes can keep that there Ginger’s mahth shut before I ’as to close it permanent by knockin’ his buck teeth dahn his perishin’ throat !”’ The necessary guarantees being given, he resumed. “This ’ere knocker ’as an ’istory, as I ses. One night— must ’a’ bin lawst December—I was in Wipers: a perish- in’ cruel night it was, too. There was a bitin’ wind and rain, and I was just abaht fed up wiv the ’ole job. I was goin’ dahn one of them side streets, just orf the Clorth ’All—you know the plice as it was then—pore ole Wipers, ain’t much left of it nah !”—there was a sympathetic mur- mur of assent. ‘ Well, as I was sying, I was walkin’ dahn this ’ere street, sloppin’ an’ ’obblin’ along them blinkin’ cobbles in the dark, w’en I sees one of them French pubs, wot they calls ‘Eastaminets,’ wiv a cosy light. Dim, o’ corse, but warm-lookin’ and snug, an’ a bit of a sing-song comin’ aht. Not ’xac’ly the sime as a Bermond- sey pub of a Saturday night, but lively for that ’ole of a Wipers. ‘’Ere goes,’ ses I, thinkin’ of a few pints of that there French beer, wot is wet all right, but don’t seem te touch the spot. O’ course there wasn’t no double swing doors, with ‘ Public Bar’ writ on them—just a plain door with this ’ere knocker. So I gives a knock, and waits there in the drivin’ rain. After a bit, seeing as no one come, I ups with the knocker again to give a fair ole belt wiv it, and ” he paused while they all leant forward anxiously—‘ blimey! if a blinkin’ Jack Johnson didn’t blow the ’ole ‘ouse out of me ’and!” The Capital of the Abbasids. ‘¢ BaapaD, which figures so largely as the city of the abased caliphs in the Arabian tales.’’—Cork Constitution. There is good reason to hope that the misprint will shortly be justified. From a review of Mr. Evcene Corri’s Thirty Years a Boxing Referee :— “Full of admiration for the matchless courage and splendid endur- ance of the old-time men of the ring, he still thinks that baking, viewed as a great national sport, was never in a healthier state than it is to-day.” Mr. Corrt will now give the reviewer one in the bread- basket. ‘* Large quantities of herrings and sprats have been netted by the Avoch fishermen in the Inverness Town Hall during the past week.’’ Highland Leader. We print the extract as received, but feel sure there is some catch in it.

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ron n’s ter ere ent

Lf Yj fr" WY EEE TSS ~ fp WW) ——___ \\*, Wad % y 3 SS . + ° | THE PROMISE OF WINTER. Russia. “MY SEASON, I THINK.”

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DeceMBeER 1, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON THE WAY TO THE CITY OF LIGHT. Ir is not with the City of Light that I am concerned—sad City of Light, still shocked and perplexed, although steadfast enough, by GuILLAUME’s piti- less ambition ! My theme is the journey thither, which, no doubt with excellent reasons (for I am one of those few eccentric creatures who believe that Downing Street knows more and is wiser than Fleet Street), is being made increasingly difficult every day. For what does the. fair land of France, already so burdened by its own cares, want with civilian strangers, however noble their motives? The fewer, obvi- ously, the better. Getting to France, then, never very showed through the iron heel, is now an ordeal indeed. Let me _ indicate some of the stumbling-blocks. tion. Perhaps you went to Franec> a month or so ago properly attested by the various responsible War Office people. On the strength of their signatures you present yourself again, ‘‘ DROPPED ANYTHING ?”’ ‘‘ WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR, THEN?’’ easy since the cloven hoof of Prussia | To begin with there is the authorisa- | = - S IN DARKEST LONDON. passport in hand, at 19, Bedford Square, /naturally supposing that all is well. What was, is, you say. Never was there a more pathetic fallacy. What was, isn’t—that is the new verity, and no one knows more of new verities than the gentlemen at 19, Bedford Square. Are you acquainted with these gentle- men? If not, don’t be. They are granite, marble, crystal, petrified teak -everything that is hard and insus- ceptible. They deeply regret, but the authorisation is not in order. Since it was valid much has occurred; new regulations have come into play (“play ’”’ | is good); in short, you must get another. Is there no possibility of squeezing through without it? None. The port- cullis falls, the mountain closes ; in the idiom of the day, the lid is on. Probably, being a person of foresight, you had bought your ticket, taken seats, engaged a cabin, written to the hotel. Everything must now be can- celled, and there is nothing to do but wait the new authorisation. This you do, according to your philosophy. It may come in two days’ time; it may be a week; it may be a fortnight. One never knows in war-time, and, Ho." ‘* LEICESTER SQUARE.”’ anyway, who are you, with your slender Red Cross connection, compared with men who hold trenches and kill Ger- mans? Healing is secondary. This is war. While you are waiting . everything with you goes to pieces. You cxnnot make engagements, because at any moment your authorisation may come ; you cannot work, because you are so unsettled. Besides, you told everyone you were going, and to show up again is banal. You are therefore reduced to idleness and seclusion. This goes on for ten days, and then suddenly you are free to approach the geological museum at 19, Square once more, and your visa is given you, and all apparently is well until you notice that the route marked on the passport is vid Dieppe. “ But [ have my ticket vzd Boulogne,” you say brightly, expecting re-consider ation. “T am very sorry,” says Mr. Flint, “but the Boulogne route is closed for people going to Paris. You must go either by Dieppe or Havre.” You survey him blankly, remember- ing that the rough weather has set in Bedford |

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446 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Decemper 1, 1915, { - > v i i \} yt | Fair Visitor (to soldier wounded in his right arm). ‘‘Bur How LUCKY FOR YOU THAT YOU CAN WRITE WITH YOUR LEFT HAND.”’ Jock | I 9 Ali i it ‘* Ay, Miss, I’VE MA FAITHER TAE THANK. ‘Noo, Jock, YOU JIST LEARN TAE CUT YER FINGER-NAILS WI’ YER LEFT HAND, AN’ THEN It DISNA’ MATTER SAK MUCH IF YE LOSE YER RICHT ANE.’ ”’ ‘day, and the steamer does not get away until three hours after time, when the |sea is infinitely more lumpy. On the crossing it pitches and tosses away another good hour; so that (dropping a veil over the grisly horrors of the passage) you are not at Dieppe until i Once there, and — ——: eo |seven instead of four. | your passport, for the second time that | judged innocuous, you try to find a } | \ : \ Bi} | | \the second time that day, being ad- | bureau in the town; and here your only gleam of sunshine in a depressing day cheers you. you stop an English soldier—for Dieppe is full of A.S.C. men—and inquire 'where the Post-Office is. I give the dialogue verbatim :— Yourself. “Can you tell me where the Post-Office is? I want to send a telegram.” Mr. Atkins (in broad North Countree). “ Ah don’t know where it is. But will you give me a drink?” Yourself. “I'll give you a drink willingly if you ‘ll give me a Post-Office first.” Here 7. A. begins to shout, “Hi! Hi!” to some distant friends. They stop and shout back, “ What is it?” T. A. “Hi! Come back! Ah’ve found a moog.” Ee — that’s torn it. I'll find the Post-Office myself.” You then ask a Frenchman, find the way, and telegraph to your hotel that WHEN I WAs A WEE LAD HE SAYS, and you are the worst sailor in Europe.|who is rather good, but the rude He prepares his desk for the next applicant. Nothing more can be done, and you hurry out to telegraph again for seats and a cabin on the Dieppe route. The next day you rise early for the Folkestone train, the boat for Dieppe now sailing from Folkestone—an added hour of agony on the merciless sea— and reach the port punctually enough, only to learn that, owing to unexplained causes, there is no service to-day. To go back to London being absurd, you ' take a room at a Folkestone hotel and ' conscious with a certain dread sinking | and a terrible gale is imminent. | hope. A your train will be four to five hours late—a telegram which you subse- quently discover no one will dream of of any joy in that feat. In the night | delivering until to-morrow is growing you wake to find your worst fears | old. realised—the hotel is shaking in the} You then return to the station and tempest. You raise the blind in the| have what dinner you are able to forlorn hope that the blast is confined | swallow, and walk up and down wait- to the land and the sea is calm, and! ing for the train to start, which it does are swiftly disenchanted. You return! at nine-thirty, or forty-five minutes to bed and cannot sleep for the beating | after it was due to enter the Gare of your heart. | St. Lazare. The next morning fortifies your| . At last it gets off and, maintaining a worst terrors. The waves are moun- snail's pace, creeps into Paris at exactly tains high, but the boat is going, and | 2.20 a.m. buffetings at the window deprive you you have not the pluck not to join it. After all that has happened you simply | | | get through the day as best you can, must go. | | | that the wind is rising every minute) You hurry on board early to see if You | your cabin is reserved all right and find express your forebodings to fishermen | that your telegram arrived too late. . . . at the harbour, and they hold out no | Have I said enough to deter the stiffish storm is inevitable. | traveller to France ? You buy sevenpenny novels, and hate | ever, more to follow. them. You play billiards with any | | day, being viséd, and your baggage, for | ‘telegraph office, but learn that there is | | now nothing nearer than the head | Having asked the way and lost it, | Yourself. “ Mug! Oh no, my friend, | You can go to Tophet ; | Now who will lightly adventure | upon a visit to the once Gay City? Nor will you be missed if you don’t go. ‘« The following are transferred from Reserve to Regular Bns. as temp. officers, with dates é | of seniority as shown against their names :— There is, how- | R. Berks R.—Sec. Lieuts. . . .. A.J. G. Goodall (March 26, 1815).’’—Morning Paper. The train from London is late, there | How the Mess must be looking forward stranger humane enough to take you/is a double number of passengers to-|to this gallant veteran’s stories of | on. You beat a young Naval officer day, owing to the defection of yester- , Waterloo.

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| —s oe ate | 40 ot Il _ 0 io) 1e id | DeceMBeER 1, 1915.] TO A BAD CORRESPONDENT IN CAMP. To Lieutenant John Samp, 26th Regiment, The Canadian Camp, | East Sandlingborne, Kent | (Or anywhere else about England that the Regiment may have been sent). Drak Jonn,—All your kith And your kin (counting me) Are dissatisfied with The scant treatment that we Have received in the matter of letters since your transport in June put to sea. One brief note as you sailed Thanking me for the socks, And the picture-card mailed From the Liverpool docks, With two sheets to your mother from Reading, haven't busted the old letter-box. Now, if nothing is back Of your taciturn way | But congenital lack Of the right thing to say, | Here’s a little set form for your letters which you're welcome to use day | by day: Dear Moruer, | Aunt, Cousin I take pen in hand | In more health than I was in When not so much tanned | By our open-air marches and drillings in this fine soldier-fashioning land. | For some twenty-four hours, You'll be happy to know, We ’ve had plenty of showers | (Blizzards, sunshine, or snow— | The third item won't do for the night- time, but with long English days it may go We're just back to our huts From ten hours in the trench, | Route march, at the butts, Drilling, studying French And my brain [fongue, hand, eye} is so the bench. This county of Kent [The valley of Dee, The banks of the Trent, York, Salisbury, | You’ve a copious choice of encampment} At each moment one stops With a gasp of surprise ; gas} if The most exquisite hops (| Maidens, cowslips, pork-pies| —} ! i gather them often by armfuls—tfur- | nish ever a feast for the eyes. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. weary I could fall asleep here on is something I wish you could see. Mes: SRave * ODI ie FX A STATIONARY STUNT. P.O. (giving his views on the changes in the higher command at Kiel). “I pox’? ser | WHAT DIFFERENCE IT MAKES TO THEM, SIR, WHO’S IN COMMAND. WHY, A BLOOMIN’ | CHICKEN-FARMER COULD DO THE JOB AS IT STANDS.” Exclusive. ‘It is interesting to note that Messrs Ballantyne, Hanson and Co. were the printers of Sir Walter Scott’s novels, while in recent vears they have turned out Hall Caine’s works.’’—The Aberdeen Free Press. Down the green shady lanes Of the neighbouring park Float the tremulous strains Of the cuckoo [thrush, lark, | Newt, medlar, tench, cairngorm, or lamprey|, and my cares fly away as | hark. * RUSSIAN BLACK SEA MOVES.” | But this must be all, Daily Paper. For the bugles of camp Blow ;any old call) And I’m hearing the tramp Of the guard taking [any old duty], so remain, Yours, ete., J. Samp. There is now no longer any excuse for confusing it with the Dead Sea. | From a feuilleton :— ** Rupert, though he said nothing, doubted ! With this bit of advice, | his own ability to battle through those raging Which, unless I’m deceived wages. He had never swum in water.”’ , , Ought to have in a trice |We trust this does not mean that Rupert, like some other people affected by a rush of wages, is going to swim in beer. Your pen-palsy relieved, [ remain, your fond cousin, Priscrnua. P.S.—We have really been peeved.

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448 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [December 1, 1915, THE WATCH DOGS. XXX. My pear Cuartes,—The other day I was away at the far end of the area. I had phut-phutted a couple of dozen kilometres or so over care-worn roads and hackneyed side tracks, all amongst the motor-cars, motor-lorries, motor-ambulances, other motor bicycles as thrusting as my own, not to mention the silly egotistical hens which abound in these parts and have long ago lost what little sense they had in peace times. I arrived at my men’s billet at 12.52 p.m. to the moment, and a most convenient moment, too, as-you ’ll agree. Nobody appreciates more than I do the contrast between my present facilities and the housekeeping difficulties of the men in front, where the trouble is; and nobody sets out on his morning rounds with intentions more virtuous than mine. But virtue doesn’t flourish on a motor-bicycle, and when I arrive I find I have mislaid that conscience which should make me refrain from snafiling a slice of Uriah’s ewelamb. Uriah, bless hisyy soul, was out on this occasion, so there was nothing for it but to leave a message and return unfed, The Highland orderly was very nice and cheerful about it all, but didn’t touch on the food question. It is my business to know something about languages and I think I should have caught any reference to lunch even in his. So first I cursed my luck, and then I gave the old bicycle a kick and off we skidded back, over the same old hens, for home, where I was met with a request from Sergeant-Major for an interview at once. He gave me a chit, referring briefly and coldly to my leave. I told him that all previous opinions were cancelled and he was undoubtedly the finest Sergeant-Major who had ever managed to survive the dreadful business of being a Lance- Corporal. My leave was scheduled to begin on the following day; the following day was scheduled to begin at twelve mid- night, and I happened to know there was a boat scheduled to leave an hour or two before midnight, and I had no doubt of my ability to defeat the other sched- ules if I could only get to the port of em- bareation in time to do it. And to think that if Uriah had been at home and I had sat down with him to his old ewe- lamb (tinned at that) my chance would have been lost long before I’d got back to where Sergeant-Major and the leave-chits grow ! With never so much as a gas helmet (No. 2095B pattern) by way of kit, or a Park Drive Pest Virginia Gold Flake Cigarette » by way of ration, I seiaitd and offed, dropping a piece of mudguard at , other ballast at and at , and finally parting with my silencer at As to the last, I had for some time been aware of a suspici- ous noise, as it might be something about to happen, but I wasn’t being too inquisitive and officious about it. Once stop to inquire into the ailments of these machines and they ’ll pretend they re dead. In due course a lump of metal fell off with a clank, but came bounding along in the dark after us to join on again. But we left it to itself and proceeded so noisily that the little villages, twinkling in the valleys be- neath us, doused their lights at our ap- proach, mistaking us for hostile aircraft. When I had got my transport into a rest path and myself on the quay there were still a few minutes before the sailing of the boat. to meet a new face, but this was not the moment I should have chosen to run up against what seemed to be a couple or so of armies arriving. When I was safe past them at last I ran into a new thing in Majors, straggling be- hind. “Say, officer,” he said cheerily, “have you seen the boys anywhere?” “Everywhere,” said I. “Be an old dear,” he begged me, “‘and put me on tomy shemozzle. They ‘re the Egmon- ton Crush.” Had I had the time I would have inquired into this; as it was I told him briefly I’d just seen that identical regiment moving out of the harbour gates, and I set him doub- ling away in that direction. I often suspect, on reflection, that I’ve caused the old fellow to get mixed up in the wrong battle. For the moment my brain was fully occupied in writing a faithful description of myself in block letters on white cardboard, stating that I was not proceeding on duty and was anything but sick. Reaching England at last I fought for seats in the Pullman car. Being small I was among the winners. It was a difficult hour of the night for the food-people to compete with, but, not to be put off their hospitality by a little thing like that, they served breakfast on us before we knew what was hap- pening. The company that can do a large deal in eggs and bacon and mar- malade at 11.45 p.m. deserves to make its fortune, even if it be in five-franc | obeyed, saluted, Finally we found | ‘lieved in, for all your top-boots, dare- ourselves flung into the light and life | devil caps, red flannel tabs and eye- and laughter “which are prevalent at | | glasses—how many of you, just about a Victoria, S.W., at 2 a.m. on a Sunday! week ago, were being sent (sent, mark | you) round to the potting- -shed to say No doubt we are sent back to England | a word, any word would do, to the old, from time to time like this in order to, ‘old man who works there, and knew Out here we are _you in long clothes, and would be heart- | apt not to notice how rapidly and_ broken not to be called upon. Anyway, it’s | notes, slightly soiled. morning in war-time. check our optimism. cnpeeiety we are sosing. IT am always glad | a gay welcome we get from London, Charles. For myself it was the second time, and I knew what to expect. My young companion of the hour was in- clined to think that no one loved him and he’d much better go back to the trenches and eat worms. The police- men, upon being hailed, didn’t respond ; they were very dignified, even sus- picious. Four hotels refused to let him so much as lie down on the tessellated floors of their marble halls, and the fifth only took him in because we threatened them with legal proceedings if they didn’t. It was our threat alone which recalled to the mind of Gold Evening Dress that he had a room vacant. The price of one night in that room was equivalent to the subaltern’s wages for three days in the mud; we proposed that it should be halved, because there was only half the night left, but it remained double because there were two beds in the room. When my friend agreed to that, or anything else, he was asked whether he had any luggage; and when we explained that he’d started out with | his suit-case and top-hat box in one hand and his cabin trunk and golf clubs in the other, but had given the lot to a poor man who sat begging at the corner of a communication trench, the official, puffed up as he was with pride and regular meals, insisted upon being paid in advance. This is a true story, Charles, and if you want to go round and discuss it with the man, I'll give you his address and half-a-dozen hand- grenades to explain yourself with. But at home how different! I believe, when we come back again in the dead of winter, they'll still produce that last dish of green peas fresh from the garden, “kept back aposiet for you, Master Henry...’ Ah! _ there ’s | little to be said, but lots to be thought. | And then it was all so short, so soon | over; but what there was (as Mr. Grorcr Roney says) was good. When I found myself back at Victoria I considered the gathering of officers, all great but some greater than the others, and I wondered to myself, how many of you, for ali your greatness and dignity, your importance on parade, your habit of commanding and being deferred to and be- Yours ever, HEnry.

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ul we MS Ne ree ell Om 1+ SS eee SF | | December 1, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. Territorial Driver (getting dangerously near the sea). ‘*’ALT, CARN’T YER? I’M ONLY FOR HOME SERVICE, IF rou AIN’T!”’ THE STRAFING OF STRAUSS. (By an All-British Composer). Herr RicHarp Srravss’s latest piece of frightfulness, “ An Alpine Symphony ” (referred to in Mr. Punch’s Almanack), may be regarded as a direct challenge to British composers in general, and inyself in particular. Accordingly, by way of reprisal, 1 am producing a work which is to be absolutely the last word. As I anticipate that a description of it would be too much even for the analytical genius of Mrs. Rosa Nrw- MARCH, I furnish one myself, and am giving the readers of Punch the benefit of it in advance. It is a Typographic Tone-Poem in four paragraphs, to be known as The Printing Symphony. The orchestra will be considerably augmented, the reinforcements com- prising six Typewriters, a Telephone, two Linotypes, an Ey Autoplate, four Large Picas, a Long Primer, three Double Octavos and two Double Sext- uple Rotaries (by kind permission of Associated Newspapers, Ltd.). An impressive introduction by the Double Octavos is followed by an allegretto con grazia ma non troppo in 15-16 time, scored as a double trio for the Typewriters, with Telephone obbligato. As might be expected in so advanced a work, no shift key signa- ture is given. The movement comes to an abrupt stop, the second para- the MS. has been accepted and will be | Rotaries, and finally comes to an over- graph beginning with an announcement | nor key signatures being given, until it \(recitativo) by the Long Primer that reaches a climax with the entry of the proceeded with. | whelming conclusion on the seventh | This statement is made the subject | inversion of the chord of the Submerged of a lively fugue (alla brevier), begun | by the strings and wood wind; at the|the best principles of modern Caco- sixth bar the Linotypes enter with a} phony, being “ left to evaporate.” counter motive suggestive of the Dia-| The work is to be performed shortly volo d’' Imprimatore, to which reference | at the Caxton Hall. is made at intervals throughout the work. The third movement begins with a quartet for the Picas, andante canta- | bile, displaying to the full the mellow Hard Times in the West Indies. ‘‘Among the lot of Eatables supplied ex recent arrivals are the following :— Lucas Best Fire Bricks. Lucas Best Tapered | beauty of this noble family of instru-| Bricks. Best Bristol Hand Picked Temper . ’ Lime. Steam Pipes } to 4” dia. with fittings. ;ments, accompanied pianissimo by the rest of the orchestra, which at the two hundred and forty-third bar have just made a brief quotation from the Typewriter theme, when the Autoplate enters with a triumphant roar, and after chasing the Picas away in a succession of minor sevenths and thereby establishing a personal ascend- ency, dominates the proceedings for the remainder of the movement, which ends in a series of massive chords, an- nouncing (con forza) that he’s there because he’s there, an excerpt being imade at tiis point from the popular marching song. The fourth paragraph opens with a short résumé of the preceding subjects ; | the music then becomes wilder (allegro | furiosissimo inespressibiie), neither time | Pig Lead. Blue Grit Grindstones. Sheet Copper.’’—Daily Gleaner (Jamaica), ‘«This big tract of land, if placed at the dis- until the owners actually require it for build- ing or otherwise, would enable nearly 200,000 men to cultivate all the vegetables needed by an average family of, say, five persons.’’ Morning Paper. Are vegetarians so voracious ? ‘« The simple folk of Devon and Cornwall, it is said, maintain that the shades of Drake and Nelson have returned to earth to inspire their successors to emulate their triumphs, and it is on record that from May, 1803, to August, 1905, Nelson was out of his ship but three times.’’—-The Malay Mail. A pity he couldn’t stay there another ten years or so, though, of course, the Fleet still has the ‘‘ Nelson touch.” Tenth, the discord, in accordance with | posal of men ready and willing to cultivate it |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON. CHARIVARI. [DecemBer 1, 1915, Mistress. Maid. ‘‘ Yrs, M’m; ‘“WHAT DO YOU MEAN? cl | | ( M ee ra | Maid. ‘‘ PLease, M’m, You DIDN’T LEAVE ENOUGH FOR THE SWEEP.”’ I GAVE’ YOU A SHILLING.”’ BUT THE SWEEP SAYS CHIMNEYS IS GONE UP.”’ TWITTING THE TURK. II. Wirn faces flushed and eyes like wine The men sat mute along the line, And some polemical design Was palpably in view ; A flare soared sudden through the murk ; Turk And shouted all they knew. No ordered cheer, but each man cried The sound on which he most relied, Or just invoked the Soccer side Of which he once was proud ; A milkman happily “ Milk-o’d,” Myself I simply said, ‘ Well rowed!” But said it very loud. A wilder din you will not meet ; It hit the hills, it shocked the Fleet, And many a brave heart dropped a beat To hear the hideous choir, While the pale Turk, with lips tight set, Peered out across the parapet And opened rapid fire. For it was clear the Christian cur Intended something sinister, And Pashas hastened to confer On that hypothesis ; Stout souls, they felt prepared to cope With stratagems within their scope, But, Allah, what was this ? | Far down the lines the Faithful heard | And had no notion what occurred, | But plied their triggers, undeterred | By trifles such as that ; | From sea to sea the tumult spread, | Nor could a single man have said What he was shooting at. They turned unflinching toward the | | Then spoke the guns, and gave it hot | To the offensive choric spot Had long since ceased to be ; And even Asiatic Anne Disgorged a bolt of monstrous plan, Which fell into the sea. | I would that night Byzantium Had been at hand to hear the hum And count the cost, a fearful sum, Of so much §.A.A., | For no one but the Moslem knows | The way the ammunition goes When he is on his day. And what of those whose mad caprice Had frightened half the Chersonese ? Did they, repentant, know no peace, And, when at dawn there crept A sheepish hush o’er crag and glen, Pray that they might be better men ? | Instead of that they slept. And a despatch, in pleasing wise, | Spoke of “a daring enterpr se | Against some enemy supplies,” | Where we, who shrank from being shot, Adding this tragic note :— “ The casualties of the force Were sixty men extremely hoarse And one severe sore throat.” | ‘*Guillotine Cutter, for bindery department : also Man, for despatch ; ineligible for Army.”’ Liverpool Echo. We hope the Germans will not learn | how we dispose of the surplus popula- | | tion. | ‘© Of the many stories related of the Prince’s doings in France, the most interesting was contained in a letter from a soldier who told how his Royal Highness left his motorcar during the battle at Loos in order to examine the’situation, and, on returning to the spot. where the car had remained, found that it had been destroyed by a chance shell. Unfortu- nately there is no confirmation of this story.’’ | Evening Pape ’, We note the word “ unfortunately.” It |confirms our view that sub-editors, as a class, always put their own interests | before anybody else’s. ‘“ STRANDVILLE II. v. St. James’ Gate IIT. Played this evening at Croydon Park before a small crowd of spectators. . the Greek | Government took note of the Strandville IT.” | Dublin Evening Mail. A welcome intimation that Greece is | going to play the game.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Decemser 1, 1915. Ls Se a ae a ea aan EE e a a DG a cr we ae I OE LLL —— ea pp? Ons war OPPS LMS ee —— — a ——. Ue K. PRIVILEG Peer, to M.P. (pointing to War Correspondent). “POOR DEVIL! HE COULD HAVE OF US ONE ‘D BEEN HE IF LIKED.” SAID ANYTHING HE + 4

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| va a ee oe, ee ma FPN Sem we Rees A DS em PRS SBU BRA OH os Ssh | SO eS citi

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wil DeceMBeER 1, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LO ONL ON CHARIVARL 453 ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. (EXTRACTED FROM THE Diary oF Tosy, M.P.) House of Commons, Monday, Novem- ber 22nd.—Emulating patriotic example of the Lords, Commons began the week with sitting to-day. Premier and three Cabinet colleagues, safely back after perilous Channel crossing, warmly wel- comed. Von Tirrrrz left gnashing his teeth in disappointment at lost oppor- tunity. To have wiped out Prime Mints- TER, ForEIGN SEcRETARY, First Lorp or Apmrratty and Minister oF Munti- tions by one blow dealt from heavens above the earth or from waters beneath it, would have been stroke of Kultur more pleasing in Berlin even than sinking of Lusitania. Appointed business being further consideration in Com- mittee of Budget Bill, attend- ance scanty; proceedings prosaic. CHANCELLOR OF EXxcHEQUER informed Com- mittee that sale of scrip vouchers of War Loan in small denominations amounted to five . millions sterling. Submitted fresh proposals for making invest- ment more attractive to | Wage-earner. At Question time TENNANT | made interesting statement | with respect to comparative | | salubrity of life under canvas and under system of billet- ing. Doctors in charge of recruits report that when men quit tents and go into billets serious amount of sick- ness forthwith develops. “Under canvas it is much more healthy.” grind slowly in Committee. long sitting devoted to process. Tuesday.—House still economy-hunt- ing. Thought it had “found” | the other day vacancy created on Equity Bench by retirement of Mr. Justice Joycr. Evidence forthcoming that state of business in Chancery Court could be easily carried on with remaining judicial forces. immediately put on paper up vacancy and so save £5,000 a year. paralleled activity. In reply PREMIER enabled to announce that a new judge had already been appointed. However, there was another oppor- tunity of saving the lesser sum of two thousand a year by indefinitely defer- | ring appointment of successor to what 'the Grenadier Guards and now serving Business done.—Mills of Budget Bill | Another | rode off on his consecrated reply that ‘the matter is receiving my closest when | Question | inviting |This trifle been paid since the War|that business on hand could not be Prime Minister to refrain from filling | | began. | included firing, lighting and caretaking. | This stirred high authorities to un- Still, when you come to think of it | day a week when Providence had placed |__which the War Office are beginning | Major WINstTon CHURCHILL, attached to | in the trenches, described as a well-paid post of inactivity. Office of Chancellor of Duchy of Lancaster with seat in Cabinet recognised as place of honour- able retirement from active work suit- able for veteran statesmen like JoHN BricHt or Wryston. Most appro- priately PENNEFATHER (Heraldic motto of this ancient family: “ Take care of your pennies and your father will look out for himself’) put up to suggest that should it be deemed necessary to appoint a new Chancellor the Government might set an example in economy by reducing the salary of their new colleague. This the sort of thing calculated to appeal to body of gentlemen whose! ent es | HH HTT i il HN PROPOSED CHRISTMAS PRESENT TO OUR HARD-WORKED PREMIER, FOR USE AT QUESTION-TIME. [Subscriptions already received from Hoacer, Cooke (twice), Rees, Dauzret and WILL THORNE.] PRINGLE, salaries, fixed on scale arranged in| peace time, are assured. PREMIER attention.” valent at public banquets. Baruurst, | spokesman of people of small means | officially enjoined to practise economy, suggested that during the War all such functions as the Lorp Mayor’s Banquet in London and the Dolphin and Colston Banquets in Bristol shall be discon- ’ tinued. Premier full of sympathy. But, really, this was a matter in which individuals and public bodies must exercise their own discretion. This varied programme of economies for use of other people looked hopeful as seeming to lead up to a development | in respect of which the public are keenly expectant. Economy like charity | should begin at home. When House of Commons voluntarily relinquishes, during continuance of the War, salaries which only the other day, in time of profound peace and unbounded prosperity, were conferred in breach of hon- tive Assemblies, its cry for economy will become more effectual. Business done. — Budget Bill at last through Report stage. Remains only to be read a third time. Wednesday. — Pretty full gathering when SPEAKER took the Chair. Many attracted by anticipation that, in accordance with notice, Homer would introduce Bill sus- pending Parliament Act, and so avoid dissolution in January. Answering urbane LEADER OF OPPOSITION, PRE- MIER stated that introduction is postponed till next week. KINLOCH- ourable and time-honoured | distinction among Legisla- | SECRETARY | | Whereupon Members went out into | the Lobby and tea-room to guess what this postponement might portend. Business done.—With assistance of considerably less than a quorum several Thus repulsed on two favourable lines | small Bills advanced a stage. Adjourned | of attack the economists turned off on other track. It appears that the Head- offices leased at Station Hotel at an annual rent of £410 per annum. Forster pleaded that sum to do on 112th day of the second year of the War—it seems a bit stiff. “Other premises,” he added, “ are now ‘under consideration.” . More blessed than word Mesopotamia is the phrase “ under consideration.” Attention next turned to luxury pre- | an extra day’s work. at twenty-five minutes past SIX, Thursday.—On motion for adjourn- from various authoritative quarters | quarter Staff located at Hull endeavour | ment till Tuesday, Henry Dawzien, |to make themselves comfortable in never weary of well-doing, pleaded for “Why not meet Reckoned on Monday?” he asked. disposed of otherwise than by sitting | ‘up to Christmas Eve. Why waste a it at their disposal ? Impetuous MarkKHAM went one better. Suggested that House should sit continuously and merely adjourn |for one day at Christmas, returning on Boxing Day with renewed strength to deal with forthcoming Derby Report on question of Recruiting.

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454

[DecemBer 1, 1915,

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL

er) : <= a ;

| i iff iit | bile Hl 4 / it | a Vian! (} itt} E peas | Af 1 | i / if e ant i . 1 Hi | t : | i i ] i ] | \ | , : ( | « | t H ( ( i i! | |

MANS pqs Tommy (finding a German prisoner who speaks English). “Look wor YOU DONE TO ME, YOU BLIGHTERS!

"ERE—’AVE A CIGARETTE ?”

=z

Premier, happily undisturbed by TO BILL, AGED SIX | Tool-houses, chalk-pits, hollow trees, grievous prognostications of overbur- | oe anes | And caves explored on hands and knees; | _ dened Legislature seamping its work (as ALTHOUGH I’m just ten times his age | But always when the gong’s vibrations | mentioned, haying finished appointed | And long have cut, upon life’s stage, | Recall us from our divagations, Bill makes me proinise not to talk To anyone about our walk : _ task, it adjourned yesterday at twenty- | A figure quite austere and sage— | “« Remember it’s a secret ’’—so Homeward the two explorers go.

five minutes past six), cheerily sentoata When will is pitted against will | perturbed House that before proroga- I am the abject slave of Bill. tion ample opportunity will be given) ,,. a i | oe li . I ae PP ee y P ati 6 f His parents are my lifelong friends x discussion of every question of). 4/5 Payee iret alii tabiinoh . nd often ask me for week-ends, u Business I o Waesven Lene inte | But, though his father is my host, Oe ont ee an, | e's ee Chak really rules the roast, duces Bill to restrict during War the neal: Gallen ® iin aus tae Mineaiine Z 2 as s ses rents of small house- property and Tit, ta wnt ol + heed of a . 1S all a be ses. interest payable on mortgages of such ~ property. With at least four more hours in hand for working out salva- tion of the country, House adjourned | at twenty-five minutes to eight, in Yet may the old and the unfit Win in his company relief From sharp anxiety or grief : For Bill no dismal paper reads That mutinous misgiving breeds ; He never talks about the War, | But he is rich in fairy lore ; His laugh is my best anodyne, is | Bill is a tyrant, I admit, | | | If it is wet a tale of bricks Is given me to pile and fix, And when the structure stands on high, With not a single brick awry, - . “ ; is ignor: 21s hs ivine 7 good time for dinner. The fabric, as my labour’s crown, His setaanenge half divine, — : For Heaven still close about him lies : Bill has the right of knocking down, Intelligent Retrospection. | While I must gather up the blocks Jews’ Coutecr. —The next examination | And pack them neatly in their box. | of persons intending te become teachers of | Released from Architecture’s claims Hebrew and Religion will be held at the | We turn to our Olympic games, ‘ollege » 2rd: Q arv last.’ Se ss S “ College on the 23rd and ee Oheny With Bill as driver, me as horse, .., Pursuing our erratic course | ‘*At noon yesterday a meeting of the full Datensen the tables and the chair Cabinet will be held at 10, Downing Street.”’ | etween the tables and the chairs, | Or even up and down the stairs, | Bristol Times and Mirror. ‘ e | Until the midday meal draws near, And nurse removes my charioteer.

And has not faded from his eyes.

A New Zneid. ‘The story of the midnight virgil of three detectives in the Minchin Motor Works at Kingston was told to-day before the local magistrates.’’—Evrening Paper. ‘*The British submarines’ effective control of enemy traffic in the Baltic is reported from Germany to be most annoying for German commerce, especially as the German Admiralty firmly believed they had made the Baltic a | mare clausa.”—Evening Paper. This false coneord bodes ill for a genu- ine peace.

| ‘Asaresult of the Vincent-Fitzgerald fight, | Fitzgerald sustained a broken right jaw and a fractured left jaw.”’ The Cairns Post (Queensland).

| But, if the weather's bright and fair, Bill hales me forth to take the air; We hope the injured pugilist appreci-. He makes me run exhausting races ated this delicate distinction. And visit all his fay’rite places—

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at al ‘ol | m mn |

eee

DeceMBER 1, 1915.] 1 SUMPTUARY LAWS. Dear Mr. Puncu,—On the principle that the best brains in the country should be at the disposal of the Gov- ernment at the present crisis, I feel it my duty to make a few suggestions on the economic situation. You may take it from me that we can afford to win if I may be allowed to show us how. But it may be a tight squeak, and there is only one way to do it. That is by killing two birds with one stone ; other- | wise we shall soon be short of stones. | While, Sir, we pursue as a nation a| single aim, it -is just as well in all) details of the enterprise to have a double object in view. I am very glad to see that one member of the House | of Commons has employed himself in| devising projects which, while they | have essentially a fiscal intention, are also meant to nip luxury in the bud and put the brake on extravagance. He wants to levy a tax of five shil-| lings in the pound on all hand-reared | pheasants, and soon we may look for | the institution of a new and _ pictur- esque Pheasant Licence. Any unli- censed bird that gets into the bag} might well be claimed by the local Red | Cross Hospital, thus giving the tax) | a third desirable tendency. <A rebate | would no doubt be allowed on all such | |as died a natural death, and if there | | was any difference of opinion on that | point the bird could be submitted to a | post-mortem, for which a small fee | | would be charged. (Licensed birds | would have to wear a badge or leglet.) | | Then again, in view of the shortage | of milk, it is proposed that Cat Licences be issued at a guinea a time, except in cases where a cat is kept solely for the destruction of mice. | This is another excellent idea. But there is bound to be a considerable | loop-hole of escape unless the cat is ; called upon to make good. Many so- | | called mousers are mere pets. A| | demonstration could be arranged with Government mice. | Mouse Licence might be imposed upon | all Freehold Cat Keepers which would | | have the effect (besides bringing in | revenue) of keeping the cat up to its work in clearing the house of them. |} Much ean be done along these lines. | This is no more than a promising | beginning. If cats are to be licensed the cases of the mongoose and the guinea-pig must come up for recon- sideration. Further, Sir, anything that tends to give a man a distaste for his own fire- side by robbing him of the solace and companionship of his domestic pets cannot but operate in the direction of improved recruiting returns.

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL.

First Burglar. ‘‘ Discriczrut, I catty rr! OUGHT TER BE IN THE ARMY.”

"IM GREAT ’EFTY YOUNG FELLER LIKE

Or, simpler still, a| ‘out of deference to our Allies). ception to be made in favour of such} (Known | Working on these lines I should be inclined to levy a duty on: (1) Canaries, which are notorious consumers of seeds that might other- wise be used for the upbringing of edible and egg-laying fowls. All’ canaries should be taxed, with the exception of those that have been trained as_ fly - catchers. specially (These would be known as Controlled | Canaries.) (2) Tame Rapsirs AND HAReEs (Bel- | gian Hares would of course ke excused An ex- as are designed for the table. as Exempted Rabbits or Hares.) (3) Gouprisn. — In this case per- haps the Licence duty should only lapply te such as go beyond the number of two in any one household. We |must have something to brighten our ‘homes, after all. (Or at least these two ‘might be placed in a later group.) (4) Sruxworms. — Except such as are engaged in spinning khaki silk, suitable for searves. (These would be starred.) There can be little doubt that such wise and considerate taxation would | have the effect of raising money, con- serving the food supply, assisting voluntary enlistinent and bridging the gap between exports and imports. [am yet again Yours, STATISTICIAN.

| Tactless. ‘* Plain Typist Wanted (female).’’ | Morning Paper.

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_ disappearing, the O,C. com- | | pany was just indenting’ for a D.S.O. with two’ | clasps, when an order: arrived saying, with the | all military orders, that the | | wired for material for dug-outs. | heating. This time we did not wait to | wire. _ dishevelled ruins of § 245 and brought | began, and used-it-in the braziers of | trenches, have you in England heard | pervened. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON -_CHARIVARI. [DEcEMBER 1, 1915. AT THE FRONT. THERE’s really nothing I hate talk- ing about more, but, talking about yet of the awful case of S 245? Well, we took over S 245 with two platoons and instructions to “ make it good.” Having inspected it we wrote out a curt little chit to the effect that we weren't a reformatory, and then tore it up. By using all the material sent to us, by stealing all the ~~ material sent to adjacent companies, battalions and brigades, by devastating farmhouses and _ stripping bare all the R.E. material dumps*within two miles of the line, we made that! sodden chaos of shell craters into a recognisable trench. | Finally, when it had stood two nights’ rain without brief ambiguity natural to | two platoons holding S 245 would proceed to take over | S 246. Having satisfied himself, that this involved the de- | sertion of S 245 he laughed | sardonically, ground _his| teeth, ordered the bearer of the message to be shot at midnight (if the Q.M. had sent up enough candles), and went to look at S 246. S 246 was just what S 245 arrived next morning, “5S 245 to be re- constructed and occupied as soon as possible.” You people who compete for having been most directly under the Zeppelins are not the only ones. I was sitting, the other afternoon, in a somnolent condition watching the humid disin- tegration of the mess dug-out when there was a rushing through the air from above, and a noise like someone lifting the plug of _an enormous bath, - oD - se ¢ | had been, only, of course, ‘i one worse. We got to work on it;) but then a new factor su- All available material had already been put into § 245, so we wired for more stuft for revet-|— BASEMENT.”’ ments. To this we got the answer, “‘ Use material from § 245, which is now to be scrapped.” Having used this we There was none available through the ordin- ary channels, but we were referred to S$ 245. We did what we could. Then arose the urgent question of We dug into the shattered and up everyfragment of woodwork that had been therein sunk since the War S 246 tothe last fibre. Having taken this rash step we had no right to ) be shocked at the was that followed by another like Vesuvius ex- ploding bodily. I went outside when the lava had stopped coming down and found that a trench mortar had dropped a young mine about the size of a hotel three yards off the dug-out. will swear it wasn’t as much as thirty. I spent the rest of the afternoon with At least I | Mr. Johnkins (who has overslept himself). ‘‘Ha, THE ZEPPELINS AT Last! WELL, I’m GLAD I INSISTED ON EVERYONE SLEEPING IN THE | Prof. E. H. Starling, F.R.S.’’ the signallers, cajoling a battery into some warlike act, while twenty-three | further devils descended within a few yards of the first. After “Stand to,” O.C. right company. “Do you know,” ‘em in just aoinde our mess all the after- came along the rate (74d. per 1000) was the lowest: of any he said, ‘that con- | founded trench mortar was plugging This accounts, of course, for the small | passing generals and practically (but noon?” I admitted I had heard seme explosions. Next I met O.C. left com- pany (mine was centre). “It’s extra- ordinary,” he said, “that our guns can’t get straight on to a thing like that. The beggar was dropping them practically into my dug-out from half- past two to half-past four.” I was duly scandalized and sympathe'ic. Later on I learned that the mortar had nearly (but not quite) massacred two not quite) wrecked head- quarters; and eventually mine was the only sector for some miles round which did not report heavy bomb- ardment. I-had- originally thought out a rather effec- tive little brochure about it all, but, with everyone else suffering so, it seemed up to us to keep our own woes dark. But it was a rare lesson in the human instinct of borrowing trouble be- cause mourning suits you. Atkins is really best when an ordinary mortal might be contemplating suicide or ‘desertion. From a mile behind our line runs a communication trench ‘named Muddy Lane. In |parts it is excellent. In parts you go in, during rainy weather, up to your = middle. One night, after it had been pouring for some weeks, a fatigue staggered up this appalling swamp, carrying out-size hurdles weighing about eight hun- dred-weight apiece, brought ‘from a good two miles back. As they arrived in the fire trench, grunting and sweat- ing and looking — if one could have seen them—like a wet landslide, the last but one turned to the last man | —_____' and observed reflectively, “I wonder now, Bill, wot made them call this ‘ere Muddy Lane?” From a list of papers read at the ‘*The Bird’s Heart. Communicated by He should know all about it. ‘«The State of Kansas had for 30 years had the benefit of prohibition, and there the death- place on the face of the civilised globe.’’ Bromley Chronicle. change in the population. ere

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ud ny ll DecemBER 1, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. FASHIONABLE MOTHER IS STRICKEN WITH REMORSE BY THE CRY OF HER CHILDREN: ‘‘OH, MUMMY, WHY CAN'T WE HAVE SOME NEW CLOTHES?”’ AND SHARES HER NEW DRESS WITH THE FAMILY.

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458 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL [DecemBer 1, 1915, A LETTER FROM GRETCHEN. Berlin. Dearest Evsa,—We are very gay and brilliant here—opera, theatres, dinners and dances, and flags fluttering and bells ringing constantly for some new triumph. The last occasion was two days ago, when we were told the glorious news that our brave troops are at Calais and have fired great guns across the Channel and reduced Dover to a little heap of rubbish, as it well deserves. Our dear Katser often pays a brief visit to the Schloss. He is so busy, my Elsa, so busy preparing for the wonderful times that are coming when our triumph is complete. Our Princes are all going to be Kings, and our great Kaiser has not only arranged about their kingdoms but has found time even to design their crowns, and also a new, splendid, very large crown for himself when he shall take his new title, Emperor of Everywhere. That wretched Britain is to be broken up into three kingdoms again ; and besides these there will bé many kingdoms to be given away. When all our Princes are provided for, our adored von HINDEN- BURG and our brave VON MACKENSEN will each be King of somewhere; our von Trrpitz was also to have been a King, but there has been a little altera- tion of plans lately, and he will perhaps be only a Viceroy. Ach, liebe Freundin! How my heart swells with pride and joy to think I am a German girl! I give a little “Hoch! Hoch!” all to myself some- times. I had the honour and happiness to meet one of our Princes at a recep- tion the other night. You will guess which of them it was when I tell you that at first he graciously refused to ! . dance, and sat on a couch, making comments on the dancers and laughing —laughing so loud in his own charm- ing way; and then he jumped up, snatched me from my partner (me! your Gretchen), and said I was the only pretty girl in the room and danced with me himself. He said many gallant things to me, and I ventured to ask him by what title we shall know him when the War is over. He laughed very loud and said, “If I’m a good boy Father will give me Russia, but if I’m a bad boy he’ll only give! me Scotland or Ireland”; and he laughed louder than ever and whirled me so fast that, proud and happy as I little tanzfest for Sigismund and me. | Suitable for caravanning. felt, meine Theure, I was not quite sorry when the dance was over. bosch has been in great trouble. Her youngest son, the Hauptmann Karl, of the Prussian Guards, is a prisoner in 7 | ° | barbarous England, and she heard that own shameful country) to do my hair! he was made to go on all fours and} My Bavarian maid, Bertha, was even {draw a great wagon full of stones all! clumsier than usual, and when I looked | day, and was beaten with sticks! The | | | Freifrau was like a mad woman, her | big fists clenched and her eyes glaring; What have you done with all my (even we, her relations, dared not go | beautiful hair?” I exclaimed, and I near her), and she drove to the Schloss and threw herself on her knees and tore her transformation and her mantelehen, that avon Bundelbosch is to be turned into a dray-horse and beaten with sticks?” Our noble Kaiser promised to see to it, but that very day a letter came from the Hauptmann Karl. He wrote from a place called Bonnington Hall, and told his Miitterchen that he is well, has enough to eat, a good bed, a servant to wait on him, a piano to play (so that he can accompany himself when he sings the “ Hymn of Hate”), billiards and tennis, and a large park to walk in. getting fat, that he is bored, and that they give him beef and mutton in spite of his demands for pork! Cruel bar- barous islanders! It makes one’s blood boil to think that they look on while an officer of the Prussian Guard loses his beautiful waist and suffers bore- dom and that they give him beef and mutton when he loves: pork better! But the Hauptmann Karl will be avenged soon. My Sigismund came to Berlin on leave two days ago. He looks well and handsome, and has won an Iron Cross (I am particularly glad of this, as otherwise he would have been the only man in Berlin without one). He tells me we can crush our enemies and end the War any day we please. I said, “Then why not do it at once, my Sigismund?” But he says there are good reasons of a private nature for not doing it quite at once. He hurt me a little by looking me over and saying, ‘“ Girl of my heart, you have become a dowdy. Gott in Himmel! What a costume, and what ahat!” I said, ** You do not speak like a kind betrothed or like a good German, my Miindchen, and you even come near to speaking lése-majesté. All foreign modes are now verboten. These are our German autumn fashions, de- signed, even to the hats and boots, by our noble KatsEr himself!” | My Grossmiitterchen, the Griifin von Dumpfendorf - Mumpenberg, gave a | I was very, very anxious to look charm- stead of a Schmidt-Miiller gown. ae I could have had the wicked Niniche (who was sent back to her| and cried, “ Majesty, is it to be borne| But he complains bitterly | that he has nothing to do, that he is | ing, so I took my life in my hand and | The Dowager Freifrau von Bundel-|wore a smuggled Deucet creation in- lection of war trophies in London. It is gg #4 i at myself at the mirror, ach Himmel! Tlost my temper. “Pig of a Bavarian! slapped her stupid face and made her weep. Chide me, my Elsa, for I deserve it. I, a von Dumpfendorf- Mumpenberg, to forget myself thus ! It was a so-happy evening. My Sigismund did not look at me critically any more. He seemed to think me quite chic—no, no! we are never to say that wicked word again. Instead of chic we are always to say zudem- neuestenundfeinstenstilgehorig. Ever thine, GRETCHEN. THE DIRCE OF THE DRESS-COAT. (‘Evening dress optional but unfashionable.” West End Theatre announcement. } Let us rise up and part, O vest and bags, ; My brethren in the trio of “glad rags”; Our fashionable reign is dead as mutton The butcher’s knife has carven into scrags ; We are démodés, cloth and thread and button ; Our brilliance fades, our shapely out- line sags, O vest and bags. Let us give up, old things, let us decease. No longer now the splendour of your | crease Appeals, O bags, to Algernon or Bert; No more, O vest, as in the hour of peace, | Your sable curves enframe the bright “boiled shirt ”’ ; When London says “A merciful release !”’ Let us decease. But haply we may find a haven yet | Ere from the earth we ultimately “get”; | Some red-nosed mirth-provoker of | the Halls | May wear us still for fun; or, being set | Beside a chimney hat within the | walls Of some museum, we may find “to let A haven yet! ” A ‘*Roomy” Car. ‘*MOTOR CARS, CYCLES, Berston, Humber-road, double fronted, two reception, six bedrooms.”’ Nottingham Guardian. ‘This mine has just been added to the col- growing daily.’’—Daily Mirror. This is very alarming. We trust it won't burst.

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of ot | — Tee EN LE | Decemser 1, 1915.| | PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 459 SvMR WALA SSW . = = = Highland Lass (to wartime postman). ‘‘ Hoo ARE YE LIKIN’ YER JoB, SANDY?” Sandy. ‘‘No ava! Hoo waD rou LIKE TAE WALK SAX MILE UP THE GLEN WI’ NAETHIN’ BUT YIN PICTURE-POSTCAIRD FOR A BIT LASSIE’S COLLECTION ?”’ I have myself read it three times with increasing admira- OUR BOOKING-OFFICE, tion. For this alone Between the Lines would be a book (By Mr. Punch’s Staff of Learned Clerks.) that no one should miss. A LITTLE while ago I remember writing that each of the ee annem eran war-books now jostling one another from the Press had| The Princess CATHERINE RapzIwiut has written, Messrs. its individual and special excellence. That of Between the|CassELL have published, and I have read Sovereigns and Lines (Smiru, Exper) I should set down as realisation for| Statesmen of Europe, a stalwart book illustrated with eight the stay-at-home of actual fighting under modern conditions. | photogravures and priced at 10s. 6d. net. Of these three Many of the other war chroniclers deal only sparingly with | achievements mine is, perhaps, the most noteworthy, for in the absolute killing and being killed that are at the heart of| regard to style and interest it must be said that the book the whole hideous business. Not so the writer who calls| does but little to help the reader who comes to it with a himself Boyp Case, and who (as he tells us in his Preface) | desire to be initiated into the mazes and mysteries of has composed this book, all of it, within sound of the| European diplomacy and to learn the qualities of those German guns and for the most part within shell and ritle| who have lately directed it to such calamitous issues. For range. His especial aim has been to explain “ what lies| instance, it does not carry me any further in my know- behind and goes to the making of these curt and vague|ledge of Russia to be told that M. Koxovrsov “has an terms in the war communiqués.” To this end many of| exaggerated idea of his facility in speaking foreign languages his chapters (which you may remember in The Cornhill or|—a trait which is noticeable among other middle-class The Westminster) are headed by one of those phrases which, | people whose early surroundings did not entitle them to though use has now made them familiar, remain mysterious | the right of expressing themselves in any other idiom than to us who only see the War through reports darkly.|their own. It is the saddest part of M. Koxovtsov that he “ Artillery Support,” “ Advanced Trenches,” ‘“ Nothing to| is middle-class, in spite of all his efforts not to appear so.” Report’’—these are the words that he has translated into| Again in the pages devoted to M. Vivian1 we learn that a pictures so vivid that at times the roar and reek, the whole) certain lady said of him that he would go far “ because the terrific nerve-wracking tension of trench-warfare seems to| first time I saw him he was still eating with his knife, leap out at you from the pages. It is a terrible and thrilling | whilst yesterday he did not even attempt to do so with his glossary that will be read and re-read in countless homes. | fish-knife.” This unexpected remark is said by the Princess One chapter especially, called “The Mine,” is really a short | to have delighted all in the room, and she adds that “ this war-story of which any writer in Europe might be proud;' paradox had a deep meaning.” All I can say is that it is

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PUNCH, OR THE ‘LONDON Cc HAR LV AR I $60 | not my idea of a paradox, but ‘then ‘possibly I am too middle-class to appreciate all the sacred things that are involved in the due employment of a fish-knife. Of our | own Kina the Princess is good enough to say that “he has shown himself a faithful servant of his country, watching | over her interests, and trying to lead her on the path of prosperity and greatness.” The book is full of these lightning flashes ‘of insight and epigram. of so humane a cause. | It has often been my peivllege to suggest that you | should read such and such a book; now here is one, Phe We are perhaps becoming | Queen’s Net (HopDER AND StouGHtTon) that I wish to urge | you in the strongest terms not only to read, but to buy. And this for two reasons. First because you will thus be helping one of the most | ra or almost blank.

| practical and deserving bs Wy ' works that this time of + iu crisis has called into | > ae action ; secondly, because | ty) ' i

<a irony you will at the same time | give yourself a great deal | of pleasure. For this | book, which Mr. Haronp BecBIF has written about | the ‘“Queen’s Work for Women Fund,” and cer- tain persons who have been helped by it, is em- phatically not orfe that needs the cloak of charity to coyer its artistic sins.| It has a value of its own, | apart from its object, as being supremely well written, with that highest | art that eliminates the writer altogether, and | leaves the reader face to ny it SSNS!

face with the persons described, as living reali- | hilt ‘i ties. And how they live, P — | Hi | MK and the strangeness of /g@R@Iitl Mw I il the stories they tell! Mit (ull IH ! (Uh One has continually to remind oneself with an! PASSPORTS effort that here is no . ts SD Bhs ; novelist’s make - believe, Assistant in. Tourist Office. ‘‘Sorry TO KEEP YOU WAITING, Mapam— I MUST FINISH ASSISTING THIS GENTLEMAN WITH THE DESCRIPTION OF but existence as it has ae meen.” been actually endured by gently-born women in these last terrible “days. ~ Unex- pectedly, pethaps, there never was a more heartening book, one more full of kindness and courage, and even heroic laughter. The persons of whom it treats are all —with perhaps one odd exception—at the present moment entirely happy people; the horror from which they have

is the background against which they stand out in ‘cheer: ful contrast. the aims and achievements of the noble and chivalrous scheme which The Queen’s Net has been written to help. | Buy the book for yourself, read it, as you will, between ' laughter and tears, and you will understand what work it is to which our Greatest Lady has given her name and energy. | in those days ; what he thinks of it. All the profits from the sale of The Blinded Soldiers’ and | Sailors’ Gift Book, which is edited by Mr. Georar Goop- CHILD and published by Messrs. JARROLD, will be given to Mr. C. ArtHuR Pearson for the benefit of those who have

the muslin is of no special quality. remains a comedy of Irish manners in the early eighties; rather more than a little sordid in theme (was Dublin society | of those days so frankly husband-hunting ?), but engagingly | youthful both in its manner and outlook. There is youth | even in the attempts to outrage the sensibilities been gently lifted, and wherein others are still struggling, i] libraries. Daring for daring’s sake was still a big adventure | it has become commonplace now. There is, I hope, no need to speak now of | ately the maturer Mr. Moore has been so kind, in a new preface, as to give the reviewer of Muslin a friendly “57 ‘““A comedy novel, written with sprightliness' and wit,” Elsewhere he notices that the ‘laa is very much that of A Doll's House (which I should not have thought myself), and coneludes a sympathetic notice | of his own heroine with the pronouncement that she “ gives me much the same kind of pleasure as a good drawing.” And, as I suppose Mr. Moore ought to know, I will con- tent myself with passing on to you his verdict. I shall continue to like other work of his a great deal better than this rather thin and faded chiffon. (Deceaner i, 1915,

lost their ey esight i in the W: ar ; ; and when that eloquent fact has been stated I feel that your hands are already feeling for the three shillings which are asked of you for the help Incidentally you will also be doing a good turn to yourself, for this book is no medley collected in haste and pushed between attractive covers, but a volume that contains excellent work by both authors and artists. Mr. H. G. Wetts, for instance, has contributed a tale that no admirer of his ought to miss, and Mr. HuaH THomson’s frontispiece is a delightful example of his delicate manner. x a little sceptical about the work attached to well-known names in a volume of this kind, but here I can assure you that the sceptics will draw blank— No check*to our charitable impulses can | be possible while a chance is given us to lighten the sense of tragedy in the lives of those who have fought and suffered for us; but the only royal way to assist our blinded men is |

to help them to help them- | selves, and this is the work which wonderfully done—as Mr. CHARLES MARRIOTT tells us —at St. Dunstan’s, Regent

is being so | Park, a work to which | it was his privilege, and | is mine, to direct your | generous hearts. If you are a_ close student of the work of | Mr. Grorce Moore are no. doubt you already familiar with that one of | his early stories which | originally appeared under | the title of A Drama in Muslin. Anyhow, it has now been republished under the name of Muslin (HrrNeMAnn). Thechange is to be commended, as | there is certainly more | muslin than drama about | the tale; one might even of the Personally

add, in captious mood, that | For the rest the book | Fortun- |

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ay | a ‘Deceunee 8, 1915.) PU NCH, OR THE LONDON CHAR Iv ARL 461 feeding dogs with beech- wood. It is hoped that in time these intelligent animals will be trained to subsist upon their own bark. , , CHARIVARIA. WHEN in Vienna the German Katser | had his portrait painted by an Austrian artist, and the Neue Freie Presse, in describing the picture, says, ‘‘ The face, as represented by Schmutzer, is an open book.” A book that wants binding— in Russia, for choice. Lord KircHENER has been justly| complimented on the amount of travel- three weeks’ absence from London. But his exploits sink into insignificance be- side those of his colleagues. all over The Globe i in 1 hi alf the time. In reply to representations made by the Roman Catholics of Germany on behalf of the Armenians, the Imprrian CHANCELLOR has replied that ‘the German Government, in friendly com- munication with the Turkish Govern- ment, has been at constant pains to better the situation of Turkey’ S Christian subjects.” Thanks to this friendly intervention half-a- million Armenians will never suffer again from Turkish misrule. The latest story | =” the Front (not submitted to the Press Bureau). A British airman had trouble with his engine and was obliged to come down in the German lines. There two Ger- It is lése-majesté in Germany to criticise unfavourably any com- | position of the War Lorp. Pri- vately however, the IMPERIAL CHANCELLOR is said to have re- marked that the Imperial telegram of congratulation on his birthday, “which, unfortunately, you cele- brate for the second time in this war,” was slightly ambiguous. In seein: ‘with the rece nt | changes in the Austrian Ministry it is stated that the Austrian Par- liament has never met since the beginning of the War. The infer- enee that this alone has enabled Austria to hold out so long re —— no support down n * ‘estminster way. NOVEL CHRISTMAS GIFT. To ENABLE YOUR MALE FRIENDS TO FORGET b ) “INS > 7. = u ° From the list of Chr istmas oC ks THEIR NO-TREATING, EARLY-CLOSING WORRIES. issued by the German publishers there would appear to be an extensive|man staff officers arrested him, and, demand for British sea-stories, such|having had the engine put right, in- works as Robinson Crusoe, Treasure| sisted, with menacing pistols, on his Island and The Pirate being freely | taking them up to reconnoitre. Arrived advertised, though of course in trans- | over the British lines, the airman, who lations. It is “suspected that these | had taken the precaution to strap him- books are issued by the German Ad-|self in, looped the loop. Out fell the ability of Major Cuurcnitn to stand miralty to the sailors in the Kiel Canal, | | Germans ; and down he came in in order to give them a notion of the | triumph. ocean. “e* | * | Same anxiety was felt as to the With the fervour of a renegade Herr Houston CHAMBERLAIN insists that|the rigours of the trenches. But it German, not English, must become the|was quite superfluous. One of his brother-officers has described how, on the very first night of his arrival, \after consuming the ordinary rations in a fireless dug-out, ‘he warmed up and talked interestingly for an hour.” So long as he can impart information |he’s all right. universal language, and says, “ People | must learn to see that he who does not speak German is a pariah.” The choice, as he puts it, is between the gutter and the guttural; but are these terms mutually exclusive ? ? A Berlin ae 2 lecturing on the use of trees as fodder, stated that ex- | periments have already been made in| the other “day with a medal. ling that he accomplished during his | They were |how she got it, she replied, “ We were asked w ho the British were now fighting for. The other girls said, ‘The Bel- |giums,’ but I said, ‘The Serviettes,’ land they gave me the medal.” | Extract of a letter from a soldier to his home :—* All the French boys and girls can say ‘Souvenir.’ It is the only English word they know.” An unnecessarily gloomy view of the new War Bonds is taken by The Aber- deen Evening Gazette, when it says: |The money will be fully returned to us some day; but that, except we are very young, will only be after we have been a long time dead.” Our Scottish ‘contemporary is on safer ground when it asserts that certain classes ‘*would invest more freely in War liquid.” surely otiose warning against en- | ter ing at this time into peace nego- 'tiations with the ruling junta in |Germany, on the ground that they may go back now in order to leap }again later on. As he very properly isays, ‘We do not intend to have any leaping again later on.” Lord Hawpane as an eligible bachelor is now expected to move that 1916 be ‘dropped from the ¢ calendar. | Lord HALpANE has | One of our wiih chroniclers tells us that a titled lady has recently /undergone an operation, ‘“ per- formed by a specialist who prefers to be known as plain Mr. Blank.” It is a curious whim, but he has, ALL . . of course, constant occasion to realise that beauty is only skin | deep. A wounded soldier, writing from MorTHEer,— hospital, said, ‘“ Drar ‘socks’ if Please label my fruit cake you want it to get to me.” A British a officer, returning from the Far East on a Japanese liner, was startled, on nearing port one day, to ead the following notice, signed by the Purser: ‘“ All Consuls will be opened from 9 A.M. in the morning.” “MR. FRY’S SECRET. once on a time wholeheartedly encouraged to remain in a tadpole condition as far as their art was concerned. discover the underlying meaning of his show. | Morning Paper. |The girl was a mermaid—that is clear | A little girl came , home from school | ‘enough. Asked | “ numtives.” But we are fairly floored by Loans if the vouchers were made | VOL. CXLIX. Ai uttered a | the girl’s head in numtives whom he It took us some time to |

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producing terror and thus of shortening the War and_ Truro Lane.”

452 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL [December 8, 1915,

' | which are now seen to recoil upon us and to lengthen the UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER. | period of our sufferings. It is bad for a nation to become | No. XXXI. a victim to sentimentalism, but there are different kinds of m ; hago rey a de | Sentimentalism, and perhaps the worst and most dangerous (From Maxruitran Harven, Editor of the “ Zukunjt.”) kind is the anti-sentimentalism of the more brutal kind of Sir,—It has rather been my custom to criticise Kings | soldiers who see nothing but guns and shells and bayonets and Emperors in the columns of my paper than to address | and armies, and forget that their acts may rouse a spirit | them directly by means of a letter. Indeed, I have shrunk | against which the most powerful armaments cannot in the | from allowing my name to be mixed up with those who in| long run prevail. this age appear to me to be phantasms of the world-brain Your faithful Editor, MAximMIniAN Harpen. called up into what is only a semblance of existence, having no substance and no relation to reality. Still, even these shadowy appearances that flit across the face of things

THE PHILOSOPHY OF THOMAS.

have their influence. One must reckon with them in a) In Summer we suffered from dust an’ from flies, world which is often ruled by shadows; and thus it comes | The flies in our rations, the dust in our eves . ee e av ’ JVs that I, who am but a hardworking publicist, earning my An’ some of our fellows they drooped in the ’eat ° ” < 4 & J (Ys daily bread by the labour of my pen, address myself to you, But the Bosch, oh, the Bosch, was perspirin’ a treat! ’ ’ ’ ¢ re + the high and mighty Kaiser, whose nod is supposed to shake the spheres and whose lifted hand shatters kingdoms There were times when we longed for a tankard o’ beer, into ruins. Bein’ sick o’ warm water—our tipple out ’ere, For yourself as a man I may say that I have no yener- But our tongues might be furry an’ throats like a flue, ation. You are the chief of the gloomiest and coarsest Yet it’s nothin’ to wot the fat Bosches went through.

Court in Europe. No attempt that has been made to lighten the darkness and to mitigate the harshness of that Court has had more than a momentary success. Now and | then a young and gay-hearted princess m'ght appear and shine for an instant, but she was immediately drawn down into the vortex and, to all intents and purposes, she dis- | appeared. It would have needed something more than | youth and smiles and innocent gaiety to resist the oppres- | Quite likely the Bosches are standin’ in three ; sion of the combined sabre-clanking and hard pietistic | An’ though the keen frost may be ticklin’ our toes, influences to which the new-comer was exposed from the | ‘Oo doubts that the Bosches’ ’ole bodies is froze ? time of her entrance into this dreadful circle. And so it | has come about that there has been no check—none, at any rate, that in the least availed—on your own baffling and ; : - impulsive personality. At one moment you would pose as Are we badly in need of a shave an’ a wash ; | the War-Lord, fierce and be-starred and be-helmeted; at Consider the ‘orrible state o’ the Bosch! An’ our rifles an’ kit are a sight to be’old, An’ in trenches that’s flooded we tumble an’ splosh, “Wot cheer?” we remarks. “It’s the same for the | Bosch.” Now Winter is ‘ere with the wet an’ the cold, | } If we’re standin’ in two foot o’ water, you see, Are we sleepy or sick or ’arf dead for a meal ? ‘Just think of ’ow underfed Bosches must feel !

another you would show yourself as the glorified huck- So 'ere 's our philosophy simple an’ plain: ster of world-power, intent on gaining by commercialism Wotever we ‘ates in the bloomin’ campaign, all that your heavy diplomacy might fail to accomplish ; ’Tis balm to our souls, as we grumble an’ cuss, and then, hey—presto! you would change again and would To feel that the Bosches are ‘atin’ it wuss. invoke in sanctimonious accents a tribal god whom, with the aid of the narrowest and most primitive Hebraism, you eel had invented as joint guardian with your own exalted self | Sc Papen of the traditions of the house of Hohenzollern. After a Harvest Festival :— ‘‘Our thanks are due . . . to those who furnish the wheat, And now the natural result of all this feverish striving Moser Sete pies 8 . : barley, oats, bread and apples, which are afterwards greatly enjoyed | and all this posturing has happened, and we Germans are | },v the choir boys.""—Parish Magasine. at war. For sixteen months we have been at war, and the) ~ : end is not yet. On all sides money and blood are poured; ‘‘O grave, where is thy victory, O death, where is thy sting?’ | out like water. We are determined to achieve victory, but | 5*i4 the great writer, Hall Caine.""—Daily Telegraph. | our foes too are stubborn and are resolved at whatever | But we fancy he had been anticipated. cost to bring us to the ground. So the fighting and the ; : ; deaths and the sufferings continue and desolation threatens | Extract from a resolution passed by the Council of the the world. And in the midst of this unexampled welter, in| English Kerry and Dexter Cattle Society :— ‘ which our earth seems to be returning to chaos, are heard | ‘An entry form must be filled up giving the name, colour, date faintly, but with increasing distinctness, the voices (some | of birth, oe and addresses of the breeder and mes of them German) of those who ask for peace before Owners and "breeders who may object to giving these per- | universal ruin is utterly accomplished. As to this it is | Sonal details will be glad to see that the resolution will | right that we should not deceive ourselves by indulging | Tequire confirmation at the next Council meeting. in a hope that nations whom we have attacked are, any of; |... Os Pecans TET pace them, in the mood to lay down their arms or to cease from |,,<9Si Arthur, Priestley, prodicts that for years aftr the war. the defending themselves and from attacking us. By our own Jersey Evening Post. acts we have closed the avenues that might lead to peace. | Very different from the parish pump, which is a fixture. If we hint that peace is now possible our enemies retort aro a upon us the destruction of Louvain, the shattering of Impending Apology. Belgium, the sinking of the Lusitania, what they call the| Ina report of a recent discussion re the lighting regu- foul murder of Nurse CAveLL—in a word, all those acts Jations as given in Lake’s Falmouth Packet :— which we have performed with the justifiable intention of} « Gouncillor

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we \ \\ ’ \ CONOMIST. ‘ 4 THE POLITICAL I > l YOUI MY FRIEND. THRIFT, SEE MORE ME—I ME “ LET MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT (to working-man). WAGES HAVE GONE ADDITION MYSELF ANY VOTED HAVEN’T AT LOOK POUNDS WHEREAS- Or; FOUR HUNDRED A YEAR.” TO MY

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eae DecemBerR 8, 1915.] Mid Yy Le Old Gentleman (engaging new chauffeur). ‘‘I supposE I CAN WRITE TO YOUR LAST EMPLOYER FOR YOUR CHARACTER ?”’ Chauffeur. ‘‘I am SORRY TO SAY, SIR, EACH OF THE LAST TWO GENTLEMEN I HAVE BEEN WITH DIED IN MY SERVICE.”’ Few recent books have been more | piquantly promising than the collection | of portraits of Sir RABINDRANATH Tac- | orE, by Mr. RorTuHENSTEIN, with a com- | mentary by Mr. Max Beersoum. That | Max, the peculiarly Occidental quiz and | delineator of the foibles of London's | artistic and literary butterflies, should | devote himself to the appreciation of the famous Indian mystic is considered to have as many elements of, let us say, | surprise as often get mixed together between two covers. This book, however, odd as it may | be, does not stand alone. Other artists | and critics have also been at work on| similar collaborations, and we are able} to some extent to outline their activities. | As to the series of portrait studies of Lord Norruciirre by Herr Rar-| MAEKERS, with descriptive text by Sir JoHN Srvon, no information has yet reached us; and we are similarly to seek as to the more juicy particulars of a luscious septet of presentments in colour of Mr. SetrripGe by Mr. Jonn Hassa.t, with joint appraisement by Madame Du BoccaGe and CALLISTHENES; nor have we had any opportunity yet to examine the twelve versions of the fascinating but little-known physiog- THE NEW VIVISECTION. | somey of the Bev. B. J. Canvemns by gy Rete MPBELY Y! A PARDONABLE ERROR. Mr. AuGustus JouN, with analytical | letter-press by Mr. W. W. Jacoss,! THrovcx London lately as I went which is so eagerly awaited by the! There smote mine ear a sound of cognoscentt. | joy, We have, however, been favoured| And, strange to say, the instrument with advance proofs of the ten views of Of this was but a newsman’s boy the more prominent facial peculiarities | Who of Lord Hanpane by Mr. Sarcent, | with a eulogy by Mr. Rocer Fry, and | we can wholeheartedly recommend this | morceau. Mr. Fry’s absorbing excursus is largely devoted to a comparison be- tween Lord HALpANr’s visage as it now is and what it might be had it been designed by an artist of pronounced futurist or even vorticist tendencies. In a scholarly aside on the superiority of the Cyclopean ideal of beauty over | that commonly admired to-day, the essayist rises to lyrical heights. He! In one unwashed but honest hand, shows us the Cyclops in all his savage I quickly came to earth once more. charm, with one eye in the middle of |'This was the headline: “ Ka1sER IN his forehead, and then proves clearly VIENNA”; that the precision and philosophic calm | I thought he said “ Gehenna.” of Lord Hatpane’s character made it imperative that he should have | two eyes, each in the usual place on Not a Popular Beverage. either side of the nose, no matter what oan oF am preg : a by —_ +. per | the sacrifice in esthetic rapture. dome. “The seek ante wil secen ‘on | W © prophesy an immense success for | additional annual revenue to the Corporation | this extraordinary book. | of £0,000.’’—Gloucestershire Echo. ing Do His most untuneful “ calling.” When his announcement of the news Against my tympanum was hurled, I thought of Mr. Brownine's views About the “rightness” of the world, And cried: “The wings of Nemesis awaken, And Wrong is overtaken !” But when I neared the youth and scanned The flaring placard which he bore plied with much reiterated bawl- |

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| with him. | he really wanted to have | at him to feel quite easy in | | 466 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVART. [December 8, 1915, ON THE SPY-TRAIL, You don’t know the Hill Farm, perhaps. Well, it is only about two miles from Jimmy’s home. Jimmy goes there sometimes ; not for anything in particular—he just goes there, and when you are there of course there you are, and that’s how Jimmy met the farmer. He met him in the orchard; not by appointment or anything silly like that; he just happened to meet him. Jimmy says the way the farmer kept on swishing his whip about nearly made him fall out of the apple-tree. He wished he wouldn’t keep on re- who was harnessing the horse wore a.| black tail coat and bowler hat, and | Jimmy had last seen him in London, where his mother took him to have a meal somewhere. | Jimmy was so surprised that he’ stopped eating. Jimmy knew the man | at once, because when his mother took | him to a restaurant when he was in| London the man showed them where to sit. The man didn’t recognise Jimmy, but he told him he had come to help the farmer with his harvest. He didn’t | charge the farmer anything, he came | because of the War, and of where England would be if he didn’t. | to wear spurs, and he wished he had brought his with him. He was swank- ing a bit, Jimmy says. It was one of these light spring carts, Jimmy says, without any springs, and you sat on the side instead of on a seat. Jimmy says very few vehicles passed them on the road, and most of them had to go on the path with one wheel in the ditch. One gentleman in a | motor car had been playing a tune on his horn for some time before he could get past, and then he was so glad that he turned round to let them see his red face. Jimmy got Faithful in all right, and | the man told Jimmy he could drive the | minding him of things like that, as it made the apples curdle on his stomach like anything. Jimmy tried to bargain He asked the farmer how many swishes his mind about it. When the farmer said twenty, Jimmy climbed four feet higher up and) asked the farmer if -he| would like to hear him | recite ‘‘Casabianca.” _ | The farmer didn’t care | much for poetry, Jimmy | says, so Jimmy asked him | if five swishes, and what he would get if he caught him again, wouldn’t do if he showed the farmer how to move his ears and scalp at the same time. Jimmy also offered to throw in a certain cure for freckles. But no! Jimmy says it is very | funny how everything bad you have done comes back to you when you are up a tree. Jimmy says he thought of all the mistakes he had made in dicta- tion, and how he had said that an axiom was what the world went round on, | when suddenly the farmer asked him his / name, and that settled it, because the farmer had heard all about Jimmy’s | bloodhound Faithful and the German | | | ! spies he had caught. He told Jimmy that if he would bring his bloodhound for him to look at and | show him how he caught spies, he COMPLEXION CREAM.,’’ could have as many apples as he liked. | Jimmy says it is wonderful how nice | Merchant. ‘‘RaTHER POOR STUFF, THIS NEW PASTE, SMITHERS.”’ Office Girl. ‘I rHInK, SiR, THAT YOU ARE INADVERTENTLY USING MY Jimmy says the man was a Dit | except that puzzled with the harness. He told Jimmy that he had got the waist-band | all right, but that he couldn’t find out what you buttoned the horse’s braces to. Jimmy says it was a very loving horse, and as the man was buckling the | ends of the reins to the collar the horse | kept trying to kiss him in the middle | of the back, and the man kept saying, | “Lie down, will you!”” The man had had a little difficulty with the collar, Jimmy says; he said it was only a fourteen-and-a-half collar and the horse took a large seventeen. The man had just told Jimmy that | farmers are when you come to know | perhaps he had better undress the horse j | them. The farmer told Jimmy that he | | was sending a man in to the town, and | that Jimmy could drive in with him and and begin all over again when the farmer came to see what was the matter. Jimmy says the farmer seemed | bring his bloodhound back in the cart. | to ease the horse’s mind a lot. | | he went into the yard, because the man | he Jimray says he was surprised when | On the way the man told Jimmy that liked driving, but it was always best| The farmer was surprised when he ful kept trying to sniff a piece out of his trousers, and he couldn’t keep his ‘eye on Faithful and on ‘the horse. | Jimmy was very glad to \drive. You see Jimmy | knows all about the way to make horses go. You do it with a prickly burr, and you put it under the horse’s tail for him to hold there. Jimmy know$ ‘about prickly burrs be- cause they teach him ‘nature study at school. ‘He is very fond of nature study. | Jimmy says they ‘bumped a good deal be- ‘cause of the springs that the man tried to hold on » | to the bottom of the cart, ‘they went so fast. Jimmy says it was like = ‘take artillery into action, they don’t use burrs. But Jimmy was all right because the butcher boy showed him how to drive like that. Jimmy says the butcher boy always stood on the top of his cart whistling, with his hands in his pockets and then made his horse run away. Jimmy says all you have to do is to sway with the bumps. Jimmy says the man’s bowler hat came off and began dancing about on the bottom of the cart at Faithful and daring him. Faithful soon got on its track; he chased it all round the cart and tore it limb from limb, Jimmy says, just to show it. The man didn’t say anything except that they would be killed, and good-bye. He seemed a bit sea-sick, Jimmy says. The horse was very glad to see the farmer again, it wanted him to make a pet of it and not let it out of his sight. | horse back, because Faith- | Doerggonc in the cart, and | 'those pictures where you |

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~_ ewe eT we eS Sr Ss » December 8, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. | 467 . Vat D Bees. ¢ FF #- ae J bs | fi - Fee oy ~~ Ye ” : C. i oe ; ° bes if di sil if : 23 7 é at ee A 2 a H tition ane Officer (visiting Sentry). ‘‘ AND WHAT ARE YOUR DUTIES?” Sentry (after a few minutes’ hesitation). ‘‘To PREVENT ANY UNAUTHORISED PERSON FROM ENTERING GOVERNMENT PROPERTY AND TO STOP ALL AIR RAIDS.”’ saw Faithful, Jimmy says; he told | (ii) Mr. Frep Terry will give an ex- | hibition of Ironic Bowing. The Jimmy that he thought he had got SPECIALITY TURNS FOR THE rather a large collar on him. But MUSIC-HALLS. | Navarre and Pimpernel Bows, etc. Jimmy told him it wasn’t a collar; it =A wrnn-KNowNn music-hall manager Also the Glad Eye as made at the was the leather band out of the man’s has stated that the most attractive Court of King Charles the Second. hat; and it had “Otto Schmidt” | sketch for a popular actor to produce (iii) Mr. Caartes Hawrrey, Champion | written in ink on it. on the Variety stage is one that displays Theatrical Prevaricator of Europe, Jimmy says the farmer looked at the him in what the public has come to will Lie. man and then at the leather band, and yegard as a characteristic situation. (iv) Mr. Arravr Bourcnrer will con- then at the man again, and then at the But in this age of condensation why sume an entice Wive-course Diener, leather band, and he kept on doing it, not go further and have the situation and simultaneously deliver a Mono- and then finally he looked at old withovt the sketch? We append a losue on the sins of Society. Faithful, who was trying to scratch his suggested programme, such as should (The only Actor who can be im- | | ear off with his hind leg. _,| prove an enormously popular success | pressive avec la bouche pleine.) Bice Bho lag my buttons if on these lines : im ‘(v) Mr. Geranppv Mavrier (Lightning ) THE CoMEANSEEUM. Mental Contortionist) will submit “The writers agree that the British Staff | PreMIER Variety Hovse. to cross-examination by a Com- officer is chosen solely for his ability and} Change of Programme Weekly. mittee of the Audience, and will | training and that at the front he is now| Everything Else Strong. undertake to recover from at least working from between 8 and 9 p.m. until about Your favourite Artistes in “their three damaging Admissions. eleven o’clock or midnight.’’ : hag ; : es New York Herald (Paris Edition). | Speciality Stunts ! Also Back-slapping, Winking, Yet some of his critics have tried to} (i) Sir GrorGe ALEXANDER will stand! . and other popusr features. : make us believe that those are just the | with his back against a chair or (Vi) Sir Hersert Tree will imitate a hours that he devotes to bridge. table, and relate a Ten-minutes’ Zeppelin located by search-lights. Anecdote (with French quotations) | (vii) Finally Mr. Norman McKinnew The Leather Bottel. : to a family circle of antagonistic (Strength in Silence) will give a ‘© We are now faced with a series of regu- | % Sstiiacnen can dihdiindnaak Utah ennahcdie Mamet ite vulgarians. | Dumb Show Illustration of the witts our shoes in our hands. Ube the Sows od An Act without its equal for| text: “It is better to be taciturn | charm and deportment. than beautiful. the Feast of Passover.’’—Morning Post.

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| was lying face downwards on the floor. 468 PUNCH, OR CHARIVARLI. [Decemper 8, 1915, A CHAT WITH SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS. | Iam an uncle. I don't say it in any | boasting spirit, but simply to show you | that I have a stake in the country. 1) found my nieces the other evening in the nursery. Lillah, looking distressingly bored, | | Phyllis was putting the hands of the | | | Phyllis with an air of reproach. | without emotion, clock back, lest, as the ancients had it, | bed-time anticipate her. My arrival was not the signal for a furore. “Here's Uncle James,” said Lillah, while Phyllis said nothing at all. Luckily I knew the way to rouse | them. ‘Good evening, babies,” I said. | When the uproar had died down they | decided that 1 might be of some use. “Tell us about the War,” said Lillah. “ Yes,” echoed Phyllis. “The War,” I began, terrible thing.” “That’s what Mummie says,” “is a very | said I apologised for having pilfered some- | one else’s mot. “And Daddy says,” added Lillah, | | with obvious etfort, “it’s a disgrace to | | was a bit younger, we are fighting for the flag. sillyvisation.’ “ And he says, damme, he wishes he | said Phyllis with immense gravity. “ Daddy says,” Lillah went on, “ that Are we?” “Certainly,” I answered. “ Do the Germans want our flag?” “ They want everything.” | “Why couldn’t we give them one ‘like it?” asked Phyllis with deadly common-sense. ‘ Because they can't even keep their own clean,” said I. “They could send it to the wash,” pondered Lillah. “They will have to,” I answered | guimly, | “Daddy says we are fighting for Are we?” sillyvisation too. ” I said, “is always “Your father, right.” “T know,” said Phyllis gravely. “I vanted to see if you knew.” | “Your Uncle also,” I said with hauteur, ‘is seldom wrong.” There was a ponderous silence. “Mummie told Daddy,” said Lillah, “that you weren't ever very bright.” “Oh, indeed!” said I, I shall say a few hard words to Margaret about that putting ideas into the children’s heads. “ And when we ’ve won,” said Phyllis, “will we have sillyvisation ?” “T hope so.” real names are Scylla and Charybd dis.’ THE LONDON “ What will it be like—a fairy-tale?” “Very probably.” “ Daddy says it’s freedom. What’s | freedom ‘ ? “Freedom,” I said ‘“is—er—being | able to do what you like.” “Then won't there be any policemen !after the War?” “Oh yes, we shall keep the police- men.” “Woy? “Because the streets would look so | bare without them.” They looked at me with suspicion ; even at that tender age they could not believe in an esthetic ratepayer. “Do people like the War?” said | Phyllis. “No,” I answered. That was easy. “ Not even the Germans?” “T think not.” “ But if nobody made the big guns there wouldn’t be any war?” “ Er—no,” I said. “Then why do people “ Well—er "I stopped. I could ‘see that my last rags of reputation for brightness were going. I was in the | Uncle’s last ditch. “When you are older,” I began ; | but Lillah interrupted. “ And why don’t policemen take the people who make the guns?” It was | Phyllis’s shot. « And if nobedy wants thé War what makes it go on ?”’ “And if it’s a disgrace,” Lillah, “why coes Daddy 9 a go. queried want to “And why,” began Phyllis; but | pus up my hand. “One day,” I said, “I must tell you | the story of Socrates, who had to drink | a very nasty medicine called hemlcck.” “ What for?” said Lillah. “For asking too many questions,’ iT said. “Were the people who gave it to ‘him the people who didn’t know the answers ?” said Lillah. “ Yes, they were,” I said, as I rose. I took out my watch. “Good heavens, it’s after bedtime! ”’ * Does your watch say right?” said | Phyllis. “It sometimes underestimates, but it never exaggerates,’ I said. At that moment Daddy himself appeared. “ Good-night chicks,” he said. “ Tas Uncle James been amusing you?” “We've been playing with him, ‘said Lillah with gravity. And if ever “there was entendre I'll swear it was there. so they went to bed. “T don’t know,” we went downstairs, “why you called | your daughters Lillah and Phy llis; their ” a double And! I said to George as But George is a dull man, and simply said that Charybdis Watson would have sounded ridiculous. SEASONABLE (?) NOVELTIES. A CATALOGUE of Christmas toys contains a Mechanical Motor-accident ‘and a Realistic Trench-warfare model, “with apparatus for Poison - Gas.” Surely this method of preventing child- ren’s minds from dwelling upon the cheery side of life is capable of futher extension, as under :— Tne Frozen-prrpE Dow's House. Charmingly-furnished six-room House, Pipes. Real Water can be made to run down the walls. Paper peels off, etc. Endless Fun for Young and Old. 7s. 6d. and 10s. 6d. Explosion, and death of Cook. 15s. THE Inrivenza Doii.—Exquisite model, with hand-painted Red Nose, dressed in real blankets. squeezed the Doll emits a cough similar congestion. 6s. Superior quality, with Double-Pneu- monia effect. 8s. Ed. Exvecant Moprnt Cinema THEATRE, with Igniting Film and real Flames. Just the toy for a Thoughtful Child. Complete in box, with four refills of combustible Model Audience. 21s. Tue LirtLe Dentist.—Entire outfit, including miniature Forceps, Gags, Gas- bags, etc. Will keep an entire Nursery happy for hours. Help Baby with his Teething. | Papers for Waiting-room, 12s.). IN FLANDERS FIELDS. In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Searce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields. | } | Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch ; If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields. ‘* Will this war bring us to Kidderminster ?”’ English Churchman. | Well, there are worse places than Kid- Vd derminster. Larger, with workable Kitchen-boiler 5s. 6d. the set (or, including | model Electric-drill and old Illustrated | with complete model system of Leaking | On being | to that produced by severe bronchial | be yours to hold it high. |

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bie d = vs @ | which establish the interesting fact | that the composer’s grandfather was | name became ‘“ Donizetti.” | bears spelt it Greig—is already well | beyond the Tweed. | Peebles, and whose maiden name was | Belle | who was out in the ‘15 as a Jacobite and took refuge as an exile in Italy, | was a certain Mclverdy, which was | abbreviated in the next generation to DecemBer 8, 1915.]} ened nie (a is \ ‘it i tt U ; WN Fee p el(l\ \\ \\\ A 4 9 iS CHARIVARL. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON F mai | ~ ! t = ifh iF By | | ‘aaa Di. " ‘py z= / All bl ie ea Wit i ‘hat HY I I I i | ii | ‘*COME ALONG, SLACKER, OR I’LL put Lorp DERBY ON TO you!”’ THE UBIQUITOUS SCOT. | WE learn from The Daily Chronicle | that Mr. Richarp Norrxcorr has com- | piled and privately printed some notes | on the life and operas of Don1zer 1, | one DonaLp I[zeETT, a native of Perth- shire, who went to Italy, when the GriEG’s Scottish origin—his for- known, but several other famous Italian musicians and poets also hailed from Thus recent genea- logical researches have revealed the interesting fact that BeELLini assumed that name as a tribute to the memory of his grandmother, who was born at VerDI's Leney. grandfather, the name associated with so masterpieces of the lyric stage. many MascaanI, the composer of “ Cavall- eria Rusticana,” had for his great-grand- father a native of Drumnadrochit, who rejoiced in the patronymic of MacSandy. He emigrated to Florence to spread the merely a condensed form of the Chris- tian name and first syllable of the sur- name of his father, Peter Archibald, a Seots soldier of fortune who first saw the light at Inverness. cult of the bagpipes and soon adapted his surname to the euphonious form with which we are now familiar. MascaGnt's great rival, LEONCAVALLO, is, if not a pure Scotchman, at any rate a Scotch derivative. His father, a sturdy denizen of the Trossachs, who would be astonished could he but know of his son’s musical genius, for he was at his best but a poor performer upon the McTavish, famous for a thousand fire- pipes, was a prosperous crofter named} brand tricks. Indeed, sv great was Steed—Donald Steed. Greatly addicted | his fame that he was known as Dan to SHAKSPEARE, and especially Macbeth, | Nonesuch, and, on arriving in the new his favourite saying was, “ Lay on, Mac- | land of his adoption, he quickly Italian- duff "—so much so that his friends! ized this nickname into the world-wide came to speak of him as “ Lay on "| style which we all know—b’ Annvnzio. Steed. When, later, his son moved on —— to Italy, in the inveterate Scotch way} The list might be indefinitely ex- of getting farther and farther away | tended, but we may content ourselves from the native heath, he retained the| by observing that Italy is not alone in affectionate and humorous preface by| her indebtedness to Scotland. The which the old man had been known,, name of the great Trojan hero, Hector, but gave the “Steed” its Italian equi-| clearly points to a Caledonian ancestor, valent—thus producing Leoncavallo, an and the imitation of Edinburgh. which interesting example of the evolution of is furnished by the Acropolis leaps to a nom de pays. the eye of every intelligent tourist. Among modern Italian writers Scot- land also holds her own. Signor p’An- nuNz10, before he emigrated to Italy, was a young Aberdonian named Daniel It seems that two of the greatest, Italian poets were also of Scots extrac- | tion, DanTE being a descendant of a Dundee jute merchant named Alec Gair, which on his becoming a resident | . in Wiemann teed nm The lia eS | int turns, whether or not he realizes it, a deaf ear IE oe Woe aanized INGO to the cry for protection of unborn generations | ALIGHTERI; while PETRARCH’s name is’ of Irishmen and Irishwomen.”’ A Snub for Posterity. | Extract from a letter signed “ Nation- , alist” in The Irish Times :— ‘‘ Every eligible Irishman who emigrates, |

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470 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. __ [Decemper 8, 1915. ee o Shine X~ Hospital Orderly (to inmate on ‘‘ chicken diet’’). ‘‘ CHANGE FOR YOU TO-DAY, MATE. YOUR CHICKEN AIN’T RABBIT—IT’S FISH.”’ I showed ’im next my wife an’ kids, ’e up an’ showed mé ’is, THE CONVERSATION BOOK. | Them little funny Bienchy kids with ‘air all in a frizz; [ AVE a conversation book; I brought it out from ’ome, _| “ Annette,” ’e says, ‘‘ Louise,” ’e says, an’ ’is tears begun It tells the French for knife an’ fork an’ likewise brush an’| to fall; comb ; We was comrades when we parted, but we’d ’ardly spoke It learns you ‘ow to ast the time, the names of all the| at all. stars, | | m? a So ° ’ ee eo * 4 7 An’ ‘ow to order hoysters an’ ‘ow to buy cigars. |’E'd ’ave kissed me if I'd let ‘im, we ‘ad never met before, An’ I’ve never seen the beggar since, for that’s the way o’ Bat there ain’t no shops to shop in, there ain’t no grand | war ; hotels, | An’, though we scarcely spoke a word, I wonder just the When you spend your days in dugouts doin’ ’olesale trade | same in shells; If ’e ll ever see them kids of ’is . . . I never ast ’is name! It’s nice to know the proper talk for theatres an’ such— | = But when it comes to talkin’, why, it doesn’t ’elp you) Another Impending Apology. much. | It is worth nothing that Messrs. S. Pearson and Sons have lent oe _| three of their directors to the Ministry of Munitions.” eae all them frienc y Ind oO lings you d naturally | Daily Chronicle. When vou meet a feller casual-like an’ pass the time o’| ‘‘ Waxtep for East Coast, Curate. One not afraid of occasional dav— bombardments. Apply Vicar.’’—Church Times. | Them little things as breaks the ice an’ kind o’ clears the | “ Why not install a canon?” asks the parson who sends | air, M |us the cutting. But perhaps so high a dignitary would not | Which, when you turn the phrase book up, why, them | pay sufficient attention to the Vicar’s maxims, things isn’t there! : rae xs : ‘Outside, a pair of soldiers were playing shuttledore and battle- I met a chap the other day a-roostin’ in a trench, | cock.’’-Hereford Times. ’E, didn’t know a word of ours nor me a word o’ French; | A new game for the “ Bantams,” presumably. An’ ’ow it was we managed, well, I cannot understand, earn aaaoteeeetorran But I never used the phrase book, though I’ad it in my| From a description of a Budget Night at Westminster :— "and, | ‘*Some two thousand peers and diplomatists looked down from : m ; R ; | their respective galleries upon an animated scene, their black coats I winked at ’im to start with ; ’e grinned from ear to ear; | and white waistcoats, dotted with bald heads, and sprinkled with khaki An’ ’e says “Tipperary” an’ I says “ Sooveneer ” ; | uniforms.’’— Wanganui Chronicle, N.Z. ’E ‘ad my only Woodbine, I ’ad ’is thin cigar, |'This remarkable scene seems to have been overlooked b J 8 Which set the ball a-rollin’, an’ so—well, there you are! our Tosy, M.P. ||

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Decrmprr 8, 1915. Ht iy Hi) Shiny) | i) we, ) / i] } Urpgteeenedll : J } , Wi WN) Hitt i me | | HN | II Ny /j y Wy Wi | | mii | At, / 4 Ki) o " ane } ‘Cae i alti | y) AC ASS TVA My 2 7% 7 4 / - 1 | ! j { awe ti NS ~ / i /, ent /, fit) et 4 " f Hf iil : ' | 1 Gs ‘ } / fH Zs i | | f Mien ke a} ET bi | { i ~ A ; / $ jaa) 4 fay t, ARS \ ) AN UNAUTHORISED FLIRTATION. Tue Kaiser (to Avsrrran Emurrnron). “FRANZ! FRANZ! I’M SURPRISED AND PAINED.” ——— — a

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| have whispered in his ear MEtL- | Ropert Ceci interposed to “say | a word about my own position.” | Impetuous MarkHAm created di- — ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. ber : The Times. Wrote immediately to that paper admitting his mistake and apolo- | gising. would end. Those who anticipated /such ordinary commonplace result | don’t know their Times. Here was | opportunity for not only damaging a Minister but of securing bold advertisement far beyond possi- bilities of posters on the wall or displayed announcements in columns of contemporaries. Times accordingly daily ham- mered away at Home SEcrETARY, | accusing him not only of malver- sation of fact but of disingenuous- ness and dishonesty in attempts to exonerate himself. In such circumstances Home SecrETARY’s best friend might BOURNE’S famous inquiry, ‘“ Why can’t you leave it alone?” If advice given certainly not ac- cepted. Questions over, Home SECRETARY interposed with re- joinder that occupied more than a full hour’s delivery. Indiscretion contagious. lx nd version by dragging on the scene MASTERMAN, of whom no one was thinking. Dauzreu told in- teresting little story as to how Home SeEcRETARY, meeting a private Member in luncheon | room on day fateful question was raised, concocted a little plot. Jones (of Merthyr), the private Member referred to, declared there wasn’t a word of truth in the narrative. “Dear me,” said the MEMBER FOR Sark, looking up at clock pointing to hour at which adjournment must necessarily take place, “haven't heard something about the country being engaged in greatest war ever waged since “battles began | ? Isn’t there something said about Serbia being wiped out under feet of Germany as Mr, Howe SECRE TARY, under misapprehen- | eleven sion, made inaccurate allegation against | raised by Home Secretary stands on There, it might seem, matter | | to was Belgium a year ago? Isn’t there fighting in Flanders, peril in the Last, decimation of dauntless heroes at the Dardanelles? What’s this in to- day's foll of Honour — killed and wounded 36 officers and 968 men? And here’s the House of Commons} spending a whole sitting in wrangling | over personal questions.” As matter of fact the whole sitting, | \for high purpose to which it was de- (EXTRACTED FROM THE Diary oF Tony, M.P.) | yoted. House of Commons, Tuesday, Novem- | with specially decreed exceptions, pto- Such a storm in a teapot! | ceedings may Standing Order provides that, not continue Accordingly beyond o'clock. debate journals of House as “ Adjourned.” Business done. — None. STANTON taking his seat as Member for Merthyr cheered from both sides. His victory regarded as pledge from unexpected quarter at whatever cost to carry on) War to predestined end. ‘““MERTHYR WILL G. Roserts aND Mr. BIG ’UN—Mr. C. B. STANTON For MERTHYR. Wednesday.— Prime MINIsTER al- ways at his best amid fusillade of ques- tions, some pertinent, others imperti- | ; nent, | His * Wait and see” has become a classic, useful to minor humorists in the magazines or at parish meetings. His assurance that a certain matter | brought to his notice is receiving his | most careful consideration wards off a | multitude of inconvenient inquiries. To-day struck out a new phrase. Pressed to say whether if Parliament be adjourned before result of Lord Dersy’s Recruiting Scheme is an- nounced it will forthwith be summoned consider the situation when the scheme is submitted. “T can say no more,” remarked, “than if and occasion contemplated by he gravely when the the Hon. EpGar JONES INTRODU December 8, 1915.] PUN NCH, OR THE “LONDON _CH AN IVARI. 473 full seven hours long, was not sufficient Member arises it will be for the Government to take such steps as they may consider suitable.” Whilst the Hon. Member was framing Supplementary Question next one on the Paper called by the Speaker, and his chance was gone. Business done.—Increase of Rent Bill in tactful hands of capable WALTER Lona read a second time. Thursday.—Interesting to observe how marked characteristics of a nation survive through the ages. More than .a century ago Cannina, dropping into poetry, wrote :— ‘*In matters of commerce the fault of the Dutch Is giving too little and asking too much,”’ In course of important debate on export of goods to neutral countries, a topic that attracted audience of twenty-nine Members, shown to-day that Holland is taking far too much in the way of linseed-oil and giving extremely little in way of explanation as to what eventually becomes of it. In first nine months of present year excess of export to Holland | over similar periods before the War amounts to 29,000 tons. Shrewd suspicion that, in breach of inter- national law, this surplus is re- exported to Germany, where it is found equal to supply starving population with material for 2,000 tons of margarine a week. BiGcLanD threw fresh light on problem of continuance of War. “Tf,” he said, speaking as one having authority, ‘‘ we could pre- vent Germany from importing oil and fat the War would be over in seven months.” Business done.—A few small Bills advanced a stage. Got cE A away home just before ten o'clock, Pupils are Cheap To-day. | **Privare School for Sale; 20 pupils ; | included, £20."’-—Birmingham Daily Mail. all | ‘* We know of theatres where, in spite of in- creased prices, in the late afternoon and even- | ing, it was a physic al impossibility to pack }another person into the house—and a good many were packed, nevertheless.”’ The Bioscope. They were filmed first, we suppose. ‘* Home Government sidering the ad- visability of a forged Joan. Jamaica Daily Chronicle. It is supposed that this startling and quite untruthful announcement was due to a misreading of the report that as Chancellor of the Exchequer Mr. | McKenna was “ forging ahead.” isc Ls ”

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAR iVARI. [December 8, 1915, ik ~ i a- = = f z —- av i \ GAP BE SEE a stone in my sling which I discharged with great promptitude. Only a few THE LUCK OF THE LIGHTHOUSE. Crossley is an old friend of i before I had been looking at the /we were at the same public school, | plates in Turner's Picturesque Views ‘of where he went by the name of “ Kinks” | the Southern Coast, and had copied out | —but we hardly ever meet without} a passage from the letterpress accom- | argufying. He is quite sound about} panying TurNER’s wonderful picture of the War, the need of crushing Prus-| the Eddystone Lighthouse. ‘“ Did you’ sian militarism and so forth, but he! ever hear the story of Louis XIV. and has an unpleasant way of discount-, the Eddystone Lighthouse?” I asked. ing all claims on behalf of the Allies “No,” said Crossley rudely, “nor yet to a greater humanity in the conduct: the story of WitL1AM THE ConQuEROR of the War. His favourite phrase is! and the Crystal Palace; and I don’t see “Six of one and half-a-dozen of the what on earth it has to do with the other.” When I met him at the club | question.” last week his candour was at high-| “You don’t? Very well then.” And water mark. When I quoted the latest I produced and read my extract, which | instance of German frightfulness, he’ runs as follows :— at once retorted, “ Well, what about) ‘ While the second Eddystone Light- Louis XIV. ? ‘house was being erected under Mr. “Louis XIV.,” I cautiously replied, Rudyard’s superintendence, a circum-' “flourished some two hundred and fifty stance took place which may be thought | years ago. But he wasn’t called the’ to possess an interest that will justify ‘Grand Monarque’ for nothing.” its insertion on the authority of Mr. ‘Oh, indeed,” said Crossley. ‘ Per-; Smeaton. Louis XIV. being at war haps you are not aware that he waged | with England during the erection of this war with the utmost barbarity against building, a French privateer took the the Dutch, the Austrians, and the! men at work upon the Eddystone Rock, Prussians?” | together with their tools, and carried Now a knowledge of the campaigns them to France, when the Captain ex- of Louis XIV. is not my strong point, | pected a reward for his achievement. but by a pure piece of good luck I had While the captives lay in prison, the PRUSSIANISED HISTORY. OF ENGLAND. SEQUEL TO A WELL-KNOWN STORY ABOUT KING ALFRED. transaction reached the ears of the French Monarch, who immediately ordered them to be released and the captors to be put in their places, de- claring that, though he was at war with England, he was not so with mankind. He therefore directed the men to be sent back to their work with presents, observing that the Eddystone Light- house was so situated as to be of equal use to all nations.” ‘Good egg,” observed Crossley, “ or at least a good egg in parts.” Commercial Candour. os *s Denicrovs Ham anp TONGUE, None like it in Leicester.”’ Leicester Daily Mail. ‘“ EASTERN THEATRE, Serious GERMAN REVERSE. SOIAUTG AVAL TWIOddg S,waLaay Grocott's Penny Mail (South Africa). The printer rose to the occasion. ‘* Mr. Long will move the second reading of the Government’s Bill to stop increases of rent in the House of Commons.”’ Daily News. In self-defence, we suppose, since the present Parliament proposes to occupy the premises for a longer period than was originally intended.

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15. the tely the de- vith ind. » be nts, xht- jual “ec or g of s of the ipy 1an DecEMBER 8, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE IMMINENT PROBLEM. | | I sHut up the catalogue hopelessly and put it on the table. “ As for me,” I said firmly, “I have | decided about my Christmas presents ; | I shall give everybody putties.” *“ Youcan’t,” said Barbara; ‘“‘ remem- | ber what Aunt Alicia said when she| | sent us the second-hand table-centre, | ‘It’s not the gift, it is the spirit be- | hind it.’” | I frowned. “Tf your Aunt Alicia knew the spirit | behind the coffee-machine she got from | me last year——”’ But Barbara cut me short. “Your besetting sin,” she said, “is | laziness. What you ought to do is to ‘find out people’s tastes—and then the whole thing is perfectly simple.” “Putting that into practice,” I re- joined rather bitterly, “what do you | consider are the tastes of my nephew, | Richard Edward Keith ?” | “Poor little mite!” said Barbara. “Why, he’s only eleven months old.” | “For all that,” I said, “his tastes | may be very pronounced, for all you| know. Bibs, for instance, may be like | the collars I have seen advertised, which explain the wearer. ‘The bib which proclaims the business baby,’ or ‘Smart gent’s bib for the babe about | town.’ ” | Barbara sighed. | “Children are certainly difficult,” | she said. | ‘Then,’ I went on, ‘there is Joan, | who, I admit is getting on and will | never see five again; but she doesn’t | seem to have developed any tastes.” * Dolls,” murmured Barbara. “ Joan already has twenty-seven,” I | answered. ‘“ Of course, if you like to en- courage large families amongst women without independent means % | ‘Don’t be ridiculous,” said Barbara. “ Well, there you are!” I returned. | Put your theory into practice, and | where are we?” | “I wasn’t talking about babies,” said | Barbara. | | “Considering,” I answered, “that Christmas is a show run entirely for, | babies of all ages, I don’t consider that | | you have the root of the matter in fou.” “Well,” she said, “adults can have} their tastes studied, anyway.” “ Do you think, Barbara,” I remarked sternly, “that I am going to spend | December going round like a private detective, spying on the little peculiari- ties of my friends? ‘The innocent | conceits that like a needless eye-glass | or black patch give those who wear them harmless happiness.’ Do you know who wrote that, Barbara?” | —a married woman and a fine church- wii «fl \ Rt ae Hil \\ \e N \ . Hosier (displaying latest invention in collar-pins). ‘‘ KEEPS COLLAR AND TIE IN PERFECT REPOSE, SiR. IT IS AN ESSENTIAL TO SMARTNESS OF APPEARANCE IN THE TRENCHES.”’ said Barbara] “Of course,” said Barbara, “if it | |turned out that it was going to be a I | burglar or something——”’ I waved the objection aside. “Oh,” I said, ‘“‘one would have to have a conventional phrase for that. | People like the Kaiser, for instance, “Tf Providence was really provident,” | would just get: ‘The wife of F. began Barbara slowly, “ babies would| Hohenzollern, Esq., of a great, great | be labelled when they arrive.” grief.’ You see that would cover any- “You mean,” I said, “that it would thing in the nature of a failure. appear in The Times: ‘The wife of | “And it would simplify Christias | Marmaduke George Bone of a stock-| amazingly,” I added, “ white spats for | broker.’ ”’ financiers, dolls’ houses for married “ Something like that,” she said. women, and some assorted women’s “Or,” I went on eagerly, ‘Of twins| movements for babies that were going to grow up into spinsters.” But meanwhile I don’t know what to give either to Richard or to Joan. ‘“GEoRGE ExtoT,” promptly. * Bother,” I said; “I thought could plough you on that one; and it isn’t very helpful either, unless I give} Richard a monocle and Joan a powder- puff.” warden.” My dear Barbara, what a splendid idea!”

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. [Decemprr 8, 1915, AT THE FRONT. WE are enjoying a rest. There can be no doubt about this, because we have been told we are, on very high authority. When the British soldier has been into trenches and out again, with an occasional battle to break the monotony, for a period of fifteen months he always gets a rest. To a rest two items are indispen- sable :— 1. Mud. 2. A nine-hours’ day. Only a few days ago we did not know this. When they told us we were going to be rested, though we did not believe it for a moment, we imagined that rest consisted in long hours of sleep, warm comfortable billets, per- haps a dinner or a matinee now and again, and a few bright, brief and brotherly parades. Then we were sentenced to rest. We marched deliberately out of a civilized town to a soggy malodorous marsh, where some war-weary A.8.C. driver had got tired of the tents he was carrying, and dropped them disgustedly into a couple of feet of mud, hoping no one would notice. But no, the eagle eye of some red- spangled controller of our destinies spotted the jettison and said, “It’s a rest camp!” And that is how we came to be where we are. There are no temptations. The mud is not deep enough to drown oneself, and no good soldier ever uses his rifle or side-arm to commit suicide with. for luminous footballs. But we regret ! to report that there have already been several cases of men not singing either on the line of march or during the leisurely evening hours which should be given over to harmless revelry. Footballs of the required type, more- over, have as yet not been forwarded to us. Fortunately, however, we have nu- merous other healthy occupations in our copious spare time. We are kept busy by all sorts of red-hatted explorers | whose curiosity goads them into visiting | the less wet parts of the Rest Camp, | and, after complaining that we have allowed it to get into a disgraceful condition, inquiring—(a) Why we do not build huts? (6) What is the ration of candles and pepper per man? (c) Why we do not take more care of the men’s health ? (d) Why we mollycoddle the men ? and, lastly and most humor- ously—(e) Whether we have any com- plaints, and if we have why we have not forwarded them to the Proper Quarter? It is stated, but unconfirmed, that one of our newest subalterns met some Commander-in-Chief or something the other day and was asked by h'm in tie intervals of saluting what was the extent of the field-ration; whereon he replied, ‘Three ounces.” The General clicked his teeth smartly and asked the subaltern whether that was all he knew about fuel; and the subaltern said that in the trenches indeed the men got two pounds and a half and in billets four pounds, but in this deleted spot it wouldn’t run to more than three ounces, and you had to steal that. As For two days we lay in a condition | the subaltern is still uncashiered these of bleak and comatose resignation,|exchanges may not be as reported. while our complaints passed through the usual official channels to the usual official terminus. (Wicker, 2s. 6d.) On the third day we received our programme. It provided for nine hours’ military training per diem—with inter- vals for meals; for there was this generosity in their justice—we were not required to do the nine hours straight off. This routine began at day- light and ended at dusk. In case any slacker should be cast down by this prospect, the very Exalted and Benevolent Person who had planned the Rest visited us and assured us that this was to be a complete vacation ; that the men were to be encouraged to play football and hold sing-songs after afternoon parade. Singing and football, it appeared, would keep the men thoroughly cheerful. The idea was, of course, quite new to us. We asked him how many hours after dusk he would like the men to sing for; and when he had gone away we indented | | | i ‘up recruiting. The men surveyed their new home on arrival in silent bewilderment. They received the programme without com- ment. It took two hours’ tactical | training of five units to extract from Private Thomas, who commonly speaks the public mind, the observation, ad- dressed to the four winds during an! “easy”: “And to think that there’s some as would spoil an ’eavenly ’oliday like this ’ere with grousin’ 1” | THE WAR POEM. THE Senior Watch-keeper sat at the Ward Room table busily biting a pen- holder as he stared at a sheet of fools-. cap. “ What’s up?” asked the Paymaster. | “T’ve got an idea. It’s a deuce of | an idea. Poem, you know. The sort of thing to shake people up. Buck | Give people to think furiously and all that sort of thing,” replied the scribe. ‘eccentricity of old gentlemen from Peru or the levity of young ladies from 'humorous metrical treatment for the it ll come easy enough. “Good on you,” said No.1. “ Want any help?” | “Yes, you can all lend a hand. see the idea of it is to show the | hounders at home the unity of the | enemy and their enthusiasm for war. | How they all think alike and their | singleness of purpose. The sort of | You | thing that soldier Johnnie did, the | sportsman who wrote about steam- | engines and things.” “RupyarD Kipuina,” hazarded the | “ Pay.” | “That's him,” said the poet. “I want lots of names of German places so as to show people what they are doing all over the world. How's this for a start— ‘*In Walfisch Bay I heard them say ?’”’ “There’s a real swing about that,” | said No. i, “ but it’s not German.” “ What’s not German?” “ Walfisch Bay.” “T don’t see hqw I can alter that line,” said the poet with firmness. | “Who’s to know I didn’t hear Germans talking there?” “ How would this do for a start ’’— from the “ Pay ”— ‘* Across the bund at Swakopmund ?”’ “Who knows if they have a bund?” objected the poet. ‘1 must be accurate to have any world-influence. Give us some more good German names.” | “Dar es Salaam,” from No. 1. “ Rotten,” said the poet. “That’s Arabic, and no decent poem could fit it | in anywhere.” | “Well,” said the “Pay,” “here’s | another start :— ‘* Tt fills my soul with mournful wonder That Huns still walk the Apollo Bunder.”’ The poet was inclined to doubt the accuracy of this statement and also | rejected it as not within the immediate scope of his endeavour. “There are lots of Germans in Shanghai,” interrupted the young | Doctor, ‘and in Hong Kong, the Governor F | The poet remarked with considerable | dignity that he was not starting a Limerick competition. No doubt the Balham might lend themselves to amusement of callow medical students in peace, but what lots of people didn’t yet realise was the fact that we were | at war. I ventured to break the sticky silence | by politely asking if he thought the poem would take him long. “ Not if silly asses don’t interrupt,” he said. ‘ When I once get started, It’s all here,” he added, tapping his forehead. “It'll

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15, Vant | You the the | war. their rt of | the | eam- | the “cc I laces y are ; this 999 hat,” > that ness. hear t = ” 1d 9 3 urate ve us hat ’s fit it ere’s r der.’ t the also ‘diate is in ‘oung | the rable | ng a| t the | from from s to r the dents lidn’t were ilence t the ‘upt,” arted, ere,” “Tt ll | December 8, 1915.] Mr. Pessimist (cheering up for once). ‘‘ BrirIsH MESOPOTAMIAN SUCCESS. Mrs. Pessimist. ‘‘ THAT’S THE WORST OF IT. THEY MESS UP ALL THEIR SUCCESSES.’ bea bit soul-stirring when finished. I'll get on with it now so as to clew it up before turning in.” At breakfast the Corporal of Ward toom Servants asked if the piece of paper he had just picked up from under my chair were mine. Thereon was written :— In Walfisch Bay I heard them say, I heard them say in Walfisch Bay. The poet had clewed up before turn- | ing in. Great talkers these Germans. ‘*Mr. Bryce feared that business would be strangled by the excess profits tax, as in many cases the money to pay it would have to be buried.’’—Morning Paper. Doubtless a development of intensive culture. The buried talent has hitherto been considered unproductive. ‘** Steeplejack wanted. Top price toa really good man.”—Provincial Paper. | In this trade there is always room at the top. ‘Wanted a Greyhound, preferred black, height 75 to 80in., male, thoroughbred.—F ull particulars to be sent to Miss - , Rotterdam, Holland.’’—Our Dogs. Dutch hares had better look out when the 6ft. 8in. greyhound lands on their shores. PUNCH, OR TH EK LONDON CHAR THE LAST CHANCE. (A Romance a la mode.) | A Gusty rollicking wind screamed and whistled over the long white road that curled like a ribbon on the bare face of the moorland, buffeting and swaying aman and a girl who struggled against it. The man’s eyes, hardened to all weathers by long spells in the | trenches, swept keenly and searchingly, almost fearfully, over the waste, as i he were looking for something he feared ‘was not there, some help, perhaps, \some opportunity. His uniform and his scars showed that he had faced his country’s enemies; but here, on an English moor, he was palpably a prey to nervousness. Tension and the con- sciousness of approaching crisis were written in the set of his jaw and on} every line of his lean sunburnt face; | at times the blood throbbed painfully in his temples as a gust of hopelessness | swept over him, a suffocating dread was to be irrevocably ruined, to remain a memory to shrink from all his days. | Had he looked at his companion he might have seen the questioning, sym- pathetic, perhaps pleading expression | in her eyes; but his gaze seemed riveted on the roadside. | And then suddenly, in a little hollow [VARI. 477 beside the road, a mere furrow in the heather, he flung himself on his knees and looked towards her dumbly, be- seechingly ; and she stood above him, a slender figure, her skirts spread round | him by the wind, and the face that she bent towards him was anxious, pitying, almost motherly. And then with steady hand, albeit a trembling heart, his last match, and lit a pipe of Benodoro tobacco; flushed and trium- phant he rose, and she, cheeks aflame and eyes shining with the glory of desire satisfied, lit her Benodoro cigarette at the glow. [ApvT. Commercial Candour. A Bombay merchant advertises : ‘‘This butter, manufactured from the best cream, will stand any high temperature if kept in a cool place.’’ |while she held her breath, he struck ‘* Certificated merchant captains and officers | should not enlist having regard to the para- sipping.’’—Glasgow Herald. A nasty one for Lord p’ABERNON. ‘‘The Germans [in East Africa] were in used both day and night.”’ Manchester Guardian. As the Irish emigrant said of England : “The sun shines always there.” ‘that this, his last afternoon of leave,| mount importance of maintaining British | | possession of heliographic plant which they | | } | |

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. ' s ” swine, 478 CONSTABULARY TACT. We emerge from the police-station and fall into step together as we start our beat. “T can’t spare time to go to the police court this week,” says my com- rade. “Nor I; but it would be just our luck if something turned up to- night.” “ Well, we must be tactful.” “That’s it — courtesy and Unless there’s a murder.” We are just exchanging the War yarns of the day when a loud shouting is heard from a side-street. “T’m afraid that’s on our beat,” I murmur. “ Let’s walk slowly so that they can see us coming.” Very majestically we march down, making as much noise as possible; but the row made by the combatants is so great that they don’t hear us. Let me describe the military position. The entrance to the fort—a small house —is guarded by a lady in mysterious white attire armed with a saucepan. From the fact that she has bare feet I judge that a night alarm has turned out the guard. The slip of garden in front is held by a gentleman simply attired in a pair of trousers and braces. The temperature is about 40. The moral temperature a little above 212. A stout lady leads the attacking party. The garden gate is either jammed or locked and she is making valiant efforts to get over the fence. Behind her a gentleman, who combines in his attire a frock-coat, carpet slippers, and a red cricket cap, acts as support. A subtle odour of beer pervades the air. “ Now then—now then—what’s all this?” we say genially but firmly. The stout lady tumbles back from the fence. “She called my son a German swine,” she says, pointing an accusing finger at the lady in white, “and ‘im been twice wounded and once gassed.” One felt that the lady in white lacked discrimination in abuse. “T called ’er a German swine,” tests the lady in white. ‘We got evidence ter prove it,” trousers plus braces. ‘You - called - my - son - a - German- says Frock Coat with tre- mendous emphasis. ‘I’m a Briton, I am. I got British blood in me, and tact. pro- says when @ man stands on my feet I let ‘im ’ave it.” “"Er,” says the stout lady—*I’ll | push her face in, I will.” She makes another effort to scale the fence. “I’ve got evidence ter prove that she called my son a German swine,” says i she was. | pulous colleague. Wonderful what a bit of tact | | Frock Coat, tapping me confidentially on the shoulder. “’Oo stole the rent-book ?”’ | subject. The stout lady, driven to fury by this | remark, tries to flop over the fence. The moment for tact has arrived. I take her and Frock Coat by the arms. “T can’t hear what you say because of the wretched noise those people make. Come up the street and tell me all about it.” I walk up the street gripping the | stout lady firmly, for I feel that she is the dangerous explosive. ‘Now, Mother,” I say, when she is at the corner, “ why should a respect- able lady like you lower herself to speak to a woman like that?” “Ah, you’re a gentleman, you are. | You see ’er in ’er true colours at once.” She begins a lurid biography of the lady in white—who ought, I feel, to have been dressed in red. Frock Coat taps me on the shoulders after each statement and says, “ I got evidence ter prove it.” “We was talking it over in bed,” says the stout lady, ‘and it come over me that I must get up and tell ’er what Calling a wounded ’ero a German swine!” “We got evidence ter preve it,” sists Frock Coat. “Well, Mother, suppose you go back to bed. If you touch that woman and she gives you in charge, I'll have to run you in. Now it would pain me awfully to run in a lady like you.” “T’m a Briton,” says Frock Coat. “T got a Briton’s feelings and evi- dence.” « And a weak ches’,” lady. I jump at the point. “Out on a cold night like this. What will you say to your brave son, Ma, if his father gets pneumonia ?” “Albert, go in at once,’ stout lady. The stout lady pauses on the door- step. ‘ To-morrer, I'll go round and tell ‘er jus’ what you said about ’er, an’ smash er bloomin’ winders.” I wait for my colleague. up radiating tact. “What did you do with the others?” “Oh, told them not to get mixed up with a low lot like that. Now they’re safe in bed.” “The other lady's going round to smash their windows to-morrow.” “That’s all right,” says my unscru- “ We're not on duty says the stout ’ orders the He comes then. does.” We pace the darkened streets medi- tating on the advantages of tact. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CH. ARIVARL. says the | lady in white, suddenly changing the | Up in the hills, some seasons ago, | scale ; So I was when the man came by | And, knowing his business, bought | this pi. | I’m not very clever; I do no tricks; | But my reply to each lordly pup per-|Is “Patience, my lad, till the days |Then short is their breath and glazed [DECEMBER 8, 1915, “c | Bag (ln Indian Dog.) | A half-caste dog-thief had me on show ; And you’d never suspect, to see me now, That I went those days by the name of Chow”; Trish and Airedale and more am I, But mostly bazaar-dog—eall it “ pi.” Black of coat with a vest of white And nothing about me approaching right, An Irish head and a curling tail, And legs that haven't been drawn to I sleep and swallow ‘enough for six ; And when we go out on the hunt for | jack | I’m always in at the tail of the pack; | But I’ve still got teeth for him who’d | try To burgle the house in charge of the pi. | English dogs, six months in the year, 5 > ee ? , Look at me sniffing and say, ‘“* What’s | § b | here?” heat up.” their eye, But I’m quite happy—for I’m a pi. When your terrier’s down with a score of ills And retriever and spaniel must off to the Hills, When the Memsahib’s gone and the punkahs play And the nights are longer and wovrse than day, Into my kingdom then come I, And Master says, “Thank God for the pi.” We boast no morals, we claim no birth, And our figures are often a source of | mirth ; But we’re always cheery, we don’t go wrong, We'll love you kindly and love you long ; And you'll find out here that it’s best to buy The dog of the country—and that’s the pi. ‘‘Charming old Smuggler’ s Cottage, modern- ised (Kent); suit officer’s wife.” Morning Paper. But if we are to gather that the fasci- nating owner goes with the premises the officer, especially if he is a Custom House Officer, nig have other views.

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to sht for WS ed re to he for th, go ou ast re eS mM VS.

] | | of reset type. Since the first edition appeared in DecemBer 8, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE Lé INDON CHARIVARL

SSS + SS SSS cISSsS ~~ WA WYN NS < \S \ WY yy N SY YY \ wa. WAR AN WON ee ae Ke SQ VS ‘i \\s \e = \ F \\ \ \ \X \ ‘ WN \ of A Instructor. ‘‘ FLYNN, YE’VE NOT BEEN ATTENDING.

PROMISING TRENCH FIGHTER. WHAT DO YE KNOW, NOW, WITH ALL THE Private Flynn. ‘‘Ocu, WELL, I KNOW IF YE’D WANT TO HIT A MAN OVER THE HEAD, IT’S THE INSTRUCTION I’M AFIHER GIVING?” THICK IND YE’D BE DOIN’ UT WITH.”’

: OUR BOOKING-OFFICE, (By Mr. Punch’s Staff of Learned Clerks.) Opviousty at this time there is very little new to be said about so established a classic as Sir Sripnery Ler’s Life of Shakespeare. One can but give it the salute to which its rank and record entitle it. The occasion of the salute is its reappearance, revised and enlarged by the author, and equipped by Messrs. Surrn, Exper in the attractive bravery November, 1898, Shakespearean research has been both active and fruitful ; the resulting fresh knowledge, gained by Sir SrpNey himself or by the fellow-workers to whom his Preface pays tribute, has been embodied in the present volume. | Especially is this the case with the documents that eluci- date the stage-history of the Elizabethan era. There is also a fund of highly interesting information derived by | the author while the volume was in course of preparation from the archives at Stratford and from the wills at Somerset House of SHAKESPEARE’S Stratford friends. An examination of them seems one of the things that one is astonished to hear no one else had previously thought of doing. Anyhow, here are the results, adding greatly to the value of a book of which the publishers state their belief that it ‘‘ makes a direct personal appeal at this period of British history to every reader of British nationality.” And so say all of us! Presumptuous as it may appear to question the annexation policy of the official postry depart- ment at Berlin, the undeniable fact remains that, in spite of all posthumous temptations, the author of Henry V.

remains an Englishman. So Sir Srpney Lee’s reminder of this comes, especially at the season of book-buying for Christmas, at a timely hour, Through a long cheerful life Lord RepEspate has known more of men and cities than did Utysses. He has studied both with keen eyes, and is happily gifted with a picturesque style that presents his recollections in vivid form. He is old enough to have seen Louis Puivipre strolling along the terrace of the Tuilleries. He knew Countess CASTIGLIONE, whose vaporous drapery, displayed at a ball at the Tuilleries, shocked the Empress Euctnie. He saw the funeral pro- cession of the Duke of Weturnarton and the fight between HENAN and Sayers. He was at Eton in Hawrrey’s time and at Oxford in Pusey’s. He shot four buffaloes in the Far West and played the cornet at the Hanpet Festival. | He was an intimate friend of King Epwarp VII., to whose memory he devotes an illuminating chapter. He knew Anp En Karser, the famous Arab chief who fought France for years. He was intimate with RicHarp Burton and looked in upon BrigHam Younc at Salt Lake City. One of the most charming of his personal recollections recalls a visit to Gant- BALDI at Capri. In a brief sentence he strikés the keynote of the Liberatar’s character: ‘Simplicity combined with great dignity.” He was on intimate terms with WHISTLER, CartyLe, Rossetti, FREDERICK LEIGHTON, DisraEewi, Lord Henry Lennox, Lord Wotsetey and Lord Ranporx Cuurcuiny. Here is a marvellous, perhaps unique, portrait gallery. Round it linger vivid Memories, which Messrs. Hurtcuinson publish in two portly volumes. Temptation to

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| romance. The accuracy of the | | the | grow old.” 480 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 1915, [December 8, quote is hard to resist, but space in Mr. Punch’s Booking Office is limited. One quotation appreciated by the Young Men seated to-day round the Old Mahogany Tree, under whose shade F. C. B. for many years presided, must be given. Writing of schoolmates at Eton Lord RepEsDALE says: ‘“ I must mention Sir Francis Burnanp, who for so many years led the merriment of the nation. Did I talk of memories ? Here at least is no memory, but a Happy Thought, for he still lives as gay, as bright, as laughter-loving and laughter-compelling as when he was a Fourth Form Boy. He remains the real Peter Pan, the boy who will never Of his many lifelike portraits the most attrac- tive is that of the author himself. Undesignedly he makes the reader acquainted with a light-hearted, straightforward, resourceful man with a keen sense of humour. Of his genial nature it suffices to say that, dealing with a multitude of men over the space of 796 pages, he sharply criticises only two. They are wider than Poles asunder. One was Lord Joun Russetu; the other—Oscar WILDE. from | Mr. which he has already extracted | so many best- sellers, has now turned his attention to the| fruitful fields of historical | JEFFREY FARNOL, deserting the present age, history of Beltane the Smith | (Sampson Low) is a ation | that need not detain“us ; as for | romance Mr. FARNou's | countless admirers will not. need to be told that this is laid on with no niggardly hand. There are fights and escapes, tortures and love-making to satisfy the most exacting ; | everything in short that the | MQ AL LZzA Z while away a dull evening. In the matter of books of reminiscences I am a little exacting. power of the human “1” is able to hold me. I turn away and browse on fiction. But in Mr. Capper’s bulky volume there is an unaffected gaiety which made me feel, when I It is seldom that the | came to the last page, as if I had been turned out of a cosy | club on a winter night after listening to the discursive conversation of a man with a pleasant voice, a wide experi- ence of men and cities, and a keen sense of humour. In his capacity of Thought-reader Extraordinary to the civilised | world, Mr. and seen everything ; contained in this book. and the cream of his memories is Both as an entertainer and as a CAPPER has been everywhere, met everybody, | collector of things worth remembering he has had unique advantages, every class and nationality; and we have his word for it that he was just as big a success among the Tamil coolies as at Marlborough House. Naturally, thirty years of this sort of thing put a man in an excellent position as a raconteur. These are hard times, when ten-and-sixpence is ten-and-sixpence, but I think I can conscientiously ee ~ recommend the investment of that sum in Mr. Capper. In a world of flux able to count on something; more particularly as in Lon- don, in the month of Decem- ber, one assuredly cannot count upon the rising of the sun. But that “C. E. B.” will have a copy of verses in The Eveniny News is beyond question. Come rain, come shine, there is his punctual Muse, always alert, always pointed, always public demands from its) ingenious and urbane. Such | costume - fiction Mr. Farnor LOOT hl ,of the verses by “C. E. B.” sees that -it gets in good A TEMPORARY LAPSE. (who is also, be it known, measure. Even the chapter-| Distressed Pessimist. ‘‘Ir’s opp—very opp! Bur somenow, |“ Touchstone” in The Daily headings begin with that} JUST AFTER DINNER I NEVER CAN GET MYSELF TO FEEL AS | Vail) as bear upon the War i oe “Sie” 9) ee ee See meres we. he has now collected in a | pleasant trick that has thrilled me since I first met with i it in Windsor Castle. 1 need not conduct you through all the tale of Beltane’s adventures. There’s lots and lots of it; beginning with “ How Beltane lived within the Green- wood” (mark me that word “Greenwood!”) and ending with “ How they came to Pentavalar City,” and “in the moonlit dusk she gave her lips to his.” But of course before this happened there was the villain, a right caitiff varlet named Pertolepe the Red, to be overcome in fair fight, then spared with that super-sportsmanship that always sways the hero in the early chapters of books of this sort, then to gain, as villains will, a temporary but terrific ascendency and finally—but I must not discount the satisfaction of that finally. In short a pleasant yarn of its not very un- familiar kind; and if at times you feel that its wanderings | have not taken you further from Wardour Street than, say, Soho Square, this but giveth a heartening sense of security to the timorous. Beshrew me! Master Farnor, but so jocund a screed should be a-printing from now till Candlemas. Marry come up! I have not the pleasure of Mr. Atrrep CappEr’s acquaintance, but, after reading his A Rambler's Recollec- tions and Reflections (ALLEN AND Unwin), I wish I had; for the impression I get from that book is that he is an extremely geet sort and just oad man to have by one to little shilling volume entitled, Fife and Drum (Stmpxty, MarsHatyt & Co.), and I have found them as excellent in their re-reading as when I conned them first. May their author long continue to be one of the marvels of his age! The Catalogue of Christmas Books, which has been issued co-operatively by the Publishers’ Association of Great Britain and Ireland, is designed to help the public to a choice of books of the year or of the season and to remind them of the best standard works. Booksellers, especially in the country, have long been in need of a representative catalogue of saleable books, and here they have it in a most seductive form, admirably arranged and delightfully illus- ‘trated. It is to be supplied to the retail trade at a small fraction of its actual cost for free distribution to the public ; so nobody has any excuse left for not buying the best books that are to be had. Commercial Modesty. From a brewer's advertisement :— ‘* No order for less than one dozen bottles can b2 accepted. It will therefore be necessary for our Half-Dozen Customers to forward their instructions each fortnight.’’—Birmingham Daily Mail. FOR DRINKS WITH MEALS.” Morning Paper. This seems rather long for grace—even with drinks! ‘*HALF-HOUR’S GRACE uncertainty it is good to be | for his is a performance which appeals to | and |

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way ume mn I ‘OSy | sive | eri- | his | ised dy, s is AS a que ; to | wr it lies this sa nce usly it of and | be ing ; 4On- em- yunt sun. lave Lin ion. nere ‘ays Lys uch i wn, aily War n @ KIN, t in heir a! ued reat oa lind ally tive 10st lus- nall lic ; oks will heir to hear the CHANCELLOR’s speech that seats in the public galleries of the | Reichstag were at a premium. At Westminster, on the contrary, the pub- | lic will not listen to peace at any price. Prestpent Wutson’s Message to | Congress, in its denunciation of traitors | in the United States and its avoidance of names (German or other), reminds one of the Perthshire Highlander who had had a quarrel with the Duke of ArHott at Dunkeld. On going home he narrated his interview with his Grace in forcible and picturesque lang- |uage. ‘“ But surely,” said the guidwife, “ye didna say a’ that tae the Duke? ” “Na, na,” said the worthy, only stood in ta middle o’ ta street and swore at | lairge.”’ Asubscriber to The New- port and Market Drayton Advertisercomplains of the activities of the Censor, to whom he attributes the | fact that all that was left | in that journal of a por- | trait-group of the officers of a well-known regiment was a few faint smudges. We rather think that the official blue pencil slipped and what he really meant | to obliterate was a state- ment on the same page that “Peace can only be permanent if the Kaiser is | removed—by Edgar Wal- lace.” Our authors ought to be spared these incitements to assassination. & * AVERAGE Extract from a soldier’s letter (for- warded by Censor): “They are send- ing intoxating shells over to the ger- mans now. supos thats where our rum issue is going. and then they talk | about no treating in England.” * | Mr. Kniaut’s s explanation of his un- fortunate candidature in the Cleveland | Division is that, being forbidden by the Liquor Control Board to “stand SAMUEL,” he had to stand himself. On learning that Marshal von HinvensurG had told a newspaper- man that war was suiting him “like a seaside-trip,” Grand Admiral von TrrPitTz is said to have remarked that, for himself, war suited him like an inland excursion. 7 If ourstockings are empty this Christ- | were engaged one day last w veek i in de- “* she | THIS IS NOT ITIES, IF WE INDISPENSABLE. mas we shall at any rate know whom | VOL. CXLIX, DeceMBER 15, 1915, PUN ‘CH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. 481 to blame for it. The Germans have regulations recalls a famous cross- CHARIVARIA. taken to eating reindeer, and a first examination :— So great was the anxiety in Berlin consignment of 6,000 animals hasbeen! Counsel. Are you a heavy drinker ? slaughtered in Sweden and sent across Witness. That’s my business. the Baltic. It will be hard for Santa; Counsel. Any other business ? Claus to raise a team for his sleigh. Tommy’s father. ‘het gone to the Front, and his much-loved Uncle Geof- frey had a post in the War Office. This was Tommy’s prayer: “ God bless dear Daddy and bring him home safe from the War; and God bless Uncle Geoffley Three Justices of the King’s Bench ciding whether a colliery pumpman was rightly convicted of aiding and abetting a vendor of refreshments in breaking | the Sunday Observance Act, passed in}and bring him home safe from the the reign of Kina CHARLES THE SEconD | War Office.” of pious memory, by purchasing three | pennyworth of sweetmeats. And yet; It is rumoured that a national there are parsimonious people who say we have too many judges. * }economy campaign is to be conducted |on the lines of Lord Drrsy’s recruiting . 'scheme, and that it will begin with the Answer to Correspondent :—Yes, the | sending of a letter to every ‘householder great DELANE was only twenty- -three | deemed to be ina position ‘to economise. This is to be followed up by & personal cauvass, con- ducted by volunteer in- quisitors of both sexes ; and persons who have made adequate sacrifices will be furnished with a badge in the form of War Loan voucher. The whole scheme will be ex- titled, ‘“‘ Social amenities, and how to promote them,” A Bird of Good Omen. ‘An immense crow that witnessed the arrival of Lord STORES. IT IS MERELY AN | Kitchener at the palace cheered ORDINARY ALLOWANCE OF commMop- | Britain’s War Secretary as ADVERTISERS’ ACCOUNT OF WHAT Is _ | heartily as it did Mr. Denys |Cochin, Minister of France, } thus evidencing that the heart ‘of the Greek people is with the Allies.” Montreal Evening News. ‘ : B CORNED —-_ iv ecor Ge 7 AN A.S.C. INFANTRYMAN WITH THE MAN GUARDING ARE TO BELIEVE THE when he became Editor of The Times; but he was not the Boy-Ep whom the | Americans are dispensing with. ‘The State | nounce whether it has determined to revoke db exequator of Dr. von Nuber, the Austrian Consul General in New York.’ Morning Paper. We are tempted “to wonder whether Mr. RoosEevett knew what he wa talking about when he described the Presidential message as “ worthy of a | Everybody knows that the Austrians | Byzantine logothete.” Byzantine is| have had a lot of trouble with the the last adjective that applies to| | Poles, but we hdd no idea that they Dr. WILSON, and a logothete was not | _had abolished the Equator. a “word juggler,” as at least one of| Mr. RoosEVELT’s commentators sup- | poses, but an official who might be de- | scribed as “ Secretary to the Treasury.” ‘*My Greek informant himself saw a party |of Austrian and German gunners starting for | Chanak (at the Narrows), and a railway official ‘told him that a b: ittery of German 10mm. guns had recently been sent there. As a proof of the rigours of the| Moramy Pager. Macedonian winter a correspondent at | Narrow guns for Narrow a the British Headquarters states that | ; ink froze in fountain pens. Even the! Censor’s pencils looked quite blue. ** Bucks.—Unique family p iansion, dating back to the VIIIth Ce ntury.’ Land and Water, Nov. 27th. J bewreett in a pamphlet en- | Department refuses to an- | ‘* Bucks.—Unique family mansion, dating | The attempt mi ‘the advocates of a| back to the XI Century.’ “ Business Government” to capture} Land and Water, Dec. 4th. the PosrMAsTER- GENERAL’S seat as Three centuries in one week! It re- a protest against the new liquor minds one of C. B. Fry. BB

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Dec ney mR 1i 5, 1915. | CULTURE AND THE COLOSSUS. (‘*A giant statue of Admiral von Tirpitz, similar to Berlin’s | Hindenburg, for nailing purposes, will shortly be erected in Wilhelms- hafen. . The Grand Admiral is posing in uniform, with oilskins, seaboots and sou’-wester . holding a telescope in ‘the left hand, | while the right is reaching out for his instruments. The eyes are | gazing into space, far away over the distant seas, where the heroes of Germany’s sea-power carry out his orders . . . ”’ Wilhelmshafener Zeitung. The Berlin Academy of Art has protested against the scheme ‘in the interests of the prestige of our German Art and Kultur.” ) Hiacu o’er the harbour where his squadrons ride Collecting limpets on their leisured keels, Snug in their dug-out, safely barred inside | + From every wave that chops and wind that squeals, Behold the effigy of Trrpirz graven “For nailing purposes” at Wintiam’s Haven! | Colossal in his oilskins see him stand, | His giant trotters booted for the main ; A telescope employs his larboard hand, | A rude sou’-wester’ tops his teeming brain, And, fashioned on a supernatural scale, His hoary whiskers creak before the gale. Note, too, the gaze of that Tremendous Tar, With what a searching eye he scans and scouts The faint horizon’s limits, ranging far To get his High Sea Navy’s whereabouts, | And finds the billowy prospect strangely bare Because the High Sea Navy isn’t there. Meanwhile he stretches forth, to touch his gear, A fist to starboard, so by wireless means | To let his views impinge upon the ear | Of any remnant of his submarines, | Bidding their brave commanders work his will, And try to catch a few more babes to kill. And worshippers, not waiting till he’s dead, | Propose to hammer homage, fore and aft, | Into his frame, from heels to wooden head (Brass homage for Old Brazen-Face), and graft A wealth of pimples on the Grand Sea-Rover With any nails that Hinpensura leaves over. What though the pundits of Imperial Art Lift a protesting academic bleat ? This is the darling of the nation’s heart, Made lovelier by the Lusitania feat ; The people cries for nails! let none usurp its Right to select the fitting meed for Trrrirz! O. S. MY MOUSTACHE, Every day since my papers had gone in I had had a good look at it, morning and evening. When I inclined my head sideways some of it really seemed quite long and bushy ; but viewed full-face I must admit it looked somewhat scanty. Still, although its growth was slow it was un- doubtedly sure. I occasionally—about 465 times a day—!|s ran the tips of my fingers along it, and none of it rubbed off. I had even pulled it with tweezers, and it had not come out, I showed it to a few chosen friends, and after one had said that nitrate of silver was good for removing moles, and another had observed that all the best nigger- minstrels invariably blacked their ears, too, and I had ultimately explained what it was, they unanimously agreed that it could never be taken for anything but a moustache, though in the long-clothes stage. Henee | I hoses that by the | time I was due to report myself for duty to my C.O. it | would not disgrace me. And now I was actually 2n route for my battalion head- | quarters at Puddlecombe-on-the-Ooze. Before I had lunched at the railway-station restaurant I had taken a glance at myself in one of the many mirrors the establish- ment possessed. My moustache was still there, but look- ing a trifle wasted, I thought, and I began to wonder whether I had moulted any of it on the way without noticing it. However, after I had lunched (and I must own that I did myself exceptionally well) I took a final look in the glass, and to all appearances I was as well equipped as the hairiest Ainu. “I shall not be ashamed of that, at least,” I said to myself as I settled down in a corner of the carriage for my three- hours’ — to Puddlecombe. « What’ s that dirty — on your lip?” “ea the Colonel suddenly as I was in the middle of explaining to him who I was. “That ’s what puzzles me,” remarked the Adjutant before I could reply. ‘I asked him about it, and his answers were suspiciously—well, to say the least of it, suspicious.” I started with surprise. 1 could swear that the only remark made to me by the Adjutant had been, “ And | how are they all at home?” However, I let that pass. “It’s intended to be a moustache, Sir,” 1 began. “JT don’t care what it’s intended to be,” snapped the Colonel. “The question is, is it or is it not what it is?” “ Yes, Sir, it isn’t—that is to say, No, Sir, it is,” I stam- mered, astounded beyond measure at the extraordinary importance the Army apparently attached to moustaches. “Well, it’s a precious poor one, whichever it is—or is not, as the case may be. What’s your opinion?’” he asked, turning to the Adjutant. ™ Quite so,’ said the latter. ‘Indeed, one might say | even more 80.” | “Just so,” said the Colonel. ‘ Now let’s get to the | bottom of this matter. Where did you get it from?” “T grew it,” I replied in astonishment. ‘All by my- self,” 1 added, as if pleading extenuating circumstances. “ His parents did not help him with it, I can vouch for that,” observed the Adjutant pleasantly. “What seed did you use?” asked the Colonel. “The very best, I assure you, Sir,” I answered in des- peration, as I began dimly to wonder if there was some War Office fertilizer I ought to have used and through | ignorance had omitted to do so. The Colonel approached me with a magnifying-glass in | his hand. ‘“ Why, it’s skewbald!” he cried. ‘Some of it’s | brown, some of it’s flaxen, and—bless my soul!—some of | it’s ginger. You grew it ina pot! Why on earth didn’t you bed it out?” I racked my brains for some reminiscence of the law governing the billeting of moustaches on private individuals. « King’s Regulations, page 993,” muttered the Adjutant. “IT won't have him,” raved the Colonel, resuming his seat. ‘I won't have an officer that looks like a By the by, what’s the fellow’s name?” I was about to tell him who I was when the Adjutant said, “Charlie Chaplin.” « Excuse me, Sir,” I put in hastily, “it’s nothing of the sort. It’s—— “Do you mean to insinuate,” said the Colonel angrily, “that the Adjutant doesn’t even know your name? I shall have you conducted to the padded mess-room, and the M.O. shall remove your moustache, hair by hair, and wozzle ’em.’ I hadn't the faintest idea what he meant, but it sounded dreadfully degrading. I thought of my mother and sisters,

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| Ducemuen 15, 1915] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 485 ’ Tommy (to his prisoner). **Do you UNDERSTAND ENGLIsu?”’ German, ‘‘I A LEEDLE UNDERSHDAND.’ Tommy. ‘‘ WELL, THEN, BLIMEY! YOU TRY AN’ ’OP IT, AND YOU WON'T ’ALF BLOOMIN’ WELL CoP 1T!”’ and how proud they were of me. If I had only had an | We may as well admit that, if it can be made to work, | aunt or a grandmother I feel almost sure I should have along with the parallel scheme for feeding pigs off cinders | thought of her too. |and poultry on cigar-ends, the collapse of Germany may “Wozzle them, Sir?” I could only repeat blankly, a/| still be far distant. On paper the cattle may do all right, horrible grinding sound coming from the direction of the|but in practice difficulties are sure to arise. In the first Adjutant, who was busy at a cupboard in the corner of the | place the censorship will have to be much more strict than | room. He was obviously getting the wozzler ready. \it is if awkward facts in the situation are not to become the “Wozzle ’em was what I said,” shouted the Colonel.|common gossip of the shippens. There have been many “ Wozzle ’em! WOZ-zleham Junction! Change here for references in the German Press to a general slaughter of Puddlecombe, Sir,” said the Guard, putting his head in at! stock, with a view to preserving the grain supply; this the window. might easily create a panic and put a whole herd off its | =: = SSS Se feed. ‘ = " . Then again—especially in finishing beasts for the fat- | THE PRESS IN WAR TIME. don palite-dtee on careful Senciinesiion in the We observe that a German Professor has just issued a|}matter of diet would be necessary. I shrewdly suspect | manifesto imploring the public not to destroy old news- | that some of our own newspapers, which have already been papers. We have no doubt the German people will obey |accused of helping the enemy, may find their way into the the Professor; they would never have been where they are troughs of the Fatherland. Failing that, a daily ration of had they not obeyed their professors. And yet—and yet'!the Frankfurter Zeitung might be recommended, with the temptation to destroy some of the German newspapers courses of Vorwdirts at intervals as a sedative. But some- must be very great. thing more stimulating world be needed in the later stages, The idea seems to be to use them for bedding for cattle, |the Berliner Tageblatt perhaps. As a final dose nothing and we hastened to consult our Agricultural Expert, whom could possibly be better than a bale of the Katsrr’s tele- we encountered fortunately on our annual visit to Smith-| grams to Trxo. These would have to be taken with a block field. He gave us the following notes :— ‘of Attic salt. In my opinion the thing seems all right, but it won’t be| The experiment will be watched with interest by agricul- very comfortable. I notice however that, as the Professor turists. It may be that at the German Smithfield—if there warms to his work, a wider vision opens before him, and he is such a thing—the patriotic prize-winner of the future suggests that papers might also be used as fodder, so that, | will be announced as ‘“ Prime: Parer Fev.” And at the after having fed the mind of man, they would go on to least it is a happy way of disposing of any scraps of paper nourish the bodies of his dumb friends, and ultimately be which may have threatened to interfere with the Karsrr’s “turned into steaks.” | Destructive Sword.

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486 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. {DecEMBER 15, 1915. OUR “HELPFUL” SERIES. No. V.—Economy. (After the styleof Mr. ARNOLD BENNETT, at it again in “ The Daily News.’’) Now that I have rolled over my opponents—in spite of their references to my fiction—on the question of Invisible Imports it is clear that we must get on to some other topic. From my unique correspondence I judge that there are still some people who don’t understand the argument for war economy. I will therefore restate it and show them in a moment just exactly how it is. To economise is to save money. Money is saved by doing without things—not by adding to one’s ex- penditure. If we all economise faith- fully we shall not spend so | much money as we did) before. If these facts were under- stood there would be less confusion in the public mind than there is, despite the fact that human nature is human nature. There are two ways of economising—the compul- sory and the optional ; that is to say the forced and the | voluntary. Forced economy | may involve a good deal of | inconvenience. Voluntary. economy might have the same effect were it not that human nature is human nature. (You can always get out of it that way.) I will now explain where economy is reasonably to FAST.” without their skins. Our ignorance of the art of feeding is profound and shocking. And you may be sure that a nation capable of these grotesque follies will never economise in food. Why should they ? So that is no good. (c) Dress. — Well, we don’t spend much on clothes. far too little, which is a grotesque folly, profound and shocking. I am con- vinced that there are not enough and never have been enough new gloves in circulation. The duty to economise in dress is a very urgent one; but let us begin by trying to spend enough, when we may hope to have some- thing reasonable to work on in making proper reductions. And mark you, the spectacle of streets full of shabby people, of ill-groomed men in taxi-cabs MOVING STAIRWAY ZA . i= — Soldier. ‘THIS STAIRWAY DON’T SEEM TO ME TO BE MOVING VERY Citizen. “AH, THAT’S BECAUSE YOU’VE BEEN USED TO DASHING | ABOUT AT THE FRONT ON THEM MOTORS AND FLYING-MACHINES.” be expected, Lesese (a) Rent.—Nothing doing here. I blame landlords for the state of affairs, and I blame building societies and mortgagees. Everyone is to blame, but the upshot is that unless the thing were organised on a large scale no results could be expected. If we all moved into smaller houses and the present large houses were allowed to stand empty for a bit, rents for big ‘houses would come down with a run —and then we could all move back. But that demands unanimity. - (b) Foop.—Optional economies might possibly be brought about. But I doubt it. You see human nature is The waste is awful, I admit, for that very reason. To this day all meat is overcooked in Great Britain—every time. To this day potatoes are allowed to stand in cold water before being boiled. To this day toast crusts are cut off before it is served. To this day and to this hour bananas are eaten and dowdy. women at matinées No, no! It must not be. It would adversely affect our spirits. It would play the deuce with our moral. Nothing can possibly be done in this depart- ment. (See “ Helpful” Series No. IV. —‘ Moral.”) (d) Domestic Service.—No; it looks attractive but it can’t be done. You can only dismiss a servant by shutting up part of your house. And you can- not in practice shut up part of a house. It is sure to burst open again, as long as humen——- Any economy on these lines is ultimately uneconomical. (ec) TRaveL.—Great misapprehension exists on this point. It is erroneously supposed that money can be saved by travelling less and travelling cheaper. Don’t you believe it. I can see no earthly reason why those of us who have been accustomed to travel first- class should not continue to do so; nay more, I hold that those who used | All women spend | {to go third might well try the experi- ‘ment. Why not? The money is simply transferred to the railway company, and you may be sure that the railway com- pany will use it to the best possible advantage, whereas if you keep it you are pretty certain to chuck it about in some ridiculous manner. The same ‘argument applies generally. You are quite safe in buying the best cigars, as your tobacconist is sure to be a less reckless spender than you are. Again, what about motors? We read of pleasure-cars. No one ever spoke of a pleasure-dog-cart. Have we forgotten the days when people used to scorch about the country in dog-carts? No one ever spoke of a pleasure-bus or a pleasure-cab. It is pure prejudice. 'Some say that we should sack our ae — ehauffeurs, but that seems to me to be a fallacy. Sup- pose it were generally at- \tempted, Suppose that Sir _Epwarp Grey drove his ‘own car. What should we | think of the spectacle of our | Foreign MixistEr down on _bis hands and knees in the ‘mud of Whitehall looking ‘for a puncture—while the |GREEK MINISTER was wait- ‘ing for him at his office? I can imagine nothing more | destructive of our moral. | (f) Drinxine. — Some- ‘thing should be done here. But it will not be done. The Government seems to |have surrendered to the |miserable argument that ‘human nature is human | nature. | (g) Disrractions.—I see ’ no objection to dancing. |On the contrary a practice which |makes so directly for efficiency should ‘not be neglected as it is. Theatres also are being neglected, which is a pity, for we shall live in a horrific void without them. But above all more money must be spent on books. Nothing steadies public opinion and uplifts moral like a voracious con- sumption of recent novels. Reduction of expenditure must not be confounded with true economy. Here ends my list. The conclusions are, I know, profoundly true. If we all make up our minds once and for all to economise faithfully on the drastic lines here set forth—we can afford to win. A Family Likeness. Underneath a picture of an Egyptian monument :— ‘* The face of Ramses II here closely resem- bles that of his mummy.”’

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1S ll ic ‘0 n DecEMBER 15, Visitor. Scotch Wife. ‘*O ay! A MANOR IN THE AIR. THE stately homes of England have ever numbered some very odd names. Everyone remembers that beautiful Southern retreat whither, to the de- light of the wags, Mr. Banrour often | journeyed for his week-end holiday— ' * Clouds,” ' name than ‘Clouds ”’? } is “ Wrest,” the seat of the WyYNDHAMs. Could there be a much more fascinating And then there Lord Lucas’s Bedfordshire home, now transferred, how suitably, into a hospital for soldiers. And there PUNCH, ‘* HOW DELIGHTED YOU I WAS PLEASED ENOUGH, | Downs rising not too many miles away jin the South. | behind it, so quiet and self-contained is that Midland paradise which, in the | days of placid even life, the editors of | illustrated weeklies always recollected with gratitude when they were short of other pictures—‘ Compton Wyn- yates.” But the new name which I have just discovered, and which fills the inward eye with joy, is a house on a smaller scale than these--a manor- house rather than a mansion, perhaps one of the smallest that can be de- scribed as a “ gentleman’s place,” but assuredly that. Somewhere in Sussex, Western Sussex. It is not near the station, and to reach it you walk or drive along wind- ing roads just now sodden with rain, but smelling of the good wet Sussex leaves and mast and soil, with the | self, in whose reign its foundations w ere | OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 497 BEEN WHEN YOU HEARD YOUR SON HAD WON THE Y.C.!"’ BUT I WASNA SURPRISED. HE STOOD UP TO ME ONCE!”’ MUST HAVE lemon verbena and tobacco plant and Then a turn into a narrow | mignonette. On the roof a few white lane, with the bare trees of a copse on} fantails ; a spaniel near the door; and either side and a scurrying pheasant in|a great business of rooks in the sky. front of you, gate! There is no lodge—the house is | just too small for that, as you can now see for yourself, for there it is, under | the protection of the wood that rises there of books and pictures—everything | that makes a house a home. Beside the house on the right are the that you almost gasp. stables; and on the other side a dark Very old it is, but good for many}shrubbery, and beyond that more years more. The frame is of timber| lawns and gardens and the fish-pond. and plaster, and a Horsham stone roof.| Do you see it? Perhaps you have These stones are a little damp and | already seen it differently; for and behold the white}Through the windows of the lower | rooms you see the greenery at the back | of the house and a ‘suggestion here and | how moss-covered (for our ancestors insisted | could you help forming some mental | on building in a hole, or where would | picture of it when in every carriage on Friday’s fish come from ?), place is as Tudor as QuEEN Bess her- | notice, ‘ Passengers to Lower Blinds” ? To me “ Lower Blinds” is just such dug. Thee himney stacks, all smoking | a manor-house as that. with the thin blue smoke of logs, are of | tiny Tudor bricks, and the chimneys are set not square with the house but cornerways. A long low facade with the central door in a square porch ; the | whole grave but serene. A path of more Horsham stone leads to the door, with thyme and lavender | Stellenbosched ? ‘*GENERAL leaving through war, years’ character.’’—-Morning Paper. nearly 5 | | Auten official report : ‘A memorial service was held on Decem- me 2 by our troops in the sandjak of Novi and the| the L. B. & S.C. R. is posted up the | springing from the interstices undis- | Bazar and Mitrovitza, the population enthusi- | _mayed by the feet of nan, and smooth | astically participating.’ the | Manchester Evening News. lawns on each side, and under . . | . | diamond-paned windows a bed where | There is no reason to doubt the truth would be night stock and! of this statement. in summer

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| Then he develops a nasty suspicious side _ the affair of a certain “horse, draught, | one” | Once upon a time the Nth Division _ which would not die. Being wise in his, _ became aware of the irregular existence | putting the explanation in writing by | dislike | E THE WATCH DOGS. XXXI. My pear CHARLES,—You should drop in one of these evenings at “A” Mess, just to see the odd collection of special- ists who go to make up our company. These are the people who have the Bright Ideas. First there is the Colonel, whose business in life is horses, Sir. He is a soldier of the old school, courtly and kind till it comes to a matter of business with a regimental transport officer. to his nature, no doubt calling to mind of earlier days of the campaign. (let us say) found itself the possessor of a horse which it did not love, but generation the officer in charge very wickedly prefixed another number to that already there before he turned the beast adrift. In due course the Colonel somewhere in France of a horse marked NNth Division (let us say) and behay- ing in a suspicious manner; and, also in due course, the NNth Division got to hear of the same thing and of the Colonel's pained surprise in the matter. The responsible person was invited to explain it and not to be deterred from the fact that it would certainly be used in evidence against him. Now it happened that the NNth Division had not at that time left Eng- land, but were none the less ready on that account to oblige the Colonel. They were prepared to furnish any number of explanations, but for the moment regarded the following as the most attractive :—‘‘ The horse, draught, one, feeling bitterly that the establish- ment of the NNth Division was com- plete without it, had trotted away from ALDERSHOT (possibly in high dudgeon), made its way to FonkesTonr, jumped | off the pier while the M.L.0. was sni uching au hasty but well-deserved meal ELSEWHERE, grounded at or near the B in BovnoGye, been shaken off | the drops, strolled up-country to have. a look at the trenches, taken a foolish | to the latter, galloped back | PUNCH, OR 'The hurried nature and inconvenient THE LONDON CHARIV ARL [DecemBer 15, 1915. intellect to take part in his highly technical conversations, and that is the Lieutenant, in the same business but the other side of it, known as Anti- dotes for Same. They are rarely in complete harmony, but recently they combined to beg, borrow or steal a horse off the Colonel. This put the Colonel, always anxious to encourage youth and energy, in a fix; as he said, you supply one sort of horse for riding purposes and another for experimenting on. They, of course, could be no more explicit with him than I am being with ycu, for, as we all now know so well, “les ennemies oreilles nous écoutent.” Then there's Eliza, a very necessary euphemism (as you'll agree) for his tech- nical description, Liaison Officer. You are not going to be told even what his business is; no one is allowed to know that. We suspect that he is kept in the dark himself. Whatever it is, he carries it about with him on his long journeys in a little bag. I have only managed to see that open once, and then he was helping himself to a piece of chocolate out of it. However, he never fails to bring back with him at night the very latest news from the very highest au- thority. He hints at it, behind closed doors, in the most discreet of whispers ; and sure enough there it is in next morning’s paper, officially denied. Don’t let yourself be deceived by the dignified bearing and intellectual refine- ment of Captain-——. He will discuss with you diplomacy and the fine arts ; he will condescend, in an academic vein, to remark upon the nuances of feminine fashions, but on the whole he will leave you under the impression that the prin- ciple of his existence is noblesse oblige. Nothing of the sort: he’s the Inspector of Army Ashpits. There never was ¢ rubbish tip in the area but he must needs get to the bottom of it. We call him “Sue,” which is short for sewage. Next comes the General Staff Officer. times of his meals induced us for a long time to look upon him as a busy man, but now Lord Sr. Davins has shown jhim up. We therefore assume his time- | table to be:—9 a.m. to 1 P.M, beer and | bridge; 2 p.m. to 5, cocktails and piquet ; | 5.30 to 7.30, whisky and auction; 8.30} | to closing time, wine, women and song. | Last, but not least, comes the Camp Commandant, whose lot it is to do adjutant over us, amongst others. The other day, in per formance of his duty, he posted a notice in the Mess :— NOTICE. Will Officers please state how many Gas Helmets they possess ? H. H. Humser, Capt., Camp Commandant. For some days the only result was as follows :— NOTICE. Will Officers please state how many Gas Helmets they possess ? H. H. Humser, Capt., Camp Commandant. One. H. H. Humser, Capt. Even that failed to encourage the | others, and this was the complete text of the notice when last seen :— NOTICE. Will Officers please state how many Gas Helmets they possess ? H. H. Humser, Capt., Camp Commandant. One. H. H. Homper, Capt. Thank you. H. H. Humser, Capt., Camp Commandant. Last night we had a guest, a most | engaging Colonel of one of the new | units. his middle age in commerce. maturity finds him in his element again. His youth was spent soldiering His full | He said he wasn’t feeling quite him- | self at the moment, having that morn- ing had on the carpet (the Orderly Room carpet) his own bank manager. War is war and platoon commanders , must be treated as such if the rifle- | barrels of their platoons don’t shine bravely through the rain. ‘ Under- stand clearly,” he said, “if this happens again you're for it, and you can do what you like about my confounded overdraft.” “Tt’s a hard life for an old soldier, ” he told us, but the old soldier doesn’t set | about to make it harder. On receiving summary orders from the War Office | to report for duty, his first action had | been to issue equally summary orders | to his private chef to the same effect. | He kept the fat, jovial but thoroughly Testament was sent for, swore him in then and there. again, boarded a train for MARsEILLEs, | Those solitary nights he spends on/ within a few hundred yards of the and when apprehended was doubtless | duty are given to absinthe and the more Hun, the good cook continues daily to | | produce divine novelties from tins of intending to proceed thence to some, PLACE UNKNOWN.” This minute was | vicious forms of patience. Is it not all | very, very sad? ‘To the casual observer | bully beef and plum-and-apple jam. He not made more welcome to the Colonel looking in, a General Staff office looks | takes his revenge for forced marches by the remark upon it of an old likea particularly dull insurance office | by wearing on all occasions a faded enemy through whom it was passed :— “For your guidance, please.” Then we have tain known as Patent Processes. There | disguised as unattractive and not too , ‘ Quite, is my one man in the Mess of sufficient | | which it is, of course, a sink of iniquity, a most diabolical Cap- |the female portion of which is cleverly punishing my men, well-dressed Staff Ser geants. — always working overtime, instead of straw hat ‘with his uniform, laughing | ‘at all threats of imprisonment. “T hate ” said the Colonel. said we. Yours ever, Henry. ‘surprised fellow by him while the | and himself | And so, |

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vas Ri) a as the ext | =] Jas ost CW ug, ull m- m- | rly | er. ars | le- ne er- ns | do led set ng ice ad ars | ly he elf 30, | he of Te es ed ng ite el. | LONDON CHARIVARL OUR SPECIAL PHOTOGRAPHER AT THE FRONT. [This modest gentleman, feeling that the only flaw in his snapshots is the unavoidable omission of his own figure, has asked io have the story of his courage illustrated in black-and-white.) CH-TIME WHEN I ARRIVED, AND I Gor A Goop PICTURE OF THE TRENCH METHOD OF TAKING REFRESHMENT. DIFFICULTY IN REACHING HowEVER, I WAS ORDERED AWAY BY A WELL-KNOWN V.C. ITAVING TAKEN PART IN THE SPIRITED CHARGE OF THE ——THs I WAS THEN ARRESTED. ——TH REGIMENT. I PROCEEDED TO THE FRENCH LINES, WHERE UNIQUE SNAP OF SHELL ACTUALLY LEAVING GUN. a et iif bt - iy ~rant§ ~— > THANKS TO THE COURTESY OF CAPTAIN —— I WAS PERMITTED ORDER TO FIRE WAS PLEASE NOTE TIMELY ARRIVAL OF REPRIEVE. ORDERED BY AN EMINENT COLONEL TO BE SHOT, I WAS ABLE TO SNAP HIM IN THE VERY ACT OF PASSING SENTENCE. MY LAST PICTURE BEING GIVEN «. « «

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490 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. ‘(Decemnes 16, 1916. G. A STAMPA. Fs. =a en ffi | fh, ih | A MATTER OF COURTESY. GALLANT HIGHLAND OFFICER TAKING A LADY VOLUNTEER’S SALUTE. THE AUSTRALIAN. [‘* The bravest thing God ever made.’’—A British Officer’s opinion. THE skies that arched his land were blue, His bush-born winds were warm and swect, And yet from earliest hours he knew: The tides of victory and defeat ; From fierce floods thundering at his birth, From red droughts ravening while he played, He learned to fear no foes on earth— “The bravest thing God ever made!’ The bugles of the Motherland Rang ceaselessly across the sea, To call him and his lean, brown band To shape Imperial destiny ; He went, by youth’s grave purpose willed, The goal unknown, the cost unweighed, The promise of his blood fulfilled— “The bravest thing God ever made!” We know— it is our deathless pride !— The splendour of his first fierce blow ; How, reckless, glorious, undenied, He stormed those steel-lined cliffs we know ! And none who saw him scale the height Behind his reeking bayonet-blade Would rob him of his title-right— “The bravest thing God ever made!” Bravest, where half a world of men Are brave beyond all earth’s rewards, So stoutly none shall charge again | Till the last breaking of the swords ; Wounded or hale, won home from war, Or yonder by the Lone Pine laid, Give him his due for evermore— “The bravest thing God ever made!” W. H. O. In a Good Cause. Mr. Punch begs to remind his gentle readers of the great and not very difficult service they can do to our gallant Soldiers and Sailors, whose worst enemy is boredom, if they will collect all the Magazines and Books which they can spare for the need of the Camps Library (Sevenpenny Editions are in great request), and simply hand them, | Post Office. No postage need be paid. In the Cradle of the Deep. ‘* Admiral Sir John Rushworth Jellicoe, Commander-in-Chief of the British Grand Fleet, celebrated his second birthday yesterday in keeping watch over the enemy’s vessels.’’—Southern Daily Echo. ‘*Mr. Villiers told the audience the circumstances of an exciting ; adventure when he was taken fora German spy, by a French gendarme. unwrapped and unlabelled, over the counter of the nearest | |The same morning three German spies had been shot. So he told | | the gendarme how he was an Englishman and a friend of their Mayor’s, but it was only when he presented the gendarme with a note for 25 centimes that he got his release.’’—Hull Times. We gather that the gendarme was a stamp-collector.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Decemser 15, 1915. % i} eat vnt 3 ley ny mM, est “4 T wn i AN EMPTY VICTORY. hal Imperial Sculptor. “T WANT YOU TO SIT FOR MY COLOSSAL FIGURE OF ‘ VICTORY.” | Germania. “ YES, SIRE. MIGHT I HAVE A LITTLE SOMETHING TO EAT FIRST?”

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PTS we | fools gladly. must be able at rare intervals to | him with his colleague, the Irtsi | further considered on Report. | discreet in measure of information | conveyed. | plicity of inquiries, a considerable December 15, wwe d ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. (EXTRACTED FRoM THE Diary or Tosy, M.P.) House of Commons, Monday, Decem- ber 6th.—As usual, lion’s share of Ques- tions fell to lot of UNbDER-SECRETARY ror War. Also as usual, TENNANT’S replies were excellent alike in substance and manner. The art of answering Questions satis- factorily not easy of full attainment. A Minister, especially one of junior) rank and of age known at the War Oflice as “eligible,” must avoid pert- ness, but should be able occasionally to gratify the almost infantile desire of House to be amused. He must be frank in statement whilst In dealing with multi- portion born of personal vanity or desire for self-advertisement, he must live up, at least in appearance, to the Pauline example of suffering At the same time he administer sharp rap on knuckles to a pest of the Question-hour who momentarily excels himself. TENNANT too gentle by nature, too courteous by habit, to dis- tinguish himself in last field of action. Other requirements neces- sary to success in difficult position he daily exhibits, achievement rendered easier by fact that he has modestly won his way to favour of all sections of House, with possible exception of Herr GINNELL, who is inclined to class SECRETARY. Business Bill New Clauses introduced by CHANCELLOR OF EXCHEQUER. done. -— Finance Tuesday.—Often wondered of late what had become of STANERT | Witson. In days that are no more he . : ps | Was prominent amid group of implac- | ables above Gangway on Opposition | side. Theirs not to reason why. On Treasury Bench was a Ministry schem- | ing for Home Rule and other legis- lative iniquity. Business of group alluded to was to obstruct, if not ab- solutely stop, their progress. Member for Holderness Division active and sedulous in this patriotic mission. When Might triumphed over Right and Home Rule Bill added to Statute Book he slacked off attendance. Since War began—to-day at least two of his old compatriots are seated on Treasury Bench cheek by jowl with ancient enemy—has disappeared from parlia- mentary scene. News comes this morning explaining PU NCH, OR THE LON DON CHARIVARI 493 mystery. eee ‘ready to serve his country in whatsoever capacity Witson volunteered for service as King’s Messenger. As he was coming home, due in good time for Christmas festivities at Tranby Croft, Austrian submarine suddenly popped up. Com- mander boarded Greek vessel that car-| ried STanuey, his fortunes and his de-! Sr spatches, and bore them off in custody. | tion. His Masesry’s Ministers contributed to the public exchequer a considerable proportion of money drawn from it in the way of official salaries. Enlisted the Kina in the good work, His Masesty contributing a sum from the Civil List. Members keenly interested in Cuter CRETARY’S public utterance on ques- They recognise that, like Captain House hears with regret of the mis- | Bunsby’ $ sage re emarks, “The bearings adventure. of, his occasionally boisterous manner STANLEY a general favourite. In spite of, perhaps because | of this obserwation lays in the ap »pli- cation on it.” If Ministers relinquish Some; part of salaries hardly earned the consolation found in circumstance that! crusade of the numerically small, per- he is the prize of an Austrian crew sonally influential, section of the Com- \ a MN if Mt ; ye A RIRRELLIANT IDEA. rather than of a German. His treat- ment during coming festive season may accordingly be more Christmassy. Business done.—Another uneventful sitting dealing with Finance Bill on Report stage. Half-an-hour after mid- night permitted to pass it. Wednesday.—Much talk in Lobby about Brrrein’s suggestion that by way of setting example, process more potent than giving advice, Ministers should accept reduction of salaries during continuance of War. There is closely relevant precedent for self-denying ordinance. More than a hundred years ago, when Pirr with his back to the wall was fighting NAPoLeEoN, it was necessary to impose taxation relatively higher than that now cheerfully borne. It occurred to Pirr that it would be a good thing if mons who desire to see the Mother of Parliaments relieved from in- creasingly undignified position will receive irresistible impetus. Mem- hers can’t go on taking full pay- ment of £400 a year voted to themselves in time of peace whilst they insist on their constituents practising self-denial. To-morrow the Reichstag meets. IMPERIAL CHANCELLOR expected to indicate terms on which the War Lorp may be prepared graciously to grant peace to prostrate Allies, In “speech at Guildhall in October which the By un- indicated terms upon IXAISER may have peace. indicated the latest attitude of the Allies on subject. “Tf,” he said, “proposals of a serious character peace are put forward, directly or through a Power, by the Enemy either neutral the Allied Governments.” This intimation is at the service of the ImprertaAn CHANCELLOR for any use he cares to make of it when giving final touch to his speech. Business done. mittee. Thursday.— PREMIER announces that arrangements have been concluded with Law Officers of Crown for reducing their rate of remuneration during the War. “That,” said Herr GINNELL, “is what T call opening the door to the thin edge of the wedge.” “as the right hon. gentleman any Rent Bill in Com- last year, Prime MrvistTer plainly | designed coincidence he to-night | for a general | Govern- | ments they will be discussed by | idea when the Parliamentary Session | will come to a close?” asked Mr. Loucu. “No, Sir, not the slightest,” cheerily answered the PREMIER. Business done.— Budget Bill amid mutual congratulations passed Third Reading. Another tight job completed by the passing of Wanrer Loxa’s Rent Bill through Committee.

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OY ae NY 0 Uy YS Wiig) 4 Uy Ay) Aeeeer & x ( —_— GLa Pi" IF WE HAD B ScENES FROM A REVISED History OF GREAT BRITAIN. EEN PRUSSIANS. A SEQUEL TO THE SIGNING OF MAGNA CHARTA. THE LONDON CHARIVARL. [December 15, 1916, Sa \\ fie \ wet (ti i ‘An’ died o’ a wapse’s sting, so the Ba SALE PRICE. .. |dosay. Stung an’ lead an’ all in ina | Scene—* The Plough and Horses.” time ‘an ’twould take to lift a row o' | “ OVER-REACHED ‘erself a bit—well, | potatoes.” well.” “ Losin’ ’er ‘usband, same as she did, “’Oo be you ‘ludin’ to, Luther Cherri- | gi’e ‘er a sort o’ ‘’scuse for tyin’ that man? Friend of yourn?” boy o’ ’ers to ‘er apron-strings.”’ “Gi'e ’er a name an’ done wi’ it— > =“ Apron-strings not strong ‘nough to that’s what I says.” old ’is father’s son, though, when it’s “’Kr name’s well know ’d to all—- | war a-callin’ ‘im.” Annie Arbour, that’s ’er name.” | “They do say as ‘is mother’s tongue “ But no partic’lar friend o’ anyone | be a thing to flee from, too. “Tain’t as ere, fur as 1 knows.” if ’e ’ad a pack o’ brothers an’ sisters “Went to school wi’ ‘er, I did.| to share it wi’ ’im, neither.” Carrotty curls, she ‘ad—bit of a know- | * Shouldn’t ’a said ’e were old ‘nough all then.” | for full-blown soldier. But time do fly, “ Bit of a know-all still, an’ nosey | an’ no mistake.” wi’ it, so the womenfolk seem to say.” | “Nor ’e wasn’t old ‘nough for part ’e “Still I be fair sorry for the woman! claimed—that’s the way ‘twas. But now.” 'a fine up-standin’ lad, an’ when’ ’e gi’e “Tell us ’bout it, then.” in ‘is age as eighteen, if anythin’ were « Ain’t you ’eard?” thought nothin’ weren’t asked. Don’t “ Don’t ear nothin’ of ’er ‘cept once do to ask too much in war-time.” in a way. She an’ my missus don’t see ‘xactly eye to eye—that’s ‘ow ‘ear no lies.” ‘tis. Case o’ bein’ uncommon clever—, “There you be gettin’ on wrong tack that’s what ‘twas. You all know ‘er again, George, same as usual. Lie —nobody couldn’t stop ’im no longer, | question as might have proved it one nor they couldn't.” | was left out—that’s ail.” “Spit o’ 'is father, that boy—strong,, ‘“ You chaps don’t need to arguefy ‘ardworkin’ chap as ever walked, ’is|’bout that. Tell us your yarn, Luther, father were.” | fore it be time to quit.” “Ask no questionses an’ you don’t | boy ‘listed matter o’ three months back came first in this ‘ere case, an’ the | | Tt be ’ceedin’ simple, what I got to tell. ’Ere be fine up-standin’ son, all joggety like to be off, an’ ‘ere be ‘is mother clingin’ ’old o’ ’im still, like grim death. Yet off ’e goes an’ calls ‘isself eighteen, ’e does, an’ says as ‘ow ’e’d been ‘lowin’ ‘is mother fifteen bob a week, all told. Consequence is ’e gets a man’s pay an’ is mother she gets ‘er tidy bit as well. An’ to make up for it Kine an’ country they gets the strongest young chap in these ‘ere parts—same as ‘is father’ fore ‘im, ‘oo were a cert’n match for any man, but not for wapses.”’ ' “Annie ‘Arbour weren't satisfied, ‘though, if I guesses right?” | “You does guess right—an easy guess. Annie “Arbour, she couldn't rest no’ow wi’ ’er son recruitin’ an’ not -a soul to nag at from daybreak to sun- down an’ round again. So she tried ‘this way an’ she tried that for to get ‘old o’ ‘im again, an’ not a morsel o’ chance did she see. Then all of a sudden it come to ’ev, an’ she thought she ’d struck it fine.” “’Ow was that, Luther ?”’ “She devised it all very careful an’ | business-like, I be bound to say. Got is birth certificate down from London, she did, thinkin’ to floor th’ authorities |wi’ that most proper. Sixteen, birth

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say.” DeceMBeR 15, 1915. PUNCH, OR “THE LONDON. CHARIVARL 495 Recruit ome has been kept waiting for medical examination). N.C.O. ‘AND WHAT ABOUT you, MY LAD? certificate on" im at a bona of it in| | hlack-an’-white, as solemn as Judgment | Day. Authorities couldn’t deny it—an’ | didn’t try.” “ What did th’ authorities do, then ?”’ “Cut down ’is mother’s ‘lowance, ‘im bein’ under age an’ not likely to ‘ave ever earnt all that ’ere to give ‘er. Now she do ’ave to go on workin’ for ’er livin’, same as rest of us.”’ “ Authorities didn’t gi’e ’er back son, though, did they ?”’ “ Knowed a trick worth two o’ that, seemin’ly. Th’ authorities weren't born yesterday. Kep’ ’er son, they did, an’ didn’ t as much as thank ’er for lettin’ ‘em ‘ave ’im at sale price, as you might | “Canon Scott Holland will lecture at St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields, Charing Cross, on Wednesday, November 31, at 5 p.m. Subject: ‘ The Nineteenth Century.’ "—The Challenge. Memo. for the lecturer: “Take care of | the months and the centuries will look after themselves.” | ‘*Mr. Rennie, in drifting away from trade | unions, thought some illuminating saat about women.’’—Norwood Review. But seems, wattage wisely, to have| kept them to himself. | He never touches Canned beans are what he loves to eat ; He dare not drink his grape-juice neat; ‘You ROOSEVELT ON WILSON. (Lines from an unwritien poem). any meat ; His life-blood has no more of heat Than you can find in driving sleet. He thinks in his profound conceit That he is of the world’s élite; He is disgustingly discreet ; His policy, half bluff, half bleat, Invariably spells Retreat. I’ve searched the lexicon of SKEAT In vain for epithets to treat, In any manner fit and meet, This acid prig, inane, effete, Who sits in mine and Lixcoun’s seat. So, when I see him on the street, The pedant absolute, complete, Fish-like and smug from head to feet, I long to batter, bash, and beat This blamed Byzantine Logothete! Journalistic Candour. “New Days reflects the new spirit of the dull, lifeless organ of it is always times.. Never a heavy, the pser sudo-intellectual variety, ‘vile.’ ’’—Adrt, in ** The Methodist Times.”’ *VE KEPT ME WAITING ABOUT HERE FOR OVER FOUR HOURS,”’ ? Yovu’vE KEPT US HANGING ABOUT HERE FOR FIFTEEN MONTHS !”’ ‘Ts it not time that the sight of the | Mosensteins and the Siegenbergs to become 'Morleys and Curzons was restricted? We should like to suggest that no naturalised alien should be allowed to assume a new name | until his family had borne it for three genera- tions. But we have doubts whether this plan is practical,’’—Evening Paper. | We have great pleasure in sharing these | doubts. | ** No gift of divination was needed to foresee ! this move [the invasion of Serbia}. In fact | it was foreseen months ago, but all warning | of it was suppressed by the C epsor. And thus | the Foreign Office was surprised. Morning Paper | The Censor ought to have remembered that Sir Epwarp Grey relies on the Press for all his information. i “Tf you want a first-class Bloater you can ‘get one from —— & Son. Send postal order | for 1s. 6d.. We will send package carriage | paid.’’—Wiltshire Times. Who says that there are no bargains to be picked “Pp in war-time ? * Judging ne ‘ne siuiiind list, the attendance at this concert will be even larger than at the last, when many were. unable to gain admittance.’’—Montreal Daily Star. Let ’s hope they ’ve enlarged the hall in : the meantime.

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PUNCH, OR THs LONDON CHARIVARE. {[DecemBer 15, 1915. AT THE BACK OF THE FRONT. Azout 10.30 o’clock on the night of the —th er, 19—, I was shivering in my tent and trying to extract a pair of frozen feet from a pair of freezing gun-boots with the help of a tent pole when an orderly dashed in with a message marked “ Urgent or ordinary ” for my immediate use. It appeared therefrom that no less «® person than was going to in- spect us to-morrow. I read on with comparative non- chalance (chalance was out of the question at that temperature) until [| came to a bit about Company Com- manders. (I was, in a manner of speaking, a Company Commander at that date. | sixpence a day for it, the responsibility, you haps it was to keep a horse with; anyhow, ‘Company Commanders,” read the message, “ will be expected to know everything.”) More words may on account of: know—or pet: have followed tion; but as a matter of fact I sud- denly realised just at this point that I was ill—horribly ill; had been for weeks. With a feeble gesture and a few curt decisive orders I indicated to the orderly that I wished him to hand the message on to the Sergeant-Major. Then I fell back and would have swooned but for—— I can’t really think why I didn’t swoon. Perhaps | because there was no one looking. There are various ways of squaring doctors. It happened by chance that I had a great number of socks on hand. The strength of a man is his weakest | kink. Our doctor’s kink is socks. You can’t give him enough. He has an idea, apparently not shared by official sources of issue, that socks save the men from frostbite. Anyhow, next day he provided me with a motor-car | and a disease—I learned its name by heart—and left another officer with the company to swank before the, inspector. I believe in giving some of the younger men a chance. They brought me gradually here. We arrived at dead of night and took the place by complete surprise. Hvent- ually we were lined up and asked to account for ourselves. I assured them that I was seventy-seven years old, had thirty-two years’ service, had been in the country nineteen years and was, a Bush Baptist. The R.A.M.C. Corporal seemed dubi- ous, but allowed me into B Ward. There a sister woke up and inquired what was the matter with me. J told her. | qualifying even this moderate expecta- | |me again. I repeated my lesson twice, and even then I was sure she didn’t believe me. “Where have you got it?” she Face “ Here,” I said. “I didn’t like trust- ‘ing it to my valise.” | She made a disappointed noise. | “ Haven’t you a card?” she began again. as m awfully sorry,” I said, “ but LS ve had none printed since war broke | jout. You see——” “T mean a card saying what's the | matter with you—from “the clearing | | station?” | “No,” I said. “No; you see, they ,couldn’t have got it all in on a card, I was coming myself so soon.’ She sent me to bed. Next day the doctor came round. 1} told him nearly the whole truth. “Fact is,” I said, “the division's | ‘resting,’ and I’m most awfully fed up, and our doc. thought———” “T see,” he said. ‘“ How long have | you been out?” I told him. He was a very sensible sort of doctor. HECKLEBURY HALL. A Hiau-ciass ConneGcr ror Poniricat ASPIRANTS. Principal. Sir ArrHurR Markuam, Bart., Assisted by Professor Sir Henry Dauzien. Professor JoyNson-Hicks. Professor Sir WiLL1amM Bytes. Professor PRINGLE. Professor Ronatp McNEILU. Professor HoGGE. Professor ARTHUR Lyncu. Professor GINNELL. Tue curriculum of the College is specially designed to prepare pupils for /a Parliamentary career. Especial attention is given to shy, | vetining and silent boys, with a view to | themselves on all occasions in a spirit of fearless independence and aggressive importunity. The dominant note of the College is the Note of Interrogation. Besides attending lectures by the greatest experts in the Inquisitorial Art, pupils assemble twice a day, at | 12 noon and 5 r.m., to take part in a} contest which faithfully reproduces the | ‘conditions of Question Time in the | | |House of Commons, the professors | | acting as Ministers and the boys as| | Members. Prizes are awarded every term to the pupils who have asked the most em- She seemed incredulous and asked | encouraging them to speak and assert | barrassing, the most irrelevant and the | most truculent questions. Lessons in self-defence form an in- tegral part of the curriculum. Classes (Professor ArtHur Lyncn), jujitsu (Professor Sir Wint1am Bytes), Greco- Roman wrestling (Professor Joynson- Hicks), and pig-sticking (Professor Hogar). | N.B.— Ill - tempered, violent and /on a new system of intensive culture, so that their idiosynerasies may be | turned to the best est possibile account. | Testimonials received by the Principal: | I am glad to say that he has already largely conquered his hereditary bash. jfulness. Only yesterday he asked his ‘aunt at luncheon, in the presence of the Vicar, how long she had dyed her hair. Gr atefully 3 yours, Paun Pryor. Dear Sir,—In sending you cheque | for next term I wish to express my in- of instruction as illustrated by the pro- 'gress of my son Jasper. This morning he asked me whether I intended to give him a war-bonus in the shape of an extra shilling a week pocket-money, | and when I replied that 1 must consult my bankers before answering the ques- tion, he threw his plate, containing poached egg and bacon, at me with extraordinary accuracy of aim. I attri- bute this result to the excellent training he has received from your Professor of Ballistics ; and beg to sign myself, Yours truly, Cuickerina Peck Dear Sir,—Before he went to Heckle- bury Hall my son was the most back- ward boy I ever knew. We never know what he will say or do next. He has revclutionised our her room in the holidays. liberty to make any use you like of this letter. Yours faithfully, Happen Doone. had twenty I would send them all to /your school to be turned into Heckle- bury Finns. It is the finest product of our times and the only school where the young idea is instructed on the sound principle of being always “agin the Government.” Heaven pros- per your noble efforts to elevate the practice of Ministerial tail-twisting |to the dignity of a high Art, I had almost said a Religion! Why should the Americans have the monopoly of it? | Your admirer, DAmprer PEEVEY. | | | | are held daily in boxing and ballistics | (Professor Roxatp McNEIz1), fencing | _quarrelsome boys are judiciously treated | Dear Sir,—Although my son has | I believe I got an extra and it wasn’t worth writing a le ‘tter, 48 | only been for one term at your College debtedness to your admirable method | He is now | the most forward lad I have ever met. home life, and my wife seldom leaves | You are at | Dear Sir,—I have no sons, but if I

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ld. d the | n in- ASSES istics icing jitsu | reco- | ‘SON- | essor | and rated ture, y be c. pal: has llege eady yash- | his f the hair. R. aque | y in- thod pro- ning 1 to ve of ney, sult ues- ling | with | ttri- ning yy of mE 4 skle- | ack- now met. | , or our | ives B at | e of E. = 7 l to | kle- luct 1001 | lon ‘ays | ros- the ting had yuld fit? Y.

December 15, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

= =. ‘ —S ~~ Wj, Wij.

Captured German Officer (to English Officer in charge of German prisoners). ‘* YOU FIGHT FOR MONEY; WE FIGHT FOR HONOUR.”’ English Officer. ‘‘ AH, WELL! N&XITHER OF US SEEMS TO GET WHAT WE WANT, DO WE?”’ THE UNIVERSAL PRETEXT. “In future,” said the restaurant pro- prietor, “we will have only Colonial and American meat. That will save something.” “ But,” said the manager, “the differ- ence between English and foreign is to us, Who buy so much, very slight, and | our customers won't like it.” “They won’t know,” said the pro- prietor. “They'll suspect,” said the manager. “ What am I to say if they send for me and ask me point-blank ?”’ “Say?” said the proprietor. “Say that it’s English but that the chef has cooked it badly. Say that we can’t count on the kitchen any more owing to the War.” “ Understand,” said the tailor to his foreman, “1 won’t pay any more for labour, not another farthing.” “ But it looks as if you will have to,” replied the foreman. ‘There is a scarcity of girls.” “No, I’ve been bled enough,” said the tailor. “If they don’t like it they can leave it. We can always get others at the price.” | ‘JT doubt it,” said the foreman; ‘and the work will be badly done.” “Never mind,” said the tailor.! “Everyone makes allowances now. Say it’s owing to the War.” against it now, what with extra duties and new restrictions. There’s nothing for it but more water.” “T doubt if it will stand any more, Sir,” said the manager. “It’s about | as thin as we can make it now.” “Well, you must try something,” said the brewer, ‘and, after all, the houses are tied and we can give them what we like. Do your best.” “JT will, Sir; but I think it’s a mis- take.”’ “ Pooh! who’s to object? And we can always lay the blame on the War.” “Tt’s absurd,” said the jam manu- facturer, ‘to use so much fruit. Now- adays all that’s wanted is the sweet- ness and the suggestion. Increase the alloy by another fifteen per cent. at least—glucose, swedes, whatever it is.” “Won't that be rather dangerous ?”’ the manager inquired. ‘“ We'll take the risk,” said the manufacturer ; “‘ but I don’t feel nervous. We can always say it’s the War. “What are you making our best, Turkish cigarettes of now?” the tobacco magnate inquired.

“ The same tobacco as usual,” replied the manager. “ Well, don’t do it any more,” said the magnate. ‘“ Mix in at least a third of the No. 3.” “ At the same price?” the manager asked. : “Of course. thing out of it.’”’ “We had raised the price already,” said the manager. “ Well, I wish it,” said the magnate. “They ‘ll probably notice something and kick,” said the manager. “Oh no, they won't. They're pre- pared for things like that. They'll think it’s the War.” And after all, why not? If we have got to have a war, let’s make some use of it.

‘¢ Trousers, fit 38-in. chest, 5/-’’ The Bazaar. The “ lower chest,” presumably. ‘‘The sock industry is new to the Isle of Man, and it took some little time to get the work on its feet.’’—The Methodist Recorder. We must get some- Possibly the three legs of Manxland accentuated the difficulty.

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_ good—gruff-wuff-gruff.”

498 PUNCH, OR. THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. [December 15, 1915.

| ‘And women,” she said, « “are expected to go through COUGHS AND COLDS. life without nerves.” ‘“Francesea,” I said, “I’m afraid my cough is no better ; | ie Yes,” I said, “that’s only fair. Women have got to wuff-wuff-gruff-ruff-wuff.” | keep the home together, and they couldn’t do it properly “It’s your own fault,” she said. “If you would only if they indulged in nerves. consent to take your cough-mixture regularly you'd have; “ How any ything so irritable as a man could ever manage got rid of it long ago.” ‘to be a breadwinner I can’t make out,” said Francesca. “Francesea, how can you bring yourself to say such | “We will not pursue,” I said, “these investigations into things? I certainly took a good strong working dose our respective nerve centres. Is anybody else in the house yester day—or was it the day before? Anyhow, I’m sure I! going to have a cough?” took something yesterday, and it hasn’t done me a bit of | “ Well, all the children have got colds, but you’ve been 'so wrapped up in your delectables that you haven't “Tf,” she said, “ you want a cough to yield to treatment , noticed it.” you must first of all treat it.” “T’ve noticed that nearly all my handkerchiefs have “But that’s just what I have done,” I said. “I’ve, disappeared.” | given it all the nice things I could think of. It has had| ‘“ Poor dears,” she said. “Their own handkerchiefs are

dozens of delectable jujubes, and scores of pastilles, and so small and so few.’ jars of black-currant jam in hot water; and yesterday I| “Yes,” I said, “but why do they do them up in balls gave it breakfast in bed so as to humour it, and—w uff- and leave them on all the armchairs 7 8

gruff-wuff—this is all the >" are ~—a “Tt’s a mute appeal,” return I get for my kind- | (f she said, “to a_ hard- ness.” It) | gem a, hearted father. And James has got a bad cold.” | “Hehas,”’ Isaid; “I’ve | heard him sneezing a good ‘deal more than is com- |patible with his age and every bit as bad as yours, Yi. his position as seneschal. only I don’t complain Ls by D). — WAas’/\ Somehow a sneeze and a about it to everybody. I| fy ” POET SAYS. | “To me?’ | tle cough with a digging | Loomen at HIS 1is08." ‘AH, YOUR FRIEND THE POET CAN’T HAVE “ Yes,” I said, “to you. movement which is splen- —e . You began it. Every day, didly effective—gruft-gruff- ruff-wulf, Now your cough—| when it’s “about time for the evening paper to be brought I'll admit for the sake of argument that you've got one in, you start edging nearer and nearer to the library door so —isn’t a real cough at all. It’s just a harsh, metallic, | as to get first hold on the news x choky bark.” “There never is any.” “ My cough,” she said with dignity, “is as nature made| ‘No, but you think there’s going to be, and you sit it. And, at any rate, I’m using the cough mixture.” She posted up against the draught between the door and the poured herself out a dose and drank it down. window, trying to look quite purposeless, until the door “ Francesca,” I said, “ you have great courage. Give me opens and then away you sail in a tornado of sneezes with the bottle and let me, too, attack the enemy with this the paper in your grip.”

nauseous stuff. There, I’ve drunk it—wuff-wuff-gruffer-| ‘“ You’re a wonderful observer,” she said. ‘ You attribute ruffer-wuffer. Bah! it only makes it worse.” it all to evening papers. Now I attribute it all to tobacco. “It’s made mine much better. I couldn’t cough now if|If you didn’t smoke so much you wouldn’t be so liable to I wanted to.” colds, and if you didn’t catch a cold nobody else would—so | “For heaven’s sake,” I said, “leave it at that. Let it|there!” go. Don’t ask it to come back.” ‘“‘T never heard such nonsense in my life,” I said. “Gruff- “T should be ashamed,” she said, “ to show such terror| wuff-ruff-gruffer-ruffer—if 1 were laid up with measles my of a poor little cough. Compared with your great St. Bernard | belief is you ’d put it down to cigarettes.”

of a cough mine’s only a sort of Yorkshire terrier.” “ And I shouldn’t be far wrong,” said Francesea. ‘ Hock- “It’s managed to get on my nerves all the samme.” hack-hank-hack—you'd better have another go of mixture “ But your nerves,” she said, “ are such easy ones to get | soon.” R. ©. L: on to.” | “Yes,” I said, “a child could get on to them, or a curate| ‘‘Rome.—The German Peace Assassin thanks the Pope for his or a monthly nurse—anything from a boy practising a| Work in favour of peace.”"—Provincial Paper.

bugle down to a motor-ear.” Another sy nony m for the Kaiser, we suppose.

the children will all be |

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een n't ave nis | | editor—his daily difficulties, his occasional triumphs, his | frequent anxieties. With all these things Sir Epwarp has Decemprr 15, 1915.) PUNCII, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI 499 ANN SAN \\ AN x SSN —= Daughter. ** \Wuo'’s THAT GENTLEMAN, DAD, WALKING ALL ALONE?”’ Dad. ‘‘ THAT's THE MAN WHO MISSED FIVE WOODCOCKS ONE AFTER ANOTHER—THE ONLY ONES WE'VE SEEN THIS SEASON.”’ | tries ultimately rests. No personal fads or party preju- OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. dices obscured his judgment, and, though he often made (By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.) mistakes and had to practise ‘‘ the gentle art of curvature,” Messrs. Constasie & Co. have been fortunate in starting | The Times ——— ave long out of sympathy with the national feeling. Fortunate in his proprietors—who re- their new series of Makers of the Nineteenth Century with | “ies ; “ ; garded the dignity of their paper as more important than Delane of “The Times”’; they have been still more fortunate 7 fits bl ke tl gg . in finding such an exceptionally accomplished biographer | #8 Profts—he was able to make the gaining of influence rather than of money his objective; and, as the almost as Sir Epwarp Cook. It takes an editor to appreciate an} .°""" , : : : | inevitable result, he gained both. Every journalist should read his Life—the old for remembrance, the young for inspiration ; but anyone who is interested in the social and political events of the Victorian era will find it as good reading as any novel, and a great deal better than most. had long and varied acquaintance; and in this admirably- written book he gives us with many a shrewd comment and illuminating sidelight the benefit of his own experience. | Detaneg, who was almost as particular about the “ grave- yard” of The Times as he was about the leading articles,| Was there ever a volume of recollections with so little would have entirely approved his biographer; and the/|trace of egotism, even to the point of the concealment biographer, for his part, could desire no more inspiring|of essentials, as Mr. Ricnarp Wuiterne’s My Harvest subject. Jonn THapeus DeLANe was only twenty-three | (HoppER AND StoucHTon)? But I suppose his idea was when Joun WALTER the Second requested him to succeed | to lay stress on the stored, not the sown, grain; on impres- the great Tuomas Barnes, who had earned for the paper sions and verdicts rather than happenings, which are only the title of “The Thunderer.” He had had but a year's | touched upon so far as they are necessary to elucidate. The experience of journalism, yet he accepted the responsibility | fastidious phrasing (sometimes perhaps a little obscure in with the same level-headed confidence that he displayed | intention) marks the journalist of a long departed school, throughout the thirty-six years of his editorship. Before | who, though he makes no particular grievance of it, views he was thirty his reputation was secure. He had the| with concern the stress and hurry of our day of giant cir- confidence of the proprietor and of the innumerable states- | culations and the queer policies that contrive and sustain men and other big-wigs with whom he was in daily|them. It is of interest to know that the author of No. 5, communication; what was perhaps even more difficult, he| John Street entered journalism out of craftsmanship—he had his team of leader-writers (some of whom, like Henry | had been apprenticed to Bensamin Wyon, “chief engraver of REEVE, were inclined to kick over the traces) well in hand. | Her Majesty’s| QUEENVicToRIA’s] seals” —vidsome sketches His aim was to inform, interpret, and direct that great) in 7'he Star, under Justin McCarrny, of the alleged impres- central body of British opinion on which the fate of Minis-! sions of a Coster in Belgravia, meant as a counterblast to |

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who shall be nameless: | with the verdict: There goes | & supposed corpse walks into his London flat and demands [DecemBer 15, 1915, PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. JAMES GREENWOOD’s “ Amateur Casual” in The Pall Mall.\rectories, his squires and parsons and all their pleasant As Special Correspondent in the Paris of 1867; Geneva of | little world, gives us an account of a country in which the Alabama Convention; Madrid of the Carlist rebellion ;, wealth is a wickedness and often a punishment, and where Paris again, with the friendship of Huco and Gamperra;! ungenteel poverty rules the roast and oppresses the opulent. 500 America; Berlin in the eighties; Petersburg (that was) with Turguenterr—he has not lived a dull life or given a | dull, though, may be, a quiet, reflection of it. The general | reticence sharpens our wits to understand the faint allusions and induces a very pleasant glowing sense of intelligence. when we succeed, to counteract the chill of disappointment when we fail. One must quote the verdict of “a brilliant Irishwoman” on a certain fantastic countryman of hers “You make a great fuss about him. We have a man like that at the cross-roads of every village snacking every passer-by for the benefit of the) crowd,” And neither this nor | the author’s own vehemence on the same too much dis- cussed subject is the product of war passions. It is the only touch of spleen in a gracious | book, which you may close | an honest Radical. I suppose that detective or spy stories may be regarded as a mild form of intoxicant, and in this case I can promise that you will find The Thirty- Nine Steps (Buackwoop) an agreeably exhilarating blend. Indeed, I am not sure that its consumption should not be confined to certain restricted hours, say 5 to 6 P.M., or from 10.30 onwards. To begin sipping at it in the morning would certainly be fatal to the day’s work. In his pleas- ' , ant little Preface, Mr. Jonn 1S .- pei, “GY Bucuan refers to it as belong- Wy ing to that type of romance “where the incidents defy. the probabilities and march , just inside the borders of the possible.” There could be no better definition of the| wild and whirling adventures |. vs that engulph Mr. Richard Hannay, from the moment when | AFTER THE | protection till the last breathless minutes when—but I} certainly shall not tell you about them yet. At times one | may feel in retrospect that the border-line laid down by | Mr. BucHan has been overstepped ; but this is in retrospect only and belongs to the next-morning mood. At the, moment the thrill of Hannay’s evasions and escapes and | disguises holds one too fascinated to worry over the question whether they could ever have happened. If! I have a criticism, it is that the dressing-up motive is a) trifle overworked. But if you should be tempted into some impatience over this let me beg of you to hold on for the sake of the last chapter, which provides a quite original and breath-taking climax. For this alone The Thirty-Nine Steps would be well worth your climbing, despite the undeniable steepness of some of them. In Upsidonia (Staxtey Pavt) Mr. ArcnipaLp MARSHALL, abandoning for a time his beloved country-houses and Vi Ue Zz charmingly told. Mr. John Howard, who penetrated into this country, was startled and disconcerted by the furious indignation with which a proffered tip of sixpence was repelled by an inhabitant who had all the appearance of a tramp. He was doomed to be still further disconcerted, for when a | kind-hearted native attempted to relieve him, for his own | good, of his rich watch and chain he naturally pursued the thief, but was himself taken into custody. In Upsidonia a Mr. Hobson “ had come his biggest cropper over a worked- out silver mine, in which antimony or some such metal was discovered the moment the shares seemed to be worth | nothing, with the consequence unheard-of altitudes.” When ‘submitted to wealth with a ‘noble resignation. She had taken a large house and filled herself and had clothed her children in the richest attire, thus taking her punishment like a true woman. Those | who desire further and better ‘particulars of this surprising country and of the manners and customs of those who live in it are referred to the book, ‘where the whole scheme is of semi-solemnity which is suited to so Erewhonian a subject. It is a happy essay topsyturvydom. It may even prove to have a truly practical lutility now that we are all ’ incomes. they wouldn’t have let you EXPLOSION. invest in a War Loan. ‘* Wor ARE YER WORRYIN’ ABAHT, Bin ?”’ j ‘*CAWN’T REACH MY PIPE.’ A Little House in War-Time ade (ConsTABLE) ought to be given a roving commission ; mean that it should be found here, there and everywhere, so that one may have a dip into it and pass on. To read it through at a sitting—as I did—is to come to mild logger- heads not so much with the book itself as with AGNEs and EaErton Castre’s idea of it. “ We trust,” they say in a foreword, “our pages may add a little mirth more to the gallant spirit abroad.” Well, I discovered very little to make me laugh, but I did find something to refresh and gladden me. In short, when the EGerton CasTLes are out to be funny they seem to me to leave the bull’s-eye unseathed, but when they are telling us of courage in the face of danger, of anxieties nobly borne, or of the beauties and joy of their garden, they hit the centre of the target every time. Without conscious effort they create a bond of sympathy with their readers which is very real and endur- ing. This is what is called an intimate book, but eyes that are merely curious will get little satisfaction from its pages, its appeal being solely to lovers of a simple chronicle in grotesque but suggestive | bidden to give up half our | But in Upsidonia | ‘that they jumped up again to | this crash came his wife had | it with expensive furniture, | | had bought silks and laces for worked out with the greatest | ingenuity and just that amount | Tr

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5 sant hich here lent. Was | with | an He an a own the ia a ked- was orth ence , n to | ‘hen had | ha had illed ure, | ; for her tire, nent hose stter sing | ners | live | ook, | » is | test . yunt | 1 1S n a Say tive ven | ‘ical all our onia you ime ae | ere, ‘ead ger- and na the ittle and are eye the | ties | rget 1 of lur- hat its icle | a | DECEMBER 22, 1915. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 501 | of the House of Lords certain names | . CHARIVARIA. of peers had against them a cross, a SynruHetic rubber has once more been discovered, according to a notice issued by the Frankfort University. This time | itis attributed to “co-operation between the local professors.” It is supposed that they evolved it out of their inner consciences, which are notoriously clastic. * % Having read a moving description of ‘Meatless and Fatless Days” in Ger- many, a tender-hearted Briton writes: “Christian charity may forbid us wish- ing them, even in war-time, Heatless | and Hatless days, but no exception can , our readers shouldimagine | that one of our own eminent draughts- men is pointed at we hasten to say|Brownine in be taken to our providing them with Fruitless and Bcootless ones.” War is a wonderful ~~ thing. During the second battle of Ypres the follow- ing indent was received by the Stationery Office at the Front:—‘ Kindly let bearer have 4,000 yards of tape, red, for use with res- pirators.” And so for once this material, instead of stifling military ardour,, ! actually enabled it to Fo breathe. x & | 7h We learn from The Woman's Magazine that the work of a famous black-and-white artist is in such constant demand star, or a tick, but no one seemed to know whether these marks indicated that they were present or absent. Lord Arktnson said he had found the word “hic” against one name, but with commendable discretion did not speculate as to what that may have implied. a ad | Italy has found another use for old newspapers. Rolled together as tightly | as possible, they are steeped in paraffin | and cut into segments, one of which is sufficient to heat a soldier’s rations. If the British War Office should adopt the idea it may be possible by a judi- cious selection from our Press to dis- pense with the paraffin. that he can only escape a - _ j . breakdown by rushing off an mea Gl SN cattle-ranch in America. Lest to his Western IN DARKEST LONDON. Nervous Lady. ‘‘To THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STREET, PLEASE.”’ A correspondent reminds us that | his ‘“ Grammarian’s | that none of them will admit to being| Funeral” had a prescient admiration a cow-puncher. An officer recently received the fol- lowing postcard from his little daughter, | who has just gone to a boarding-school | for the first time :—‘‘ My pear Dappy,— Please answer by return. Is a lieu- tenant’s daughter higher than a cap- 9? tain’s niece ? | | | | | * been called up for service in Austria | are allowed to wear a yellow armlet to distinguish them from soldiers of in- ferior social status. Ifthe use of French | expressions were still permissible out | ‘ss the British Press of to-day :— ‘* That ’s the appropriate country, there man’s | thought Rarer, intenser, | Upgathered for an outbreak, as it ought, Chafes at the censor !”’ * In a laudatory speech about Ger- | many’s allies Herr NAuMANN referred | . |to Bulgaria as a country that is washed | Bradford. Civil servants, professional men and|by the Black and Agean Seas, and | brought home by a soldier, who thoughtlessly others of similar position who have| will soon reach the Adriatic as well. |4 Like Lady Macbeth Bulgaria wants a| lot of washing, and for the same | reason. so al , , It is a mistake to suppose that there they would be known as the| America is not suffering financially | “ gaunesse dorée.” ‘through the War. We learn that! * | President Witson has been put to the In a peerage case the other day it was pointed out that in the Journals | season, instead of one, in order to avoid | month. |expense of two diplomatic dinners this | A ' entertaining the representatives of the | rival belligerent Powers at the same | time. et * A serious attempt is to be made to clear the trenches from rats; and it is found that four trained rat-killers can clear twenty miles in thirty days. As there are ten thousand miles of trenches on the Western Front alone it is sug- gested that the ranks of the Highland Regiments should be searched for Pied Pipers. Extract from school-girl’s examina- tion paper:—‘ The Lines of Torres Vedras were lines written during the Peninsular War. Torres Vedras was a very clever and strong-willed man. He wrote these lines to his daughter to ;|commemorate this dread- ) ful war.” 5 x {| ey | In the case of a youth- ful jockey making two | thousand a year the King’s | Bench has decided that as lan “infant” he is not |liable to pay income-tax. | | Several elderly million- | jaries are now asking | | whether this applies to | | second childhood. me The following letter was recently intercepted by the principal of a girls’ school, | 'addressed to Miss D. Robinson, Girls’ College, | Shrimpville-on-Sea :— Junior School, | --—- College for Boys, Shrimpville-on-Sea. | a My prear Dornorny,-—Fright- fully sorry I have not written before. How are you? Are they any good at hockey at your Coll.’? Iam not in the Ist XI for footer worse luck. I ama section officer & a music officer frightful swank eh what! Are they decent girls at your College ? With tors of love & kisses from Tom SMIrH. I am frightfully sorry but I have for- P.S. | gotten you sirname if Robinson is wrong. Note.—It was. «* An unexploded 12 in. shell has been found at the Corporation refuse destructor works at The assumption is that it was isposed of it by throwing ‘it into the ashpit.’”’ Daily Paper. As a 12 in. shell weighs 850 Ibs. it seems a very large assumption. “To clear the complexion. First I buy a yard of Turkish towelling which I make up into two washing-gloves: one of these I keep for the face only which I boil every week.’’ Home Chat. Personally we fry ours, but only once a VOL. CXLIX. cc

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| PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [December 22, 1915, A NON-STOPPER. [‘**To save expenditure in printing,’ the Northfleet (Kent) Urban Council have decided not to punctuate the official reports of their proceedings.’’—Obser ver. Mr. Punch, sympathising as he does with all kinds of economy, here tries his hand at a similar retrenchment, going even a step further and eliminat- ing capital letters ; but never again ! the friendly neutral who has been visiting germany austria bulgaria greece and turkey at the instigation of mr punch has now presented his re- port which runs as follows my last place of sojourn was berlin where i was fortunate in being able to take part in the celebration of herr bode’s seventieth birthday no one would guess that there was any war so enthusiastic were the crowds and so numerous and worthy were the pre- sents which included a genuine victor- ian leonardo another sign of the perfect tranquility of berlin and incidentally of the untruth that there is any food short- age was a policeman standing by the brandenburger gate who though a cop- per was not requisitioned by the war office and though exceedingly plump was unmolested by the housewives of the city passing on to vienna I was admitted to the honour of an interview with the aged emperor who is in the very pink of senile decay he said it is not true that the austrians are tired of the war on the contrary we enjoy every minute of it and its popularity increases daily nor are we in need of food it is only the other half of my empire that is hungary loud laughter i then essayed the balkans and succeeded in obtaining an interview with the royal recluse to gain admittance to his present throne room which so great is his people’s love for him is in the lower basement of the chief safe deposit of sofia was the work of only a mere week and i was then allowed to speak to him not. directly but through a perforated wall of steel several inches thick and not until after i had been searched to the bone we had however a charming talk and he re- affirmed his devotion to the kaiser and his conviction that after the war is over bulgaria will be second in power only to the german empire in turkey whither i next passed eager as i am to provide you sir with all the facts that can possibly flatter us i found complete contentment on every side except possibly among the armen- ians who however have not been heard to complain for some time possibly be- cause they are dead having bought a copy of the times at yildiz kiosk where it is on sale daily and greatly in demand | to hear that a play named after him is thought it was called tino and i thought but of course it is really tina he informed me that he spends all his waking hours or germany more than england and some day he hopes to know always provided that he can: keep venizelos at arms length while he is making up his mind having thus fulfilled the mission with which you were so good-as to entrust me i shall be glad to receive a cheque MENS SANA IN CORPORE SANO. Ir was a murky night, and the room with its cheerful fire seemed particu- larly inviting when I entered and addressed myself to the man who was busily writing in a book. “I’ve come at last,” I said. “Pleased to see you,” he answered. “T should have come long ago,” I continued, “only, you see, Jones and I had a small bet as to who would stick out the longer. I find Jones went yesterday, so here I am.” “Yes, you are,” he admitted, “ but—” “I’m five feet ten,” I went on, inter- rupting him. “Chest thirty-nine—or forty, 1’mnotsure which. Not bad,eh?” “ Excellent,” he agreed; “and I should say you weighed about twelve stone.” “Pretty right,” I said admiringly ; “but I hope you don’t propose to mul- tiply them all together and prove me the Beast in the Revelations.” He smiled gravely. “Then there’s my age,” I went on. “Can you guess that? or shall we postpone further discussion of my statistics until I’ve seen the doctor? I’d better see him to-night and get it over. Suspense would be very painful.” “Yes, perhaps you had better. I fancy that’s his step outside now.” He darted out of the room, and after a minute or two returned in company with a sombre-faced man with such a pronounced professional air that it seemed almost to formahaloround him. “You want to see me?” he inquired briskly. “ It’s usual, I believe,” I said. “ Shall I strip?” “T don’t think it will ‘be necessary. Just tell me how you feel.” | “I thought you always insisted on viewing the subject in puris natural-| \tbus, but no matter. As regards your question, I feel all right.” “ No drumming noises in the head ? and they are many wondering whether | eyebrows. he loves england more than germany | a closer look at you. i entered greece and had the felicity of| No sudden desires to do something interviewing the king who was gratified | rash ?”’ “None atall, Just ready to do what now holding the adelphi at least he| I’m ordered.” “That’s right. What made you it was more tactful not to put him right | come here at all?” “ Duty alone,” I told him. “H’m,” he murmured, raising his “Perhaps I’d better have Come this way.” He led me across a court-yard into a snug surgery, through which we passed into a room filled with weird-looking instruments. Having examined me with the aid of divers pieces of apparatus for about half-an-hour, he put them aside and turned to me. , “You're quite all right,” he said. “You 've nothing to fear.” “Thanks,” I said. “TI feel as sound as a bell.” * You are. Good night.” “‘T suppose I may tell the other chap I’m perfectly fit?” I asked. “Tf you want to,” he said non- chalantly. “The doctor has passed me,” I told the inquisitor, ‘so we can soon polish off the rest of the business. I sign some- thing, don’t I, and get a shilling or so?” A look of surprise spread over his face. “If the doctor says you’re all right, I suppose you must be,” he said slowly. “But what’s that you said about a shilling?” “Have you given up the time- honoured practice? I didn’t know, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Now what can I join? I think I should do rather well in the R.F.A.” His eyes suddenly lighted up with understanding. He rose and led me to the door. “ You must have mistaken the way in the fog,” he said kindly. “The Re- cruiting Office is round the corner to the right.” “Then this?” I gasped. “This,” he said, “is the Lunatic | Asylum. Mind the step.” But I had already fallen over it. WAR THRIFT. “+I gourneEyY by the Streatham tram My own true love to see ; I used to buy sweet marjoram For my sweet Marjorie. But now Bellona rules the scene; When I go there to tea I take a dab of margarine For my dear Marjorie. From a bookseller’s catalogue :— *‘ Coleridge's Ruins of the Ancient Marines.” This hitherto unknown work should be acquired for the library of the Royal United Service Institution.

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~~ | ; dia Wit we ve = ys i We “A LITTLE KAISER, GERMAN CHANCELLOR (singing). PUNCH, OR THE CAROLLING “GOD REST YOU, LET NOTHING LOUDER,. BETHMANN; LONDON CHARIVARI.—DecemBErR 22, 1915. q Wi Mi My yf | BY COMMAND. MERRY GERMANY, YOU DISMAY.” AND PUT MORE CONVICTION INTO IT.”

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December 22, 1915.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 505 vt NY \) * x Wr Village Clergyman. ‘‘Can I HELP You AT ALL?” Artilleryman, ‘* Yrs, Srr, you can.” Clergyman. ‘‘ WHAT SHALL I Do, THEN?”’ Artilleryman. ‘* WELL, Str, IF YOU WOULDN’T MIND GOING A BIT. FURTHER UP THE STREET THE HORSES WILL UNDERSTAND THE LANGUAGE BETTER.”’ |yourself. You see, this is what the|rule begin (why did that make father OUR CHILDREN’S CORNER. : : book says :— ‘laugh, Uncle Punch ?) with the hero or (A Point of Style.) “1. The plot must be striking and |heroine’s name, and let it be an attrac- Is not this a charming letter from | original. Ask yourself, ‘Could anyone| tive one.” Isobel ? |have thought of this?’ and if the} Now we come to the difficulty. I Dear Uncie Puncn,—I thought you | answer is ‘ Yes’ it’s no good.” Well,| began: ‘“ Lieut. Tony Sutherington’s, might like to know that Tony and I| that’s all right, because Tony Suther-|D.C.M., D.S.C., M.V.O., D.S.O., V.C., are writing a story, because Tony says | ington is most awfully brave, and he’s M.D., K.C. jaws snapped like steel,” these writer fellows make pots of) been out to the Front and got all the and Tony said that made it look as if | money, and he knows a chap at school | letters we can find in the paper after it was his jaws that were D.C.M., etc.; whose father is one, and he gets a) his name; and he’s in love with Isobel | so he put, “ Lieut. Tony Sutherington, shilling a word, and if we write a lot of |Bruce, who is the prettiest girl in the 'D.C.M., D.S.C., M.V.O., D.S.O., V.C., words that would be ever so much, | county, and she refused him when he|M.D., K.C.’s jaws,” and I don’t think wouldn’t it? And perhaps we'd get was a clerk before the War, but marries! that’s right, because it looks as if the more for the big ones; and we’re going| him when he comes home wounded. | jaws had belonged to just the K.C. part. to put it all into the War Loan and win | Many people couldn’t have thought of! Do tell us which you’d say, Uncle | the War, and then Father and Tom | that, could they? And you don’t think Punch, and we'll let you read it before | can come home again. It’s quite easy it will matter their having our own anyone. Yours always, IsoBen. except just the beginning, because we Christian names, do you, because that} [That is a very difficult question, both got “ Very good” for spelling last! will make it so autozoological, like; dear Isobel, but I should try “The term, and I’ve thought of a splendid! David Copperfield, when we become! jaws of Lieut., ete.” I’m sure it will plot, and Tony’s bought a book, ‘“‘ How famous ? be a lovely story.—U. P.] to write Short Fiction,” which tells us | “2. It must be topical.’”’ That means exactly how to do it. about the War, you know, so it’s all| «The sight of the men asleep on the para- I’ll tell you all about it, Uncle right too. pet during these long nights always impresses | Punch, because I know you're aj “3. Grip your reader right away. |™e profoundly.”"—Morning Paper. literal old gentleman, and I expect} Have a snap in the first sentence. It;The spectacle would probably not be you've had some practice at stories is a good plan to always as a general lost upon the enemy either. |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. . [DEcEMBER 22, 1915. the Company football and a washing bowl in addition tome. Even allowing XII. for my rather emaciated condition—as My pear Mr. Puncu,—We Terri-|a result of the hot-season—the propor- torials in India are gradually coming | tions seemed altogether too generous. A TERRITORIAL IN INDIA. to realise the significance of our position | But I think I see now that it is meant here. statements, we fondly imagined we! not as impressively proportioned as it At first, misled by semi-official |as a gentle hint that my normal figure is | had been sent out ‘mainly for the should be in order to awe the natives, purpose of being trained under favour- and that it is up to me to develop it able conditions in the gentle art of till it conforms to standard. Mean- slaying Bosches. Months passed, and| while I suppose the pillow, the Com-_ | as the hot weather came upon us and pany football and the washing bowl | _ we were split up into numerous detach-! will have to accompany me when I go ments, which rendered war training for the time being almost impossible, we | began to perceive our error. Now over a year has elapsed since we landed in’ Bombay, and we are | persuaded in our own minds that we _ are not, after all, destined to be useful in the manner of fighters, |~ but to serve our purpose during the Great War by being merely ornamental. We have, in other words, come to the conclusion that it is our sole duty by the splendour of our appearance | to impress the peoples of. India with the might and) glory of Britain. Some go, so far as to assert that we were specially selected for this purpose by Lord Krr- CHENER, after anxious con- sideration, on account of the matchless beauty and symmetry of our persons and the magnificence of our physique. Still, whatever we are asked to do, we are patri- | otically determined to do! on parade. In view of the foregoing alleged ex-| ‘planation of our presence in India, there are naturally differences of opinion in the regiment as to what constitutes | discipline. Some are all for rigid formalities and the harsh ways of the i Ls WQS Se Front). ‘‘ THAT’LL FETCH FATHER CHRISTMAS.’ i tN wt | Small Boy (who has whe ed pe boot of | brother home jr om the the small matter of sloping arms from the stand-at-ease position. We used to count silently as we carried out the different motions — one, two, three, four—cutting the right hand away smartly at four. After a time there grew up a tendency to make the move- ments too huried, so, instead of counting four, we began to count seven, moving only on the odd numbers—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. This, it was presently decided, made us too slow, so another method was adopted, and we were told to count—one and two and three and four. These and similar changes inspired certain frivolous privates to invent other ways of ensuring uniformity of movement in manual drill. If you chanced to look into our bungalow one afternoon you would probably find one —|man in a corner busily sloping arms as he mur- ‘murs to himself, “Twice ‘one are two; twice two are four ; twice three are six; , twice four are ezght.” An- other would be performing | the same action while mut- tering ‘“ Mensa, mensa, mensam—mensae, mensae, mensa—mensae, mensae, mensas—mensarum,, men- sis, mens?s.”” Yet another would be reciting— ‘There is a happy land Far; far away Where tn. Se t have stew Three times a day.’’ And to justify the ex- | pectation—which in reality we all nurse at the bottom of our hearts—that some day __'we shall be required at it well, even if it is no more than to look beautiful. Consequently,. when an inspection of our battalion by the | General was announced a short time | ago, we resolved to surpass ourselves. | Such a creaking of starched tunics, | a such a glittering of equipment, such a flashing of bayonets, such a mingled aroma of hair-oil and tooth-paste, have _ never been known before in all India. In the short march to the maidan, dust | had settled upon our mirror-like boots. Native cleaning boys were hastily _ summoned to kneel and restore our | footgear to its pristine brilliance as we stood in review order on the parade | ground, till the nose of the General’s | horse appeared round the corner. There is generally some reason, you look for it, underlying even the) | most puzzling actions of the Army | We have recently been | ness by rightly paying great attention No detail is con-| that we are entitled to benefit by the / authorities. | issued with serge uniforms for the cold | martinet. Others believe in the most free-and-easy methods consistent with efficiency. It becomes a little con- fusing for the long-suffering private at times. Yesterday, when I was acting as Mess Orderly, the Battalion Orderly Sergeant chanced to be of the martinet type. At dinner-time he formed us up in companies, called us to attention, dressed us by the right, numbered us in a series of stentorian and bark-like orders, and sent us marching off in fours to .our respective cookhouses, heads up and arms swinging, left, right, left, right . . . OurCompany Orderly Corporal, of the opposite school, bore it with resignation until we were out of earshot. Then he said quietly, if|“ Halt! Fall out and get your —— grub!” We strive to increase our impressive- to ceremonial drill. the Front, we do not neglect to train assiduously in field work. If we expend much facetious argument as to whether shovels should properly be carried at the trail or at the slope, and whether the points of picks should or should not be burnished daily, this does not prevent us from getting underground with great speed and efficiency when the time comes to use them. Privately I may confide to you that we argue as follows :— The best British troops are those trained in India : We are trained in India: *, we are the best British troops. And we do our utmost to live up to it. Yours ever, OnE oF THE PuncH BRIGADE. P.S.—The Home Government has not, as we feared, entirely forgotten us. We have just been officially informed weather, and I was at first surprised | sidered too unimportant in our efforts | maternity clauses of the Insurance | to find room in Nid tunic for a pillow, | after gues. Take, for aatangt, Act on and after lst November, 1915.

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00 ad, nd ed nt ou ne ir- Ww X- by of hy ut in 1d ut ar ld ot d iS d 1e DecEMBER 22, 1915.] 5]__ PUNCH, OR THE = ize ll Ul! { edi AT ATTN, \ t “intl Aa i " \\ \ WN Old Lady. ‘‘So, WiLL1aM, YOU’VE COME BACK TO US WOUNDED, I HEAR. Old Lady. ‘‘A SHELL! OH, DEAR, DEAR! AND DID IT EXPLODE?”’ William. ‘‘ExpLtopeE, Mum? Not LIKELY. LONDON CHARIVARL 507 How DID IT HAPPEN?”’ William, ‘Surety, Mcum.”’ It JUST CREPT SOFTLY UP BEHIND—AND BIT ME!’ |followed our example. She had just CASES. | got to the wr stage of ‘the By a V.A.D, shampoo when there came an impera- Wincrietp House, the voluntary! tive knock at the entrance door. I hospital we were attached to, was an | dropped my brush, bundled my hair off-shoot of St. Elmo’s, the large and /|into my cap, which fortunately is one dignified mother institution which was! of the kind that covers a multitude of supposed to feed us with patients when | sins, and went to see who it was. it happened to remember our existence. |There stood an R.A.M.C. man and a No wonder we thought we were for-|big motor ambulance drawn up at gotten when week after week went by | the gate. and the wards, which we had rubbed} “What have you got there?” I and scrubbed and polished till we could | gasped. see our enthusiastic faces in practically| ‘Seven cases for you, Sister,” he everything, were still lacking those] replied cheerfully. ‘ From St. Elmo’s.” stricken heroes we longed to succour, “Oh, but I cried; “there’s help and comfort. At last, in answer|some mistake. We were told none to a tentative inquiry from our Com-| were coming till next week.” mandant, we received a rather curt} The R.A.M.C. man shook his head. official intimation that we need not| ‘I don’t know anything about that, expect any cases for at least a week.| Sister,” he said. ‘This is Wingfield On the strength of this the Matron|House. My orders was to bring ’em took the night off, the three trained | here, and Ican’t take ‘em back.” Sisters went home for the week-end,! “Oh no, of course not,” I said hastily, and the ward-maids went to the|my head in a whirl. “ pictures,” leaving me and Doris and} “ My mate’ll give me a hand to bring the Commandant in charge, and rather |’em in,’ he continued briskly; “and at a loose end. There was a lovely; we'll set ’em down in the ’all till you big fire in the kitchen, so Doris and | show us where to take ’em.” I improved the shining hour by wash- | I flew to the kitchen with the news, ing our hair, and we were just finishing | and I shall never forget the expression off the drying process when the Com- | on our Commandant’s face as she lifted mandant came in, and, being struck it from the basin. But she was great. by the soundness of the scheme, }Giving her hair a quick mop up with a towel, she thrust it into her cap, had her apron on in a jiffy, and, ignoring the soapy water trickling down her back, gave orders as if she were on parade. The discipline and training Doris and I had undergone told too. Spurred by heavy footsteps in the entrance and the sound of helpless burdens being carefully set down, in less than ten minutes we had the fire blazing in the ward, the beds turned down, kettles boiling and cocoa simmering, and everything ready to hand. Then, led by the Commandant, we went to receive our first cases, and found that the R.A.M.C. men had triumphantly deposited in the hall— seven cases of blankets! ‘* Lady recommends Woman, lived with her six years, plain cook, or would go abroad with lady, look after children, or Ireland."’ Morning Paper. Mr. Brrreti might be glad of her as an under-study. ‘‘The Board of Guardians on Wednesday considered the question of Christmas extras for the Workhouse inmates, and decided to curtail the festive fare. On this occasion roast beef will take the place of boiled beef, and the quantity per head is to be 6-ozs. instead of the | usual four and a half.’’ East Grinstead Observer. | The delighted inmates are ready for any ‘amount of curtailment on these lines.

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508 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [DECEMBER 22, 1915, A WOUNDED HERO. (By One oF THEM). I rai my head back comfortably against the pillows and glanced at | Eleanor sidew vays. “ And now,” I said, “ you must never forget that I am a wounded hero— wounded hero, that is, as long as I am wounded, and then of course a hero pure and simple. This implies that our relative positions will not be quite what they were before the War.” Eleanor looked at me suspiciously. I should explain that she has an in- credibly low opinion of my activities in every field of human endeavour that I have so far entered. She has also a scorn for my personal appearance, which in her less imaginative moments renders her most unwilling to be seen with me at public functions. Indeed, it has always been a source of per- manent and unconcealed amazement ta her relations and of modified surprise and gratification to myself that she should ever have chosen me for a husband at all. But that is another story, which I will tell upon another occasion. “Pooh,” said Eleanor. I allowed a soupcon of pain to mingle with the ‘“ wounded hero” look which I had been practising in front of the looking-glass every morning for a fort- night and was wearing at the moment. “But if I am not a wounded hero is it not clear,” said I, with a happy touch of the Socratic method, “is it not clear that I must be a wounded coward ? Perhaps you suggest,” said I with growing heat, “ that I myself shot myself through the leg?” (I was suf- fering from the uncomplicated passage of a German bullet through my thigh). Eleanor was by this time frankly scornful. ‘My dear child,” she said, “no one who looks like you look could ever be a real hero,” and she gave me one of her firm glances, clearly expect- ing by decisive treatment at the start to banish this latest bogie from my brain. “That’s because your mother brought you up on novels in which the hero stood six-foot-cdd in his stockings, had eyes of flame and an'unnatural supply of honey-coloured hair, Such men are out of date nowadays. Their height would prove fatal to them in a trench even if their constitution proved equal to the preliminary hardships. No, Eleanor, heroes nowadays are made of less obvious stuff.” I closed my eyes, an invalid ruse which I often found effective. Were she less invincibly attractive in all her ways I should describe Eleanor’s comment as something between a snufillc and a sniff. “There are proud moments ahead of you,” I went on. “As, for example, when you are able to drive by my side round and round Hyde Park in my grandparents’ motor. Picture to your- self how the women in the crowd will nudge each other as we glide under the arch at Hyde Park Corner; how they will murmur“ Lucky girl! Lucky girl!’” I paused a moment for any com- ments which Eleanor might make on this sunny forecast. I judged, how- ever, from her exprzssion that her thoughts were not on the happy tour which I had been planning for her. I felt that I must strike a nobler note. “And then nothing is more certain than that the Kine and QueEEN will visit this hospital,” I went on. ‘Twice already since I was here it has been reported that Their Majesties were coming; and if the startling conse- quences which this announcement has had upon the flagging energies of the V.A.D.’s. have sometimes tempted me to doubt whether the rumour started so far away as Buckingham Palace there is little doubt that, upon the next occa- sion, Their Gracious Majesties will by their actual presence in our midst banish so unworthy a suspicion.” I stopped to recover my breath after this unexpectedly long sentence. Eleanor’s eyes were far away. “On that day the procedure will be something like this,” I said, looking prophetically out of the window. “ My bed will be placed in a prominent posi- tion upon the hospital lawn. I shall wear ny green pyjamas and a brown woolly waistcoat secured by a safety- pin at the throat. The fissure in my leg will be hidden beneath a red blanket. The drawn expression on my face will be released into a slightly wan smile as the Royal couple approach. I shall indicate you standing behind me at a suitable distance with Griselda in your arms, and I shall say, ‘ Perhaps Your Majesties will allow me to intro- duce to you my spouse and little one.’ Whereupon you, wearing that jolly hat with little side wings that I like so much ”’—TI glanced at Eleanor to see how this subtle compliment: had been received, and discovered her with chin on her hand obviously paying no atten- tion to what I was saying—“ wearing that hat with rooks’ wings projecting on each side which always attracts so much attention,” I resumed fiercely and was rewarded by a flicker of Bleanor’s eyelids, ‘ will advance with dignity towards the Royal party. It might quite well happen,” I said, “that they, observing the satisfactory nature of our offspring, should confer some suitable military or other dis- tinction upon me.” “T can’t make up my mind,” said Eleanor slowly, “whether to put Griselda into short clothes to-morrow or whether to wait till next month.” But a quarrel was averted by our daughter and, as we sometimes with ill-founded optimism describe her, our heiress. She had been asleep in my arms for at least ten minutes, but now awoke with small cries which developed, as she observed my moustached and | still unfamiliar countenance, into a | consecutive wail. “There, there—did she want her mother, then?” said Eleanor quickly and, not without satisfaction, taking her from me. That, I find, is one of the great dis- advantages of a family of three in its initial stages. I am always the oppo- sition, and my most flawless reasoning is always crushed by that solid majority | | | | of two. But Eleanor is generous in | victory. “You'll let me know in plenty of | time if the Kine and QUEEN are really | coming, won’t you?” she said, and | kissed 1 me. There was irony in that kiss, cer- tainly ; but I still think that there was about it also a dash of something | which I had never noticed in similar | signs of recognition vouchsafed to me | before the War. | SOUTHAMPTON. Tne sky is grey and the clouds are | weeping ; Winter wails in the wind again ; Night with her eyes bedimmed comes creeping ; | The sea is hidden in dusk and rain. | This is the gate of the path that leads us Whither our duty the goal has set ; This is the way Old England speeds us— Darkness, iisibiisin wind and wet! This is the gate where battle sends us, | Gaunt and broken, in pain and pride; This is the weleome Home extends us— | Weeping rain on the cold grey tide. Would we have balmy sunshine glowing Over the blue from the blue above ? Rather the rain and the night wind blowing, Rather the way of the land we love! More Material for Sir A. Markham. ‘* Recruiting officers from Luton were again in attendance at the Infants’ School on Tues- day afternoon for the purpose of attestation of recruits, when a good number of eligibles were dealt with.’’—Luton News. “At Oldham Private John —-, aged 1, was charged with being an absentee from the West Riding Regiment.” Dundee Evening Telegraph.

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said put rrow ” Le - our with , our | my | now yped, and | to a | her ickly king dis- | n its ppo- ning ority | s in y of | pally | and | cer- | was | hing | nilar | ) me | | are a: & gain ues- on of were Drceper 22, 1915] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 509 WHAT THE REVUE WILL HAVE TO COME TO. Ture Leaprna LADY AND JEUNE PREMIER SING A LOVE DUET i ahd j (dl | ! o H, Y Granp Patriotic FrNace. > | F Uy ¢ Mi y 2 Z , Yy y Vy. y OcR GALLANT BOYS ON SEA AND LAND.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL [DecemBER 22, 1915. = CQMEN I —~ Want Nha ay RR \ CHRISTMAS AMENITIES. German Sentry. ‘‘SHALL WE ZING YOU ZOME CAROLS TO CHEER YOU OOP?”? English Sentry. ‘‘Noa! SInG Us SOMETHING FUNNY. SING US THE ‘’YMN oF ’ATE’!”’ ideal of pleasure—to watch men work, and especially, as I say, gardeners and woodcutters. That a gardener should | be popular is natural enough, for he is continually turning over fresh mould | and revealing new and succulent articles | of diet; and yet I don’t think the) robin’s is cupboard love either. I have observed a robin watching a gardener for long periods and he has never touched food; and the woodcutter’s toil is of course wholly unproductive of nutrition. It must be on the robin’s | part an honest liking for human society, mixed with curiosity and possibly a YOUNG ROBIN RED. Way, from the point of view of man, is the robin the most sociable of birds? Why is he less affrighted by the phenomenon of a human being than any other feathered thing? I look in vain to the ornithologists for the reason. AupuBON cannot te!l me, Morris withholds the answer, and BowDLer SHarPE is dumb. They can be great on his changing waistcoat, loquacious on his Winter song, and even too informative for a sensitive reader on his distressing habit of killing his parents; but they leave the reason |freakish pleasure in playing the fore- of his passion for gardeners, his adora-|man, the gaffer. Certainly no gaffer, | tion for woodcutters, a mystery. And}|not even the most detested, ever did not only is the reason a mystery, but | less or surveyed more searchingly. the very presence of the bird is a| Let us then leave it as a blend of | | mystery too, for at one moment there is | inquisitiveness and friendliness; but not a robin within miles, and there at why the thrush is devoid of it, and) the next, with the first prod at the earth, | the sparrow and the goldfinch and the. with the first fall of the chopper, a red- | wagtail, is a problem for the Gilbert breast has materialised—saucy, saga-! Whites of our day. These birds almost cious, critical, vigilant. {equally haunt the lawn, but at the’! It was, I fancy, Dan Leno who first. first sight of man they are off. | remarked that he loved work; he could; One particular robin that I have in| he observed me walking thither and fol- lowed. The day for once being sunny I left the door open; and in flew the robin to see what on earth I could be about. I reached down one volume, he perched on another—a dictionary. That displeasing him, he flew to a row of Dickens; from these to a new novel on the table, then to a bust of Junius Cmsar, and again to Litiywaire’s Scores and Biographies. It was then that I came away, the robin preceding me by a couple of yards. All the way back to the house he flitted about me, so that I felt like an Italian prince I once saw leaving Venice, after a civic ceremony, in his motor-boat, escorted by aeroplanes. Half-an-hour later I chanced to go into the kitchen, and there the robin was again, watching the cook. Two persons in so small a room being too much for him, he made for the door, not in the foolish panicky style of the ordinary bird that has strayed indoors, but with quiet precision. And now I am wondering if science that can do so much cannot utilise and stand, he added, for hours and watch | mind is so fascinated by the spectacle | direct this remarkable gift of espionage. men working. Many have said it since,!of the labourer, no matter in what/|Flitting silent as a spirit and resented for low comedians are not too nice! capacity, that to-day he actually paid|by no man, not even a German, what about repetition, but Dan, I believe, attention to me, who do no more than|valuable information a robin might began it, and one almost thinks he got drive a reluctant pen. I had occasion | collect, and, crossed with a parrot, what it from a robin. For it is the robin’s | to consult a bcok in a garden room, and | valuable information he might impart !

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Decemper 22, 1915. 36 === fol- any the i be me, ary. row vel US rE'S hen ling vay me, ivic ‘ted go Was a. ons ZT ZA for : ae ars the aoe LL oe ary J oe a 2 s vith | Vemaad Par ids ra? "@ nce and > T,) ‘ ATT) 1 j a - RELUCTANT SWAINS. | tec hat GerMAniA (under the mistletoe). “DO YOU KNOW YOU’RE THE ONLY THREE GENTLEMEN ght WHO’VE KISSED ME?” hat "7 Tur Davunriess Taree (aside), “AND WE COULDN’T VERY WELL GET OUT OF IT!” urt !

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29 aa, DECEMBER 1915.]} PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. (EXTRACTED FROM THE Diary OF Topsy, M.P.) House of Commons, Monday, Decem- ber 13th.—Profound mystery broods over fate of E. Jones, Member for Merthyr-Tydvil. Has not for more than a fortnight been seen in his usual haunts, including House of Commons. Rumoured he has accepted service in ranks of Y.M.C.A. Unper-Secre- loftily replied, ‘‘ I do not represent the Young Men’s Christian Association in this House.” That made clear, committed himself to statement that missing Member had “gone to the Near East ’’—personal addresses neces- sarily vague just now — under auspices of the Association. MarknaM, always practical, sug- gested that the vagrant should be captured, brought home and enrolled as a _ recruit under Lord Dersy’s scheme. Cold water thrown on proposal by expression of doubt whether the hon. Member was “big enough round the chest.” Subject dropped. Member for Merthyr left missing. “Curious how phrases recur,” mused the MempBer For Sark. “ TENNANT protesting that he does not represent the Young Men’s Christian Association (which he might well do) recalls Bonny Spencer’s famous declaration which, some time in the last century, amused a crowded House. Interposing in debate on a question relating to wages of farm labourers, Bossy, dressed in height of fashion, his lofty collar gleaming round his stately neck, turned languid eyes upon the SPEAKER, and remarked, ‘Sir, Iam not an agricultural labourer.’ ”’ Business done.—CHANCELLOR OF Ex- CHEQUER moved Second Reading of Bill authorising purchase of all suitable American and Canadian securities held in this country. Some criticism of de- tails by financial experts. But Second Reading conceded without dissent. Tuesday.— Question of payment of Members to the front again. On this occasion Ministers roped in. Cowan asked whether in order to reinforce by example appeals for personal sacrifice addressed by Ministers of the Crown to TARY FOR Wank, pressed for information, | PrEMIER wouldn’t hear of such a thing. Income of Ministers and Mem- bers is, he with other classes of the community. ‘Pressed by succession of questions he rose to full height of his commanding personality. Unconsciously assuming attitude reminiscent of Asax defying | the lightning, he said, “I take my salary and am going to continue taking it.” Great weight lifted from mind of Members uneasily watching growth of movement. If Ministers will not con- ‘sent to reduction of their salaries why THE PRIME MINISTER DEFIES ASSAULTS ON HIS SALARY. should private Members be called upon | to illustrate their lectures on economy and self-denial on part of general public | by relinquishing portion of the £400 a | year which they voted to themselves |in time of peace and prosperity? Loud cheers supported Prime Mints- | TER in his heroic determination. | Cowan, now and later, had rather a jbad time with the Four-Hundred- |Pounders. His conversation with | Premier interrupted by apparently ‘irrelevant questions. “Will the right hon. gentleman,” said, taxed in common! all classes of the community the Prime | one asked the Premier, “consider the MrnIsTER would take steps to reduce | high profit of manufacturers of penny- by not less than twenty-five per cent. | in-the-slot gas meters ?” emoluments of public servants, includ-| Gas meters turned on again in course ing Ministers and private Members of | of Cowan’s speech on moving rejection House of Commons, in receipt of salaries! of Parliament Bill. Called to order exceeding £300 per annum. | by SPEAKER with instruction to avoid irrelevancy, he was entreated to “ Put /another penny in the slot.” Business done.—Bill extending life ‘of present Parliament passed second reading without threatened division. To this end Bonar Law contributed powerfully persuasive speech. House of Lords, Wednesday.—Lord | Drrsy, rising this afternoon to reply to question as to measure of success attendant upon his Recruiting Scheme, met with reception of warmth rare in this chilly atmosphere. The superb service he has done the State by strenu- ous, unremitting, well-directed efforts to bring men to the colours recog- nised by Lord Crewe in brief speech of graceful congratulation. As LEADER OF THE Hovsk said, Lord Dersy is better fitted than any other man for gigantic task undertaken. Might have put it that he is the only man willing and able to do the work. His personal qualities, his experience, military and civil, his friendly rela- tions with all classes throughout the country, political and social, combine to give him a unique position. History will write many glowing pages recording individual achievements since the War began. None is more splendid than that of the man who succeeded in stirring the nation to the pitch of enthusiasm that makes possible the placing in the field of a fourth million of trained soldiers. Business done.—Bill to amend Munition Act read a second time in Commons. Thursday.— ATTORNEY-GENERAL, standing at Table to announce on behalf of self and Soricrror- GENERAL voluntary relinquishment of considerable portion of their Ministerial income presented noble figure to yearning eyes of almost crowded House. Whilst others have been talking about self-sacrifice, with general tend- ency, strongly marked, to press its observance upon the favourable atten- tion of their neighbours, the Law Officers of the Crown have simply achieved it. They save an exchequer drained by unprecedented expenditure for war purposes a joint sum amount- ing to £10,000 a year. If that be not enough they “are prepared to consent to any ‘reduction our colleagues in the Government or the House of Commons | of the case.” | If this doesn’t fetch the Four-Hun- | dred-Pounders nothing will. consider is required by the necessities | Business done.—Increase of Rent Bill | and other Government measures ad- | vanced a stage.

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| 614 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [DrecemBER 22, 1915, IF WE HAD BEEN PRUSSIANS. ScENES FROM-A REVISED History OF GREAT BRITAIN. | , . j a KITTY: A WAR PORTRAIT. | Four years ago, when down at Sheen, I stayed with Hale, a college crony, | My godchild Kitty, just fifteen, She was a cheerful, slangy kid ; She played a dashing game of hockey; | And everything she said or did Was “rotten,” or “ top-hole,” or “ yocky.” Then Kitty took a studious line, She banned the British Philistine, She read and acted in Greek Plays, Discountenanced the social scurry, And spent laborious nights and days With Sornoctes and GILBirt Murray, Another year came swiftly round, And, yielding to a primal passion, Miss Kitty in the van was found Among the votaries of fashion ; She made a cult of modish follies ; | And Pekinese of golden-brown | Supplanted her devoted collies. | Then came the War, and all the traits | | Whosegrowth herelders wereafraidof| For pride was swallowed up in pity. | | ! | Epwarp ITT, (to Queen Pumrp4, after the taking of Calais). ‘Woman, YOU MEDDLE. WaR IS WAR! BESIDES, YOU ARE TOO LATE.” | : ' Lived mainly for her dogs and pony; | And sought to “ petrify her tutors” ; | And sniffed at cricketers and shooters; | Her hair was up, her skirts were down ; | Dislimned, revealing to our gaze O woman, everlasting sphinx, The real stuff that she was made of;; "Tis not the least of War’s surprises | That from the ashes of a minx Rebuking, too, the cynic pens A ministering angel rises! That quoted the Virgilian notum | Quid possit femina furens, And showing us the New Factotum. | A Christmas Tip. With both her brothers at the Front, | ‘When you burst send to Blank’s, New | Street.’’—Advt. in ‘* Worcester Times.”’ Her father working at munitions, | | She found the ancient pleasure-hunt Repugnant to her new ambitions; | Shecooked; she nursed; she sold herear; She felt ‘‘ more natural without it”; |She ran the house without a jar And never made a song about it. From a Parliamentary report :— ‘« Mr. Cowan (L.) rising to move the rejec- tion of the Bill . . . Mr. Thorne (turning to Mr. Cown) :—‘ Go on: turn on the gas-meter. (Laughter.) Mr. Cowen (proceeding) .. .’”’ Evening Paper. ‘It is a pity Mr. Conen is no longer in | There was no stricken household near, the House, or he might have had a |__ No home too intimate with sorrow, | hand in this coincidence. | But gathered from her words of cheer | Solace and strength to face the) morrow ; And when the wounded saw her come To sing them songs or write their ne ‘ ; — = a |The dead-head habit is so easily picked letters, | i : The grinding pains that grip and numb "UP at the theatre. | > Seemed to relax their cruel fetters. | | | ‘Tt is a difficult matter to keep the custom of the Mayor and Corporation officially attend- ing the Parish Church alive.’’ Provincial Paper. | ‘*Mr. McKenna said that there were a | number of useful questions to facilitate saving | by wage earners, and he would bring these before the committee which was going to in- vestigate the honeymoon.’’—The People. We trust this does not presage a tax on matrimony. So when I met the other day This new, transformed, Kitty The gold had triumphed o’er the clay, | ennobled

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Ww >C- DrceMBER 22, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 515 HOW TO TOUCH THE WORKING | ze MAN’S POCKET. | 2 Dear Mr. Puncn,—You will have gathered by this time that I never like | to be left out of any newspaper discus- sion that is going on, and I wish to! assure you that I never put any restric- tion upon the publication of my views. You are quite at liberty to make any use you like of my opinions upon how the War Loan is to be introduced to} the Working Man. A lot of weighty | statements have already been made, explaining to us the preferences of the Working Man. There must, we are! told, be no fluctuations because he} doesn’t like them, and no use of the} words per centum because he doesn’t | understand them. There must be no vouchers because he has nowhere to ' keep them. There must be no distant | date of repayment because he won't | wait, and no conversion rights because he distrusts them. Again, the amount must be paid by instalments, so that he may be led to confuse the thing with furniture and goose-clubs. Fin- ally—and this is crucial—(a) the money must be collected in the works ; (b) the money must be collected in the home. Such, Sir, is the current picture of the Working Man. I cannot say that I recognise him, but all the same I think we might set to work to smooth away these little difficulties and thereby open a clear path to success. We can, in the first place, stop fluc- tuations once and for all by legislation which shall nail the loan to perpetual par. Anyone paying either more or if? less can be stuck in gaol, under the Gy fpiyfZ ht, 964 Fi » Defence of the Realm Act, for creating UN fy LTR TT Z Zz Z Ufebdeg zip Wig “sf Hi ; S undue depression or inducing undue y HON My oN =~ \ Lae — elation in the Kine’s subjects. No av Teg Ui) LEZ a nS difficulty there. Again, there need be - ey : GLOOMY FORECAST OF DURATION OF THE WAR. no trouble about the phrase per centum. Youthful Delinquent (who has just been ‘ corrected’’ by his mother). ‘*You’Lu BE : \ i cae NTE % AA a a i iM "4 “4 : = * ' ol “ —~ a — \) It need not be mentioned. A plain fact should be stated in plain language. Let} s-sorry ror Tus WHEN I’m G-GONE TO THE War.” our motto be, “ A tanner on every quid 3 twice a year.” That should be printed | But there are other tokens, symbols or |the point about collecting by instal- | in bold type at the top of the scrip. emblems besides paper. Nay, more,|ments will be found to have solved But this raises the question of scrip.|an opportunity opens up here for/itself, as the application will be Paper must be avoided at all costs.| killing a second bird with the same| | The Working Man distrusts paper. It|old stone, by using the Government's | is altogether too handy as a pipe-light | acknowledgment for brightening the when matches run short; besides, if} home. Why, I ask you, should it he sticks it in a drawer, it is apt to get | not take the form of a china dog for down the back ; besides, in any other|the mantelpiece? One dog for each | practically equivalent to purchasing furniture on the easy-payment plan. And, Sir, if it be really true that goose ‘clubs have such an enormous vogue ‘among the masses, why not throw in a goose ? safe place the spring cleaning is certain | pound subscribed. Ten dogs one time-| There is generally a happy solution | to find it out, and we cannot be sure! piece. Ten timepieces one framed and of our War difficulties if they are fairly that the War will be over by the|signed portrait of Lord Krrcnenrr. I faced by people of imagination. Spring. But why, Sir, need we insist | do not insist upon dogs. Local custom | Tam, Yours as usual, on paper? It is a mere conyention.|should be studied. There are districts | STATISTICIAN. The suggestion that the amount be/| where a pewter mug might be preferred. tattooed on the holder’s arm I reject, } But. can anyone quarrel with the prin- simply because, looking ahead to the|ciple? I think not. Our Helpful Contemporaries. “A Littlehampton allotment gardener has time when the issue is redeemed, I can | Finally, in this scheme for providing dug up a parsnip forty-seven inches long— | See no way out of it but amputation. i concrete reminders of the investment, | about 4 feet.’"—Evening News.

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516 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL {December 22, 1915. AT THE PLAY. “Wnuo 1s HE?” SeverAL influences had contributed to make an eccentric of Lord Twyford of Twyford (alias “ Mr. Parker”). There was his parentage for one. His mother (I follow his own account) was an angel, and his father prematurely bald with a cast in his eye. On the female side he had inherited a taste for anony- mous charity, which took the form of penny buns stuffed with half-crowns and distributed to hungry people under cover of darkness. The optical defect of the other parent (his premature bald- ness does not seem to have exerted any hereditary influence) was no doubt a determining factor in the son’s choice of the microscope as a medium for nature-study. But, apart from this predisposition to a habit of life unusual in a Peer of the realm, his mind had been incidentally deranged by an un- fortunate affair of the heart. His lady, jealous of the microscope which came between them, had jilted him in favour of a cousin of his, and the expenses of their elopement had been met by a forged cheque drawn in the name of the aggrieved party. Obeying that instinct for secretive- ness which was so excellent a feature in his philanthropy, Lord Twyford had fled from the ridicule of Society and under an assumed name had sought the shelter of obscure lodgings, from which he only emerged at nightfall. Here the smallness of his bag and the tendency to inconsequence in his speech (the result of mental shock) might justly have roused suspicions; but the vagaries of a ground-floor lodger, how- ever limited his luggage and however vague his explanations of himself, are never too closely scrutinised so long as he pays handsomely and in advance. Unhappily, however, “ Mr. Parker's” escapade coincided with a Jack-the- Ripper scare, and his most innocent eccentricities (notably his nocturnal largesse of buns) soon had a sinister interpretation put upon them by a vigilant police. The misunderstand- ings that followed tended to develop |. an atmosphere of general insanity, and his landlady’s behaviour, based upon a conviction that all was not what it should be in her lodger’s head, fell under a like suspicion on his part. In the event, both his mind and the situ- ation were cleared by the intervention, respectively, of a new love and an old solicitor, and all ended well along the simple lines of homely melodrama. The charm of a scheme that has an eccentric for its leading character is that it gives you all the fun of farce without its cruder buffooneries. His \\ oi \\ AY \ \N \ VN \ N 4 AN INTERRUPTED PROPOSAL, Reversing the old story, ‘‘ Mr. Parker” (Mr. Henry AINvey) actually says, ‘‘ Shut that door,’? but his lady-love understands that ‘‘ Je t’'adore” is intended. somersaults are mental and not phy- sical. He does not catch his toe in a material tin-tack; he trips over a kink in his brain. Of course, under favour- able conditions his eccentricity is liable to be infectious—to communicate itself to those for whom nature had never designed it; and before you can turn round you are over the borderland be- tween comedy and farce. But in respect “EXPENSIVE SIMPLICITY.” Irene Harding (Miss IRENE Browne) con- trives to starve gracefully in Grafton Street frocks of the latest fashion. |of his protagonist the author can always claim the perquisites of irre- | sponsibility. He can always say, | This is a figure of comedy; just thus and thus my creation would behave in | the life.” Which indeed is unanswer- able, for here there are no precedents | to follow and no rules to break. It is true that my lord, by a disappearance | which was bound to get into the papers, /must defeat his own desire to escape ‘ridicule; but then he is an eccentric. | True that, for an alleged woman-hater, | he falls rather rapidly in love with the first woman he meets after his jilting ; but what would you? He is an eccen- tric. And we of the audience are just as pleased as the author with this transparent device; we love to flatter ourselves that we have the good sense _to prefer comedy to farce. Mr. AINLEy, as he proved in the more serious and sustained effort de- manded of him in The Great Adventure, is our one man for this kind of part. It was a marvel how many fresh tricks of voice and gesture he had invented to distinguish his new character from the | one in the earlier play that so nearly re- sembled it in its broader features. His personality was an irresistible delight ; but the success of the play—and he would be the first to acknowledge it— was not due to him alone; he owed much to the services of Miss CLARE Greet and Mr. FREDERICK GROVES as the lodging-house-keepers. Types of a commonplace humanity not easily diverted from its fixed orbit, they both made an admirable foil to his eccentricity, and their closely-observed realism set from the start the right key of comedy. With the character of Irene Harding neither Miss Irene Browne nor the author was quite happy. As for the actress, she never looked the part of a simplicity of her frocks gave her a false air. For the author, he put some very indifferent talk into her mouth, and constantly left her pendent in the busied himself with Mr. Arintey. One’s sympathy is naturally prepared to go out to any woman whose heart enter- a very niggardly encouragement. And, by the way, I venture to suggest that Lord Twyford of Twyford a little mis- laid his nobility when he thought it necessary to administer so much spark- ling Moselle to the lady in order to bring her to the point of accepting his hand. The unimportance of these plaints must be the measure of my apprecia- tion. I am not in a position to say starved typist; the studied artistry of | her auburn chevelure and the expensive | most embarrassing silences while he | tains a Peer unawares, but we received |

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is ed ht ng he he of he | gO r- id, | | DecEMBER 22, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Little Girl. ‘‘ Mummy, WHAT DO YOU THINK SANTA CLAUS WILL BRING ME THIS CHRISTMAS?’ Mother (anxious to economise). ‘‘OH, PERE you Do?” IAPS HE WON’T COME THIS YEAR. Little Girl. ‘I ExPECT THEY’LL PUT A WOMAN ON INSTEAD.”’ HE MAY BE AWAY AT THE WAR, AND THEN WHAT WILL in what exact proportions I should pay my gratitude to Mr. VACHELL who wrote the play, and to Mrs. BeLioc LownpEs who made the novel from which it was “ very freely” adapted ; but between the two of them they put Mr. AIntey in the way of giving me an extremely pleasant evening. O.S. “THEY ALSO SERVE...” Across the orchard you can see | from my study window the entrance | to the “Green Man.” My wife is always wanting to have trellis put up to shut out the view. “How should we ever know the time?” has been my invariable reply. You see every morning precisely at eleven o'clock William, the sexton, arrives at the entrance to the hostelry. At a quarter past twelve Mrs. William (I don’t think William possesses a sur- | name) chases him out to come to| dinner. at the Mothers’ Meeting on the ad- vantages of temperance. Once Mrs. William retaliated, “Ah, Mum, I see you know what the ’orrors of drink are in a ‘ome.” Months before London went dry in the mornings our district was scheduled dained that no licensed premises should open till twelve. The rule did not in- terfere with me who have given up the Hun lager which I drank in the happy times of peace. But I thought with horror of its effect on William. At five minutes to eleven on the first morning of the new order I was at |'my window watching for William. I wanted to see the effect of the mental shock upon him. habit of a generation ? by the Board and a stern decree or- | ing at his usual time I went across to speak to him. “This new regulation is very trying, William,” I said. “Not a bit, Sir, not a bit,” replied William cheerily. “ But you find it dull sitting here?” “Not me, Sir. I’m goin’ to show that other William that ‘owever 'e tries ’e can’t put me out o’ my regular ways. coming ‘ere at eleven o'clock and no ’Un’s goin’ to upset me.” “ But you haven’t time to get your beer.” Once it wa3 Sir, ’e can manage it. to eleven he appeared in the road and | got to do my bit—and my bit means proached the door. “Can it be possible that no one has | When I discovered William’s | warned the poor old man?” I thought. | have the blues about the War—strange |with his customary deliberation ap-|no interference with reglar ’abits and no grumblin’.” When Parliament is sitting and I admirable punctuality I utilised him |‘ What will he do when he finds that|that I never have the blues whilst to check our clocks. It became a habit in our home to say, “ You’ve plenty | of time for the train. The dining- | room clock is five minutes fast by | William.” Even my wife recognised the useful- friendly door closed ?” Parliament is in recess—I look out I expected something superb in the! for William, and his confident advent way of dramatic denunciation. To my amazement William never even tapped at the door. brightens my day. I see the determina- tion in his face, and whatever the | He placed himself!Cabinet may do I know that our on the seat at the side of the porch and! William will wear out the person ness of William, though with feminine | waited there solemnly till twelve o’clock.| he cuttingly alludes to as “the other When he arrived the following morn- | William.” ingratitude she lectured Mrs. William | Thirty-five year ’ave I been | “If a man’s got the proper spirit, | just sip, sip with me, now it’s swaller, | Could he break the| swaller; and I gets my two pints in. At ten seconds| We’re goin’ to win this War and I

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [DecemBer 22, 1915, 518 SINISTER NORGE MINUTE BY MINUTE. By Compton SomEeRSET MACKENZIE MAUGHAM. rz | MucHagw’s condition was atramental, of that there could be no doubt. Nor was he surprised to discover that, having walked due West since breakfast, which he had preferred not to eat, for the bloater had reminded him too poignantly of Lily’s favourite supper dish, he was now pointing East with a slight inclination to North, Would his search never end? He wondered vaguely how his _mother and his sister would greet him, in the improbable / event of his ever seeing them again in the fuliginous _atmosphere of Chelsea. Why had he said what he had | unquestionably said to both of them? Dulcedinous mem- _ ories crowded tumultuously into his mind. He saw himself / again at Oxford buying first editions of WaLTeR Paver, | drinking port and eating crystallized: fruit at the J. C. R.,. | making hay in a bad man’s rooms, and generally making himself as disagreeable as possible to everybody he met. Had he really been the self-conscious and conceited prig | that these memories pictured him as Being? He supposed so, and the hypothesis filled him with delight. And now _he lived with a murderer in Tosspot Street with a’ view to discovering Lily and eventually to becoming a Roman Catholic priest, after spending eight hundred pounds a year | in purchasing mansions in various parts of London. — Life _was indeed a strange mixture. proceeded with his walk. | II. | As Michael neared the Thieves’ Kitchen where he pro- posed to have his supper he became aware that someone was following him, someone whose footsteps made a curi- ous clippity - cloppity sound on the pavement. In a flash Michael realised that it must be Philip who was thus pur- suing him, and he turned round and confronted him. “Look here,” said Michael angrily, ‘why do you follow me like that? This is my beat, and I can’t allow anyone with a club foot to come dogging me as you do.” Philip blushed deeply, which was a way he had when his deformity was harshly alluded to. “By what right,” he said bitterly, “do you presume to keep me away? You’re not the only person whose thoughts and feelings matter. I know you’re looking for Lily in all the shy haunts of London. Well, I’m looking for Mildred in the same places. Shall we search together ?”’ “Tf you like,” murmured Michael, too tired to resist as he felt he ought to. “Then,” said Philip, “I will first tell you the story of my life in all its details.” “And I,” said Michael, “ will afterwards tell you the story of mine.” “ Agreed,” said Philip; “but I warn you not to be shocked. I have some dreadful things to relate ;’’ and he _ told him how he had been born club-footed ; how he had grown up and dabbled in painting in Paris without the | least success; how he had all but poisoned his uncle, who | had made a will leaving him his money ; how he had nearly starved in London and been an assistant in a dressmaker’s shop; and how he had betrayed the daughter of the friends who had rescued him from starvation and given him food and lodging in his misery. As he finished the first beams of the rising sun had begun to touch the houses with a golden glow and the furtive night-shapes were flitting back to their dens. Michael had fallen into a deep silence, though at the outset he had shown his usual tendency to interrupt. At last he aaa He shook himself and “To-morrow,” he said, “if you will meet me at the same place I will tell you my story. I too have suffered; great God, how I have suffered !’’—he brushed away his tears with a bright movement of his hand—and I find in yeu a sympathiser, in spite of the terrible fact that you are a medical student. No matter,” he added impulsively, “ we are both degenerates, and that is a great thing.” “ Yes,” said Philip, ‘it has made us what we are. You with your club-footed mind and I with my club-footed foot, we owe more than we can express to degeneracy. And now let us pursue our search.” They linked arms and moy ed, supperless but united, towards the dawn. (To be continued indefinitély elsewhere.) THE TROOPER. I’ve hollowed my back in the riding school, Broken my neck and been damned for a fool, Learnt to parry and point and guard Till my arm was lead and my wrist went dead, Wisped my fidgetting long-faced pard Till he shone with a silky shine ; Learning “ how ” in the Cav alry, The jaunty, jingling Cavalry, What rides on the right o’ the line. Now here am I like a blinded mole, Toil in a furrow and sleep in a hole Dug in a grave twelve foot by three, My strappings bust and my spurs all rust With nothing but two mud walls to see Sluiced with a driving sleet-— Me that was in the Cavalry, The saucy, swaggering Cavalry, Slogging my two flat feet! I thinks all day an’ I dreams all night Of a slap-bang, Tally-Ho open fight, One good chance on the open plain, Then knee to knee, like a wave of the sea, We'll blood our irons again and again In thundering squadron line ; We'll give ‘em a taste of the Cavalry, The only original Cavalry, And gallop ‘em over the Rhine. A Sinister Proposal. One of the contributors to a discussion on ‘The Price of Milk” in The Western Daily Press is “A Bristol East Dairyman,” who begins his letter :—‘ Sir,—Let us go to the fountain-head.”’ In The Border Counties Advertiser the Shropshire Yeomanry is asking for recruits “ height 3 ft. 3 inches and upwards.” This Bantam business is being a little bit overdone. “LIQUOR IN THE WRONG PLACE. ‘“*At the Ormskirk Sessions, to-day, a youth employed at the Bickerstaffe Collieries was fined two guineas for takin gintoxicating liquor into the mine.”—Provincial Paper. Something else besides liquor seems to have got into the wrong place. «* WanreD—Respectable and quiet home offered to parents desirous of leaving one child with good motherly lady, age 8 years upwards.”’ Statesman, Calcutta, The maternal instinct develops very early in the East.

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ited, rice Jast 0 to hire and bit the iting the irous 5 99 ~r ta. DecEeMBER 22, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 519 | We M1 Ny ne a at A lies if / x \ Ms WA L First Tommy. ‘‘ ULLO, MATE, ANY LuCK?”’ Second Ditto. ‘*No, ’2aIN’r NO BLOOMIN’ GOOD WITH Ae X\) | LL \, lj KS iif THEM BLIGHTERS DISTURBIN’ THE WATER LIKE THIS.”’ | OUR BOOKING-OFFICE, | (By Mr. Punch’s Staff of Learned Clerks.) Do you want a tonic for pessimists, and one that, as | the medical advertisements say, shall not be an evanescent stimulant, but a real food for brain and heart and nerves ? | I can think of no better description of the book to which | Mr. SrerHEeN Pacet has given the name Essays for Boys and Girls (MacmILLaN). Do not be misled by the modesty | of the Preface, in which the author says, ‘‘ This book is for | boys and girls only.” It is not. It is for us all. There is no one of us but can feel strengthened by and profoundly grateful for such essays upon the War as these. Doubt- less you know already the charm of manner that Mr. Pacer will bring to the discussion of his theme. These pages are full of it; and the effect of them, their sincerity and simplicity, and the fine spirit that they reveal, is profoundly moving. I should like to quote, but that I despair of finding any one extract that would give you an idea of the original; because there seems none of all | the perplexities and sorrows and compensations of these tremendous days upon which we might not listen with advantage to so brave and persuasive a counsellor. Perhaps the chapter to which I should most like to call your attention is that headed “A Venture of Faith.” To see the good that is working in all these horrors, and to write of it sanely and smilingly, without pose or any kind of affectation, that surely is no small thing. Read especially the passages of real beauty in which Mr. Pacer speaks of the consolation of knowing about some loved one at the Front that he is almost certainly far happier than ourselves | | who stay behind. ‘To be on active service is to be living and working, set, like a diamond in a watch, at the exact centre of a nation’s fate.” That is one of many phrases that hold my memory. As a pictorial comment on the subjects of the essays the book contains sixteen cartoons, upon which, as they come from his own pages, Mr. Punch can say nothing more than that it is pleasant for him to see them in alliance with a text of such high aim and dignified achievement. This, they tell us, is to be a Russian Christmas. And a very good kind of Christmas that is. Anyhow, the Slavonic note, already sounded in our theatres and costume-shops, has now spread to the nursery; and one of its echoes is the appearance of a volume of fairy tales, collected and trans- lated from old Russian chap-books by Mr. Ropert STEE xg, and published under the title of Lhe Russian Garland (McBripr), with a cover and six fascinating coloured pictures by Mr. J. R. De Rosciszewsxi. This is altogether as it should be. In the time that is, I trust, coming, of greater social communion with our wonderful Eastern ally, it will be pleasant for little John and Ivan to be able to share such jolly memories, as for example how Lyvbim was befriended by the wolf, or how the horse of Prince Astratch flew over hills and towns. The odd thing is, however, the extent to which this volume reveals the tales of fairydom as already the common property of child- hood. Here is a self-playing harp, a duck that lays golden eggs, and many other friends of our youth. Only the setting is different ; but it is this that will provide a splendid new thrill for the special and very critical audience to whom

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| caricature that nurseries most appreciate.

520 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL [December 22, 1915,

the book is addressed. Mr. Rosciszewskt has caught the atmosphere of barbaric pearls and gold to a nicety. His pictures, of which one recording the equestrian feat of Prince Astratch is a long way my favourite, are vivid, bright-coloured, and dramatic, with just that touch of I hope there | may be many in which The Russian Garland will this year

| find a place amongst their other seasonable decorations.

Mr. A. C. Bznson’s latest volume, Hscape, and Other Essays (SmitH, Exper) may be briefly described as a double-barrelled apology—in the text, for the existence of its dream-loving author in a world of affairs; in the preface, for its own peaceful presence in the time of war. The argument, convincing enough it seems to me, is pretty much | the same in each case, namely, that a civilisation which in! the stress of ordinary business ————— —— has need of the artist and poet =e 6 should, even when in 6 QvER_H sion, still find room for the emi Tim . <Fi TT ys hopes and ideals of peace. §)) (3/52 lif Anything more different from | pe ge | = a military despatch than pean | is pages can hardly be imagined,) -'| NY and in spite of the high, ~ (Ye courage involved in the public) - \ef Z declaration, in his essay cn “ Authorship,” that he never | refuses to give an opinion on, | the unpublished MSS. of re- | cognised genius, I fail to pic- ture anyone less pugnacious = than the author would have himself appear in his deli- berate, not to say complacent, self-revelation. Here you will find nothing more unrestful than a little mild telepathy | and spiritism, a good deal of | admirable if not particularly novel analysis, and quite a, ~~ notable exposition of the! author’s own personality, all expressed in language that has purity and charm and, in its lower rather than its more unscalable heights, recalls at any rate the less vigorous half — = of the Ruskin to whom the writer owes so much. Of the individual essays I think I like “Walt Whitman,” “Titerature and Life” and “School-days”’ as well as any ; GFen,- _—

but honestly it is not so much what he says as the way | he says it that counts. The Extra Day (MAcmiLuAN) is one of Mr. ALGrrNon Briackwoop’s now famous mystery tales, duly diluted for children; and if the mystical child survives into this day of jangling telephones, mechanical toys and general sophis- tication there should be a happy audience for these topsy- turvy adventures of Tim, Judy and Maria, Uncle Felix and, The Tramp, and the extra day that came to them between Saturday and Sunday, when the clocks were stopped and they went out on the great quest. Mr. Buackwoop puts into his book besides that old, uncanny sense of doom and purpose behind the dark inanimate things, all the bright things too: birds and butterflies, flowers and shining clouds, and all very pleasantly and affectionately. If I never quite found out what the quest was, that is because I am really no genuine blackwoodsman. A willow by the

THE SADDEST SIGHT OF THE WAR. A GERMAN PROFESSOR WHO HAS MISLAID HIS BEER Ticket. | river’s brim is to me just a willow, and not a sinister sentient being who for tuppence will strangle me with sinuous

| | arms if I decide to camp on its island without its per- | inission. Of course that is all due to the deplorable lack of faith that comes to disillusioned middle-age, and naturally | it is hateful to have driven into one this conviction of sin. The fact is I was distinctly annoyed with Uncle Felix for taking Judy, Tim and Maria, who were simply the nicest imaginable children, out of their charming daily life and drawing them away over the border. I wish Mr. Buack- woop would bottle his bogey for once and let us have such an intimate and humorous account of lovable simple things and folk as he gives us in his first few chapters, which couldn’t be better done. In these days, when the facts of war are daily under oyr eyes, the novelist who chooses. ja fighting theme cannot well ‘complain if a super-excellent SS standard of merit is demanded of him. Mr. L. Corr Cory- == FORD, when judged by such a standard, passes—but with-

High Admiral (W1LLIAMs AND NorGate). He passes because he is the happy possessor both of style and of a real know- ledge of his subject, but he cause his hold upon our mind and our emotions is not suffi- ciently clinching. If, however, jhe is to be judged by a less exacting standard I grant him ,worthy of your attention, and indeed, if only |for his stories that have noth- gratitude. Possibly you are already acquainted with some of these tales, for I see not mind reading again “ The Almoner” and “The Photo- : | | | out distinetion—in The Lord | fails to reach distinction be- | immediate | ing whatever to do with fight- | ing, he has a claim upon our | “acknowledgments” duly re- | corded; but even so you will | graph’’—the gems of this_ collection. They prove that, with his gifted imagination, Mr. Cornrorp might easily afford to leave war-fiction to those writers for whom the obvious is an irresistible lure.

What our Nurses have to Suffer. **No hospital ship has carried other than sick and wounded, | nurses, medical staff, and medical stores. painted as required by the Geneva Convention.’”’-—The Red Cross. Is that how our nurses always manage to look as fresh as paint? We don’t believe it. sent to your comrade, and -—-— Tobacco Fund will send a shilling parcel of smokes to a lonely Prisoner of War in Germany for every 12/- reccived.’’ We suppose this is all right, but as it stands we cannot get away from the suggestion that the Prisoner of War will not receive all he ought to get.

‘* Chick, indeed, is the neckwear counter.’’— Dundee Advertiser. This must be the feather-boas department.

‘**For each shilling subscribed for this purpose a 1/- parcel will be | | All are permanently |

Page 555

915, |

ntient | MUOUS | Ss per- e lack urally | of sin, ‘iwc for nicest e and | LACK- | > such | things | which | er our 1008ses" t well -ellent anded Corn- uch ‘a with- Lord | S$ AND cause r both <now- ut he n be- | mind suffi- vever, | a less t him ediate | only | noth- | fight- n our | u are some see ly re- | 1 will | “The | ‘hoto- this | ation, on to are. nded, nently | $8. | sh as | | vill be | billing every ynnot War

|

DreceMBER 29, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 521

CHARIVARIA. Wirn a refinement of cruelty the British Government has_ prohibited | the exportation of sausage-skins to Germany. A shop in Berlin is now doing an increasing trade in sausages made of dog—with the bark left on. A eulogy of Sir Jonny Frencu in The Daily Graphic, after enumerating his other achievements, laid special stress on “the dogged manner in which he has pinned the Germans on his front.” And a jolly stiff front, too. There is happily no truth in | the reports that British sub- marines in the Baltic have been blocked in by the ice. It is the, enemy’s fleet that is kept in cold storage. — A notice set up by Germans in a Belgian village runs as follows :—‘‘ Au erépuscule cha- cun est tenu de rentrer en lui- méme. Les habitants doivent respecter les troupes passantes | et les singuliers soldats alle- mands.” And the Belgians are | strictly forbidden to laugh at | these posters. , .. *

A Berlin correspondent writ- ing to The New York Times believes that the relations be- tween Germany and the United States would rapidly improve ‘if it were proposed to lift the exchange of thought between | Germany and the United States | suddenly to a higher super- | diplomatic plane.” It is thought that Count ZEPPELIN will shortly be appointed as German Am- bassadorat Washington, as being the only man capable of rising to the required altitude. “ Romance of the Banana: Value of Publicity,” says a headline. The man in the street is more familiar with its makes them so poignant. In a criticism of British generalship Major Moraut, the German military expert, accuses our commanders of, indicate Germany’s straits than the) - | A Record Time. lacking imagination, and observes that “The Muses have for the most part been godfathers to the great generals and imbued them with the priceless gift of seeing, feeling and imagining with almost superhuman power.” lacking in literary gifts, let him observe that Mr. TENNANT put forward as an explanation of the delay in the publi-

VOL. CXLIX. Lest | he should think that our Generals are |

cation of the Suvla Bay despatches the fact that Sir Ian HamInTon was a writer of great distinction who took time to polish his periods. Mr. Srernen Granam says that the music you hear in Russian churches robs you of the sense of time. The same remark applies to a good deal of the music you hear in British variety houses. e* A full list of President Wutson’s | | wedding - presents has not yet been first-class hotels you could get a very passable Christmas dinner for £1 a head, while in one or two the charge was no more than 10s.6d. Wines and cigars were, of course, extra. * Professor MuNsTERBERG, the chor- |

agus of the hyphenated Americans, | professes to believe that it would have | been a good thing for Germany if Mr. Roosevett had been President in ,1914, on the ground that he would have built a dam against the flood of lies which inundate the country. Are

|dammed lies any better than the ordinary kind ? Me * x modestly likened them to used tea-leaves, only available to should come in handy when we | . . wipe the floor with the enemy. * % A Government office recently received a letter in which the writer, who was making an in- scribed himself ‘Her obedient

YS SSS

Stes SS See

CHRISTMAS MORNING WITH THE CROWN PRINCE. ‘‘T wish FATHER WOULDN’T PUT IRON CROSSES IN MY SOCKS. ” | husband.” The correspondent thinks it necessary to add, “This | is a fact.”” But who doubts it ? | A Lincolnshire paper the | other day said that Earl De La | Warr had been succeeded by | his only son, “ Lord Buckarest.” | Everyone seems to be obsessed by the Balkan problem. The old lady who saw an ad- vertisement beginning “ Fish for your friends at the Front,” is afraid that the trenches must be wetter than ever, and won- jane if one ought to use a net

| published, but it is believed that among them were several packets of note- paper. It is quite untrue, however, his own use the motto: Bella gerant jalii; tu, felix Austria, nube. * Nothing perhaps could more forcibly ‘appeal that was made by Deputy _Gamp in the recent Reichstag debate for an increase in the bread-ration. His illustrious prototype never worried ‘about a shortage of food. } set by the Government and the House of Commons, the severest economy is Thanks, no doubt, to the example | or a rod.

A New Conjuring Trick.

= * ‘ Declining a suggestion that he should republish his war- | speeches, Lord RosEBery has | sweep the floor with. But they | | quiry on behalf of his wife, sub- | | who sends us this information | . aa’ a se ‘«Then she thrust the envelope into the low- | tragedies, and it is the publicity that} that the Presmpent has adapted for | necked bosom of her dress, conjured up a flush, | and gave it a push that caused it to vanish completely from sight.’’—Evening Paper. ' Many a poker-player would like to know the recipe for conjuring up a flush. ‘We have had several visits from German Taubs, and I don’t like them. I never thought | I could run as fast before, for I can do the | half-hour in ten minutes.’’—Falkirk Herald.

Our Spartan Women. ‘*For another reason, that of providing a mental tonic, many girls are giving small | dances, quite alfresco affairs.’’ | Evening Paper.

being practised in London. At several DD

Page 556

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [December 29, 1915. THE BITTER CRY FOR BUTTER. [The Katser’s edict forbidding all celebration of Christmas has served to increase the despondency caused by the lamentable shortage of butter, without which the life of a German woman is not regarded as worth living.] THE dying year goes out in gloom; In vain the sodden bunting flaps; In vain the Potsdam pedlars boom Their novel line in Balkan maps; Bare is the festal tree, and still The breath of music, brass or oaten— All joyance, by the War-Lord’s will, Being verboten. And, where beneath her limes Berlin Moves silent as a dumb golosh, What is this wail that chokes within The bosom of the female Bosch ? What is this sense of something lost Which, when they meet in solemn batches, Makes an unmitigated frost Of Kaffeeklatsches. Is it by any chance a case . Of husband, brother, lover, son, Far from his womankind’s embrace Doing his duty as a Hun? Is it the absent strafer’s kiss On whose account this plaint they utter? No, ’tis a dearer loss—they miss Their slabs of butter. O Teuton Fraus are brave, no doubt, And at a pinch would stand to arms, But simply cannot do without The fatty source of half their charms; Withhold the product of the churn, You take from life its leading savour, Those podgy waists by which they earn Their warriors’ favour. Some day the nation’s nerve may crack (So straws will break a camel’s hump) Through local riots due to lack Of means to keep its women plump; I think it may; my hopes are high That Wini1am’s world-compelling flutter Shall yet be dislocated by A dearth of butter. O. 8. Journalistic Modesty. ‘«The Neanderthal man, we know, rude as he was, made fires, and has left indications that he had reasons to suppose his relatives continued beyond the grave. His brain case, though not like ours, was quite capacious.’’—Daily News. The Lady-Killer. From a description of the hero in a recently-published novel :— ‘‘He had lived in the world for 40 years . . . Beautiful women had turned to gall on his tongue, shrunken to their skeletons in his Weary eyes.” From a report of Lord RosEBEry’s speech :— ‘‘So long as westuck together . . . there was no danger capable of happening which we could not confront.’’ Edinburgh Evening Dispatch. The printer, at any rate, has set a good example. ‘*« Lost, a German Sheep Dog, wearing a new collar with no address- Shaped like a collie, with shorter hair; head like a wolf. Scared left hind leg.’’ That, no doubt, is the German part of him. UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER. No. XXXII. (From Mr. Bensamin TILveEtT.) Katser,—You don’t seem to understand the people of this country—if you had understood them I daresay you wouldn’t have got yourself into the fix you ’re in—but any- how I'll tell you a little story of what happened to me, and then perhaps you ’ll begin to see light, as the parson says. It was a year or two back and a nasty rainy day, and I was travelling inside a *bus. The conductor was a very uppish young fellow—got a swelled head, no doubt, from being put‘in what they call a position of authority—and as he came into the bus to take the fares he trod on my foot. I’m a little delicate about that foot and we got into a bit of an argument. He seemed to think it was his foot, and I knew it was mine, and there was quite a pretty lot of back-talk flying about, when at last he ups ang says, “Who are you, anyhow?” he says, “and what your blooming name?” I says, “ My name’s nothing to you, but if you want it you shall have it. Brn Tinterr’s my name, and very much at your service, my young corn- smasher.” Just as I said this a tall thin lady who was sitting in the ’bus gave a shriek and got up to leave. “ Anything I can do for you, Ma’am?” I says; but she gave me a regular witherer and sort of fixed me to the floor. “Unhand me,” she says—I hadn’t laid a finger- joint on her—“unhand me. I can’t sit in a ’bus with a firebrand. We shall all be murdered in our beds;” and with that she stepped it in double-quick time. I never laughed so much in my life, and the conductor was struck all of a heap. That shows you what feelings were not so very long ago. We were all scrapping with one another and forgetting we were human beings at the bottom of it all. But now, Lord bless you, we’re singing a very different tune. Why, I’d engage to let an Earl, ah, or a Duke either, tread on my best corn so long as he was dressed in khaki or I knew he was doing his bit for the War, like the rest of us. And as for the tall thin lady if I’m not mistaken I saw her in the front row at one of the meetings I addressed the other day, and she was cheering like mad, and afterwards she came up and shook me by the hand very warmly, and she says, “ Mr. TILLETT, you’ve said what wanted saying about the Kaiser and the Germans, and you make me proud to be an Englishwoman. It’s liberty we’re fighting for, and we're all prepared to die rather than submit to a bloated tyrant.” There you are, you see. War’s a beastly thing—there’s no getting out of that—but it’s made us one people. I’ve seen how the soldiers are carrying on in the trenches, and I’ve seen what we’re doing at home in England, and I tell you straight your game’s up; you can’t win the War. And it’s no good trying to think of stopping it just yet. We haven’t yet got our teeth far enough into your throat ; but there’s a good time coming, and when it comes you'll know it and no mistake. So I send you the compliments of the season and hope you won’t deceive yourself any more. We’re not cherish- ing any illusions, as the saying is. We know what the Prussian is; we’ve seen him at work on land and sea, and we’ve made up our minds to send him back to the place where he belongs. Good-bye and bad luck to you. Yours cheerfully, Ben Tivvert. Precocity. ‘The Incubators are seen in full working order, with the babies in charge of the staff of St. Mary’s Hospital.’’

Page 557

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Decemser 29, 1915, | — — { an "api —* - ~~ ) of : yu — = 7- = s: 1d v= hltte, = Sx ;, \ \ \ === : AW = — ry _ = ~ ——=S=— ed m a — es id —— > Ly SS to ee »t, ‘ an t £3 _ nial “1 % —— ur Yj === u, “ SH Oscar ly ¢ 7, n- -/ ge aS Z _ we } | | ‘Cis se 1€ = r- ; \ a = a ] Vi rd : Z Ar er ; Ce ok | | = \ eae ; so ! | Yi ~ = | ao = ee ooo a ea —_——s = ——2 ous WY — NN an Wa i" .y) 7 2 ' See 4 oe. S— \ al \\ My - 4 —~ Oo = = 5 ae \\ \ ‘ Z fr" & NK mi tee thes Va, 4 “ _ = t iit T \ he ; ¥ ———— | — =. SWEEPING THE NORTH SEA. ies — : — LOAVE | = Cuorus oF German Apmirats. “STILL NO SIGN OF THE BRITISH SKULKERS!”

Page 558

524 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. {[DecEMBER 29, 1915. THE WATCH DOGS. XXXII. My pear CuHartes,—Great excite- /ment prevails. A number of unex- ploded shells have arrived, and at present lie in the Camp Commandant’s Office. Somebody has insisted on knowing what’s inside them, adding, in a chatty sort of way, that “all you have to do is to knock the tops off and use your common sense.” Ah, yes; but who’s “you”? The Chemical Adviser has demonstrated very lucidly that it isn’t the Chemical Adviser. He is quite ready to do his part, he says, which is the latter part. Who is going to do the first part? Ordnance, usually very jealous of its privileges, is not assertive on this occasion. The Quarter- master branch is, for once, modest and retiring. Intelligence is being peculi- arly intelligent and is sitting tight; Operations isn’t for operating, and the O.C. Sanitary Section is thanking Heaven he isn’t a real soldier. It looks to me as if the Camp Commandant is about to open yet another branch of his flourishing business. At any rate we have sent him a chit, entitled ‘“Shell-opening for Beginners: by one who has managed to avoid doing it.” The salient paragraph runs: “To re- move lid: puncture by sharp blow with dull instrument. If necessary, prize open forcibly with chisel inserted under band.” You have heard it said, no doubt, that battles would be good sport if it wasn’t for the shells, and you ‘ve heard it added that even the shells are less trying than the telegraphic messages on minor matters which arrive at all hours of the day and night to compli- cate trench life. Thus, an ill-informed French civilian applied for the recovery of a packet of letters from an upstairs room of his deserted house. Notwith- standing the fact that the site of the mansion was in the first line trenches, the matter passed safely through all the preliminary stages of transmission. The inquiry, as it reached the trenches, was not happily worded. After referring in minute detail to the position in the house of the upstairs room, the position in the upstairs room of the cupboard, the position in the cupboard of the little green box, and the position in the little green box of the bundle of letters, it concluded with the ingenuous question: “Is the house standing still?” The reply arrived with unusual speed. “Most of the house,” it ran, “has removed, but that part which is still standing is standing still.” Again, a unit, having with some tact and address secured a German soldier from over the way, extracted from him the information that lots more would come over with a little encourage- ment. Forthwith the unit was asked somewhat curtly to state if any steps had been taken to encourage same, and, if so, what? With all the respect and submission which could possibly be packed into a telegram, the Company Commander concerned begged to report that ‘‘he had procured a gross (144) native sausages and had suspended them on the barbs of the barbed wire. Favourable winds awaited.” Lastly, there was some to-do further behind the lines about the nocturnal visits of an aeroplane, of which the dut -dut-dut-dut-dut was distinctly heard, and of which the conduct was rendered all the more suspicious by the fact that nothing ever seemed to come of it. The matter was ordered to be inquired into; a patrol, suitably armed, was demanded for all-night watching from the local battalion at (alleged) rest. They went out, and the first thing in the morning their report was re- ceived. There could be no doubt about the truth of the allegations; the dut- dut-duts were indubitable. That they were produced by an aeroplane was also beyond question; the unmistakable sound had been heard of its horn being blown as it went round the corners. It is the habit of people when hostile aeroplanes are seen hovering to say to each other, ‘‘ Now I do hope there isn’t going to be any _ unpleasantness.” Talking of which I might as well tell you of the local frightfulness in which Iam at this moment involved. I re- turned this evening to headquarters to find a hubbub in progress. One of the Greatest Ones is scheduled to deliver a technical lecture, and all the less great ones are scheduled to listen. Most of them have run into one part or another of my motor bicycle, and I do not begin my share in this story with any large margin of popularity. Eventually I find myself in the office. Three tele- phones start ringing at the same time; three magnates proceed to detail three totally different programmes of what is to happen to the lecturer when he}. . arrives. The telephones have just been got to lie down and keep quiet for a bit, when he himself blows in. Having had a judicious mixture of the three pro- grammes put to him by me, he invents a fourth, to which he gives first place, and leaves me to settle things up with the other candidates. Meanwhile he thinks he’d like me for a guide. I am just starting out when two of the telephones, growing begin ringing violently. The obvious course is for him to silence one while I soothe the other; instead of which I deal with both and at the same time suspicious, | maintain my conversation with him very deferentially as becomes a subal- tern. No. 1 telephone wants to know, Sir, whether it would be convenient for me, Sir, if it came round to see me, Sir, and, if so, at what time, Sir? Being informed as to who I am, it changes its tone and says it’s coming round at once, and if I am not there to meet it I’m finished. No. 2 telephone refers to my X.Y.Z. 1 and its A.B.C. 2, and my X.Y.Z. 3, and asks me if I mean anything by my last, and if so, what? It must know at once and will hold on while I find out. Meanwhile my dis- tinguished guest is getting fidgety, not finding my remarks at all enlightening. So we leave No. 2 grimly holdifg on, pretend not to notice that No. 3 is waking up, and go outside to find that his motor, with his chauffeur and all that is his, has disappeared into the void. Thither I follow it, alone, realizing as I go, with a cold sinking feeling, the picture of the three magnates expecting three totally different pro- grammes to function. When I find the car the chauffeur is, of course, absentee. When I find the chauffeur and the car and get the two back to where I left the owner, he, of course, is gone. Not daring to go back into the office for fear of telephone bells, I get hold of a sentry, armed with a rifle and 150 rounds of ball ammunition, and set him to mount guard over the chauffeur and the car and to take immediate action if either of them tries to escape. I then retire apart and evolve in my own mind a fifth programme, on the basis of what any humanly constituted man would have done, if there hadn’t been so much arranging. Finally (to omit for your sake many further harassing details) I return to find that a sixth programme, cancelling all previous programmes, has come into force, the exact details of which are, I gather, SECRET. For the present I am left in undis- puted possession of a large motor car and a small chauffeur. For the future . who knows? Meanwhile there are others greater than myself to answer the telephones. At this mo- ment, as I write, one of these terrors has started ringing again. The Major, who’s talking to it at this end, isn’t best pleased when the fact comes out that the man at the other erd is an- other mere lieutenant, who only wants to have a little friendly chat with me. The chat, conducted in public, was not so friendly as all that. He wanted to know if there was any chance of ever seeing me again. ‘Damn all,” I replied, and rang off. Yours ever, HENRY.

Page 559

Se et SP er UG ow” -_ SO a le _ DeceMBER 29, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL Tommy (on his way back from the trenches—to General’s chauffeur). ‘* TAKE ’ER 'OME, CHAWLES. WE’RE WALKIN’.”’ FERGUSON. Ferguson has just returned to us from an enjoyable holiday spent in | what I am constrained to refer to as “a fortress” situated somewhere con- tiguous to the Eastern Counties of England. Already, exact details of his imaginary adventures have begun to snowball their mendacious course through the village. I have no scruple about repeating them, for I know Ferguson to be a satirist and suspect him of being a Scot. We have a local witticism to the effect that teaching a duck to quack is labour “dra’d away in vain.” From what I know and don’t know about Ferguson I feel that ingenuity spent in connecting his reputation with the desultory expenditure of very occasional sixpences is also labour dra’d away in vain. Put in another way, and one perhaps better suited to the require- ments of the superficial reader, I con- | tend that something over ninety-nine | per cent. of the girds at Ferguson are composed by their alleged victim and circulated solely to afford him the peculiarly Caledonian amusement of laughing at us laughing at him being laughed at by someone else. I hope you follow. There is the account of Ferguson | in Ferguson’s eyes, beads of perspira- obtaining lodgings. With some little; tion on his brow, as he spoke of trouble he discovered a small room|the long-drawn agony of witnessing right at the top of a house kept by a/ the performance. Misled—heaven help very worthy person of marked religious | him!—-by a specious title, he had tendencies. As the house itself stood almost within the shadow of one of | our most sacred and irreplaceable public | buildings, the situation had, as the good lady readily admitted, some slight | disadvantage just at that period. People were not really nervous, she hastened to add, but they all seemed to prefer the basement to the attics. Ferguson gravely assented—even enlarged a little on the drawback—but suggested that a thrifty and verra courageous man might face the risk at a materially | At the end of the first Ferguson made | reduced rent. Terms were agreed upon. | Then, and not till then, did it come} out that the modest fellow, combin- ing patriotism with pleasure, and at the same time covering all his holiday expenses, had been taken on as a short nightly relief at a convenient munition factory. His hours for sleep would be from 3 A.M. to 10. This is mere bludgeoning. | thought to witness a really serious play, and it turned out to be a con- fection of the lightest and most frivolous description. Not to censure too heavily in the light of what fol- lows, it must be understood that Fer- guson, himself a highly moral man, considered that he had been defrauded by false pretences. It was a matinée performance, I gathered, and there were three Acts. his way to the gallery pay-box and offered, as a great bargain, to com- pound for the remainder of the enter- tainment by the return of fivepence. This offer, it appears, was declined. “ But ’— Ferguson’s vigorous tone dropped almost to a melancholy tender- ness—‘ aa got even wi’ them after a’.” “ How?” “Aa went back and leestened to a’ the rapier-like malice of the theatrical|in the dark aa just slippit under the experience. At which theatre it took} seat and, after bidin’ there a wee place nothing short of a strictly legal| bit hour or twa, aa come oot unpair- indemnity against any action for dam-|ceeved and saw it a’ over again for ages could drag from me. s . neem — Tears stood | naething.” I prefer | the fulishness recht to the end. Then |

Page 560

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [December 29, 1915, ANTI-AIRCRAFT. THE Mess waiter knocked at the door and came in. “Come in,” I said. “ Letters, Sir.” “Ah!” I held out my hand. A minute later I wakened Henry up. ‘Good morning. Letters,” I said tersely. “Go away.” “ Letters for you.” “Go away.” “One in a lady’s handwriting.” Henry sat up in bed; he opened the letter and scanned it through. were spent in the composition of this letter, which I think is perhaps worth reproduction :— “ The A.A. Detachment, 3rd South Wessex, Rock Hill. “To twelve (12) British boys, wishing them a Happy Christmas and hoping they will soon get abroad, from a few others similarly situated.” I was quite satisfied with this, quite satisfied, and yet Henry wanted to spoil the whole thing by sending an orderly for the food and tobacco and distributing it there and then. | mad. I addressed it to the O.C., A.A. Detachment, 3rd South Wessex, Rock Hill, and called for the Mess waiter. “You can’t give it him to post,” Henry objected; “if he sees the address he ’ll think we’re mad.” “ Henry,” I said, “need I remind you a soldier never thinks? He obeys.” I was the author of the businéss, and naturally I was the one to receive the blame, but, as I pointed out, Henry being the senior, I was, anyhow, the only one who could be blamed. The Mess waiter had not thought us He had merely thought we had “Well,” he said, “this is good. Listen. ‘Drar Srr,—lI am endeavouring to collect funds for Xmas gifts for our brave troops abroad. May I solicit your help?’ There’s a whole lot more,’ he added. “That’s all very well,” I said ; “but I am endeavouring to collect funds for my _ brave tailor.” “Surely,” Henry suggested, ““we ourselves come under the heading of brave troops. At any rate it’s hardly our respor- sibility.” “And yet it is,” I objected. “T feel we ought to do some- thing. In fact, I’m going to do something. We'll make up a parcel for them.” “T’d rather do something for our own men.” “Precisely,” I agreed. “That’s just where the parcel’s going to, or rather coming to. It’s for this detachment.” Henry smoothed his pillow. “T leave it to you,” he mur- mured, ‘Good night.” \\ * SSS ann BAD L “| kw TT" or apy Hal Ali Baba (of Touring Pantomime). ‘‘ SHOVE THE GOLD IN THE VAN, JOE, AND ASK THE DOORKEEPER TO LEND ME THREEPENCE.”’ — o ee, / 4 ‘ 4 rs. ‘ a. €é made a mistake, and that the parcel was“Sintended for the other 3rd South Wessex A.A.’s at Hill Grove. ; So he altered the address. Technically this is known as initiative. I forget what I called it. Seasonable Presents. **Chilblains and Broken Skin, 4d. and 7d., by post.’ North Eastern Daily Gazette. ‘* He applied for a commission be- fore the war started under Mr. Churchill’s scheme.” Yorkshire Evening News. Major CHURCHILL’s responsi- bility is evidently greater than we thought. ‘‘There are many ways of cooking old hens. They may be boiled very slowly foras many hours as they are cld.’’—Farmer and Stockbreeder. Begin at once, and be sure of a good dinner after the War. From the report of a recruit- ing meeting :— ao x as Personally I was rather pleased with the idea. Christmas on detachment with Henry and twelve men, or, to put it officially, Christmas with one officer and twelve other ranks, promised to be a matter of doubtful festivity. There would be letters of sympathy ; there would be parcels; there would be a football match, officers and N.C.O.s v. men, the officers’ team borrowing two or three men from the other side. The Corporal would arrange for him- self and the older gunners to be off watch on Christmas night; also I found it would be Henry’s night on. Nevertheless I felt there would be something lacking. I was convinced that a parcel of food, tobacco and cigar- ettes, including a box of cigars for the officers, would help enormously. I had another happy idea: a letter of good wishes. Some two night watches He had several objections to make. “They ought to know the parcel comes from us,” he said. “I don’t want them to think i “They shall know,” I assured him. “Then, good heavens, man, they mustn’t see that—-er—composition. What about discipline?” “ They needn't see it ; the parcel will be addressed to you.” “What are you going to do with the letter then ?”’ “Frame it,” I said rather shortly. Henry didn’t seem to be entering into the spirit of the thing. However, I was determined to see the matter through. I spent a whole afternoon’s leave and two days’ pay and arrived back laden and triumphant. Henry by this time had changed his opinion and on the morning of Christ- mas Eve together we madethe parcel up. ‘«The Mayor of Kilkenny associated himself and his constituents with the resolution, and said so far Kilkenny had done its hare and would continue to do it.’’ Waterford Evening News. Obviously a misprint for hair. We are glad that Kilkenny’s cats are keep- ing their fur on in war-time. ‘*A submerged dialect is now being towed into Milford Haven.”—Shipping News. No doubt the jettisoned property of a naturalised Englishman whose speech bewrayed him. From a recent notice of a “ tone- poem ” :— ‘*The picture of ‘The Gallows’ with the creaking caused by the body- is wonderfully graphic.”—Morning Paper. Evidently a picture that jumps to the ears.

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December 29, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 527 {UMS IAI Mba sth fy 74! RESPECT FOR THE CLOTH. | Ht fi KRY Bah RH TAKING us altogether we are a serious | aU AKAD Mess. As a whole at table we are not demonstrative. Groups of young subal- | terns in obscure corners do, it is true, | abandon themselves to occasional bursts | of hilarity; and where the great ones | sit there are quite audible sounds of | respectful laughter when the P.M.C. or the C.O. is in exceptionally good form. | But ordinarily we do not express our- | selves as a body. | To-night there was an exception. | When the bugle sounded “ Oflicers’ wives have puddings and pives”’ and | we filed into the long hut, there were | As exclamations of delighted astonishment | 4 x which grew rapidly into a tumult of| @ applause. There were clean table- cloths. That sounds rather as though we have been accustomed to pigging it; but it isn’t so. The fact is that a recent moving of camps has landed us many miles from the nearest laundry, and the linen which should have been on our tables has been elsewhere. For two or three days one may pass such matters by unobserved. But) gradually we began to take notice. We began to recognise spots and stains, and at first there was a certain excite- ment about speculating as to their origin. We began to see in them a kind of diary of past meals. We re- called, almost with a smack of the lips, the roast-pork of Tuesday’s dinner; we found traces of the chutney which had been eaten with the curry of Thursday’s lunch; there were marks of the efforts i of a certain O.C. Company—a sturdy A Coals alt eater—to draw his full fourteen-cunce ration from a bony segment of loin of mutton. It was the sic ibat Simois Shop Assistant (to — — IN — brooches). «*H 4 : eS ; shop Assistant (to Tommy who has asked to see some silver name-brooches). ‘‘ Herne you sort of thing, and we were getting to ARE. TAKE YOUR CHOICE. EtrHEeL, Maup, Guapys, Peart, Dotity—any OF THESE?”’ H he old cloth for iation’s sak love the asso at ort sake, Tommy. *‘Yes, ALL THOSE BUT GLADYs. AND I’LL HAVE POLLY AND ALICE 100, and to look forward to seeing it again] y, you’vn cor ’EM.” ‘ at every meal. You must understand that in the | undistinguished blur to obscure or oblit-' determined to find out exactly who circumstances in which we are placed | erate one with a history. Officers who were the people who upset things. such things may occur. The spirit of|are really quite tidy eaters began to’ Even the most fastidious ones were active service is over everything.|get other reputations. “Steady on,” nervous. You see there was no chance Somehow it is easier than it would be! we would say, “ with that gravy. Just of accusing anyone else. The target in times of peace for your bottle to|look what you’ve done!” And replies. was too clean and the range too short. mark its standing-place with a wet) would come bristling with accusations | A happy accident, as I said, saved the ring. When there is little luck any- | of somebody else. meal from being a dismal tragedy of where it is not noticeably unlucky to} Thus little by little our meals came | suspicious glances and painful rigidity. spill salt ; and if salt may fall why not|to be eaten in an atmosphere which | Suddenly into the silence that reigned mustard ? seemed to be charged with acrimony.|burst a brief exclamation. It came But, as time went on, stain merged | There was what you would call a pent- | from the padre, a man never known to into stain until the whole threatened | up, tense sort of feeling. And you can| use a word of one syllable if a word of to blend into one uninspiring neutral easily understand why, shaken from | three would do. All eyes turned in his tint. It was at this point that con-! our reserve, we burst into applause at’ direction, and we saw him trying with tentions arose. Born of regret atthe sight of the clean table-linen. a fork to recapture from the cloth the losing old landmarks, so to say, there! But the reaction was brief, and it|/contents of the Worcestershire Sauce sprang up a feeling of antagonism to-! was only a happy accident that restored | bottle. wards their destroyers—those Goths/us tothe normal. After the applause| It was the last bottle, but no one who recklessly allowed some new and | had subsided, everyone settled down] minded that. “1G1S).

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528 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL [DEcEMBER 29, 1915. ““CUT THE CACKLE...” THE PHRASE AND ITs MAKER. Arter a recent visit to the House of Commons—the second time only that I had listened to that assembly at work—I have come again to the con- clusion that few of the sententix of the world have more virtue than old ASTLEY’s growled command to his stage manager, “Cut the cackle and come to the ’osses.” There is hardly a moment of the day when this rule of life could not profitably be remembered. Every child should work it on a sampler and read it on its mug; copy-books should prefer it to the usual run of more arguable maxims ; patriotic pluto- crats should pay for its insertion at the top of The Times’ personal column ; and wherever there is an empty space on hoarding or wall, in omnibuses or tubes, it should be emblazoned in letters of gold. In all French railway carriages to-day the passengers are warned by Government placards to be silent and suspicious, for the ears of the enemy are everywhere ; so that “ Taiséz-vous ! méfiez-vous” has. become a catch- phrase in that country where catch- phrases have ever prospered. AsTLEY’s immortal sentence should be equally popular here, for never was the recog- nition of its importance more necessary. Entertaining such feelings as these with regard to the dictum, I natu- rally wished to know more of the man who gave it life, so I have been inquiring into Partie AsTLEy’s career. To Newcastle-under-Lyme belongs the honour of his birth, in 1742, his father being a cabinet-maker there. At the age, however, of seventeen (which would horrify some of our head-masters, however much it pleased others,) the boy turned his back on chisel and plane and enlisted in General Exuiort’s Light Horse, became remarkable as a rough-rider and breaker-in, and so dis- tinguished himself at the battles of Ensdorf and Friedberg that his Gen- eral presented him with a favourite charger. With this noble companion, known as the Spanish Horse, AstLEy toured England, to exhibit the tricks that he had taught him, which com- prised unsaddling himself, washing his feet, removing a boiling kettle from a flaming fire, and impersonating a waiter at a tavern. Never had a man a better friend. The Spanish Horse (to anticipate a little) remained in AsTLEY’s service for forty-two years, and, on passing to ASTLEY’s successor at the Royal Amphitheatre, was care- fully tended, two quartern loaves a day being provided for a toothless mouth that could no longer manage corn ; and when death at last came, his hide (in order to perpetuate his memory) was | name throughout England became tanned and made into a thunder drum | synonymous with whatever was most for the prompt side of the theatre. |daring and exciting in horsemanship. From touring AstLey turned to cir-| Not only the best showman, but the cus and theatre management in London, | best horse-tamer of his time, he never and, with various ups and downs of for- _gave more than five pounds for a horse, tune, he continued in this business to the | nor did he care what colour, shape or end, both in London and Paris, though | make it was: temper was his only con- on the breaking out of the French Rev- | sideration. But when he had done — he again joined the pe ee | with the horse fifty pounds probably the Duke of York, and not only fought | could not buy it. but was invaluable as a horse-transport| A ochdaaniaien account of the great officer. He behaved also in a way that} man by one of his company, which I marks him out especially asa forerunner | have already quoted im, calls him of present-day methods, for he was| ‘very facetious and liberal.” It adds thonghtful as to supplies of clothing | that “he was obstinate at times and and other comforts to the troops. In| would not give up his opinion to anyone, Paihia Sv WR fads eomilay x Sovk| Ee Suk laced Ea se many, onto with him a very large strong chest, | crats) to be a little deaf now and then. with bits of broad-cloth, thread, needles, | Riding was not his only accomplish- leather, bristles, wax, in fact everything | ment. ‘One day, for a considerable useful in camp in that way; besides wager, he floated on his back in the five hundred flannel jackets, and at the | Thames, from Westminster Bridge to corner of each of them was sewed in a! Blackfriars, with a flag erect in each shilling, that in case they [the soldiers] | hand.” Brave times ° None of our should be in want of money for re- | theatrical managers—neither Mr. Burr freshment they would know where they | nor Mr. De Courvinie — does these | might find a ‘friend in need.’ Previous | sporting things nowadays. to its being got together, like a gcod| Asriey died in Paris in 1814, and tactician he called his company to the was buried in Pére-la-Chaise. His son theatre and asked them what they)“ Young Astiey,” who had _ long would yield as contents for the chest ?| assisted and then succeeded him, lived The ladies instantly offered their ser- | only for seven years after, and Pére-la- vices in making the jackets, which was | Chaise guards his dust too. ; received very good-naturedly.” The great Pamir Astiey built al- After this campaign he was back at together nineteen amphitheatres ; and his amphitheatre, which was then on| what the old fellow’s ghost can think the site of the Lyceum Theatre, in time | when he visits London now and finds to dress in the Windsor uniform and| not a single circus for all her millions = en aq at bt ne oy cage Se ee shall =y ? lishment when the Kine and Duke of | "Twixt revue and revue no room for a York rode by in triumphant procession. | horse to put even his nose in! Could The Duke and Mr. Asttey saluting each | his reflection be other than that we other, “the King was pleased to say| have cut the ’osses to come to the to his son, ‘Who is that, Frederick?’ | cackle? to which his Royal Highness immedi- | ately replied, ‘Mr. Astley, Sir, one of} «an «R.7.0.. as a railway transport our good friends, a veteran, one that) officer is commonly termed, does more work fought in the German war.’ Upon | than any other two officers put together and this the King turned towards Mr. | U™der far more trying conditions. His day | Ratliee ail ioe i, + tek anbeees | begins at cock-crow and, if he is lucky, ends Astley ¢é made ba e | at the same time the next morning. But he assent to him.” The incident, the | is not often lucky, and the result is he may chronicler continues, was ‘a theme of | be kept on the go for a few additional hours.”’ exultation to Mr. Astley, and it was Morning Paper. constant in his remembrance for a | The only time he gets ahead of his long while.” eg : — oe. — kicks Mr. Asriey’s house of entertainment | him into the middle of next week. was famous not only for horses ‘but for | the gigantic spectacles which he devised) fyom a notice of The Faithful, and elaborated. Among his inventions | yy MaserreLp’s new play :-— I rather fancy that “real water” has | to be included. In his circus he reigned supreme, a vain and choleric martinet, who was, however, beloved by his employees. | In all his adversity—and through fire; Mr. GauswortHy, we understand, is alone he had more than his share—he | now wondering whether he should rest remained steadfastly honest. His} his poetical reputation on Dauber. “Tf this play is not the equal of ‘The Silver Box’ and some others of his works, it will have to be considered in the final estimate of Masefield’s place in our literature.’ Morning Paper.

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m he ort rk nd ay | ds | he | ay | Lis ks ‘he it ate St } — DecEMBER 29, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 529 AUNT’S GUIDE TO THE ARMY. ABBREVIATIONS AND A Morro. For the elucidation of military mysteries, this treatise is written to assist those estimable ladies who have | given their nephews to the service of K. and C. Motto.— When in doubt send tobacco, ance with the following is assumed :— C.O., N.C.O., 0.C., A.O.C., P.C., A.P.C., D.C.M., G.C.M., L.C.M., W.O., T.O., M.G.O., D.P.O., G.P.O., H,0. C.S.M.—A fierce misanthropist, who | made the British Army what it was, not what it is, and who 1s justly jealous | forits future. Men reassure themselves | with the thought that he cannot eat | them; but they hate to be victims of | the partial success that attends his efforts. On approaching the C.S.M. a man halts rigidly at attention, says, “Sir,” blushes by numbers (One—give the blood a smart cant up to the facial capillaries ; Two—cut it away sharply), and makes his request. There is an interval of some minutes, during which the man carries on with blushing, judging his own time. Then he re- peats, “Sir, may I ” “Nol” says the C.S.M., and they carry the man away. M.O.—A eallous officer, who heals the sick and makes the lame to walk, | even when they can hardly limp. Sol- diers with ailments report to him, and he marks them “ Medicine And Duty,” using only the initial letters, as he is a rude man. Then he explains that, there being no medicine available, only the latter part of the remedy is at their disposal. He is the Great Disillusion. 0.0.—The officer who sees that the rations are served and satisfactory. There is a scheme to replace him by a leaflet, printed, “If you are satisfied tell your friends; if not tell us.” This would serve also as a recruiting agent, and, for convenience, might be indexed, “AF y 9999----to x terms.” The | 0.0. may not accept a gratuity. Seconp Loots.—No reference to later enterprises of the Crown Prince; but the name applied by sisters and fiancées to that vast crowd whose rank is de- noted by a solitary star. Late 1915 models may still be obtained, new or hardly used at all. C.Q.M.8.—The man who proves by algebra that soldiers are entitled to less pay than they expect. ‘“ What about your H.9731, and your B.C.55, and Abbreviations. — Previous acquaint- | jee "ee Lo “2 h.7 § ( “ hb “¥ hy. Yl g ZB I my 4 é A Kf I, Ys ‘ ” . VIB a . ; VitBep OF 7 NK — Puncetilious Officer. ‘‘ Don’? YOU KNOW THAT YOU MUST SALUTE AN OFFICER?”’ Recruit. ‘* Yes, Str; But 1 Was TOLD NEVER TO DO IT WITH A PIPE IN MY MOUTH." ing a remarkable elevating influence which is found to be of great service in assisting Germans to leave their trenches. It may also be used to remove superfluous hairs. \laterally, with an unpleasant request | on the left-hand side and a blank space ‘on the right. Officers of the rank of | captain and above fill in the space with ‘Passed to you for necessary action, seme and send it on to a subordinate. | O.S.E.—In summer camps an officer of omnicidal tendencies is appointed Officer Strafing Earwigs. Were this C. 348.—A piece of paper divided | your U.8?” he says; and, being unable | under W.O. authority the third initial to solve even the simplest simultaneous | would be W. for “ Wigs, ear.” A sug- equation, they depart with sorrow and gestion in “Insecticide Instructions, regret. |1915,” is based on the earwig’s well-| T.N.T.—An ingenious discovery hav- | known propensity for climbing. A pole of infinite length is erected; the little creatures make for the upper extremity and are never seen again. Another Impending Apology. ‘*At the Hotel Riposo, with Captain absent on active service, nothing is left to be desired.’’—Bexrhill Chronicle. Under the heading, “ An Excusable Error,” an evening paper last week printed the following :— ‘“‘The following correction of a telegram was sent out to-day by a news agency :— In Christiania telegram sent you to-day please read :— ‘Mr. Ford’s peac expedition’ instead of ‘Mr. Ford’s peace exhibition.’ ”’ To us the correction seems quite inex- cusable. Poor Mr. Forp wants to put an end to war, not to take the end off peace.

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530 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. — [Decemner 29, 1915, A il a M4 Z i y il [ | hi AY wae po | SH v7 Cd \ ss S \ ‘od (oad —- a \ oS ae | | i = py ai => y) \\ aaa — \ pi — gers . —— NN BAF i wal TNE | BAW ‘*Yon’s A BONNY LAss.”’ ; ae." ‘*D’ YE KEN HER?”’ , “ne.” ‘THEN WILL YE NO SPEAK TO HER?”’ ‘‘Ay, WHEN SHE’S PAID HER PENNY?” | eel For in these strains barbaric a wondrous magic sings ; THE PIPES: A PALINODE. They tell of ancient battles, forgotten, far-off things ; [Suggested by reading in The Westminster Gazette that the Provost | Of grief and death and glory, until the pageant glows of Inverness had received £194 from Java, subscribed by Dutch, Ar- | With memories of WALLACE, of BrucE and of Montrose. menians and Chinese, to be utilised ‘‘ in helping the pipe bands of the | 997. | battalions of the different regiments quartered in the Highlands.’’).| The firth now calm and glassy, now flecked with angry WueEn I was young and precious, and thought it fine and | foam ; : smart The flaming pall of sunset that glows on Suilven’s dome ; To advertise my loathing of any low-class art, |The bracken and the heather, the clover-and the broom — I priggishly regarded the skirling of the pipes, All haunt the vision woven by music’s fairy loom. Matched with orchestral music, as mere melodic swipes. : | Back to the lonely shieling beneath the cloudy skies, | I waxed supremely scornful about their nasal tone ; To strath and glen and corrie the yearning spirit flies ; Denounced as inartistic their everlasting drone ; | For all the Highland glamour and all the Highland pride Denied that those who played them required the slightest | Lives in these poignant measures, enshrined and glorified. skill, ; ss ; ' , ‘ And held that their esthetic significance was ni/. So when I find in Java div erging racial ty pe, | United by their common allegiance to the pipes, But time brings his revenges, and age the truth discerns, | Remitting-to old Scotland close on two hundred pounds 8 8 5 \ sae 5 ; Ryne } Or, as the ancient proverb remarks, “ one lives and learns” ; | To foster the production of patriotic sounds, And I, who scorned the piperas one who squealed and crowed, | , , a, ; By way of recantation now pen this palinode I’m not surprised or prompted to talk of zeal misplaced, ‘ Or call their contribution good money gone to waste, We praise, most incorrectly, the piping times of peace, | But deeply moved at finding Armenians and Chinese But O it is in war-time that piping should increase ; /And Dutch combined to cheer us in trying times like For then no decent Briton—I leave the freaks alone— these, an hear unthri I ic tl ‘om the pipes is blown. | ,, R : Can hear unthrilled the music that from the pipes is blown For, though I’m but a Ccckney and know that in my I lounge up to the window when bands and soldiers pass, veins Drawn by the lure of bugles, of drums and fifes and brass; | There’s little blood deriving from any Gaelic strains, I hurry there like lightning when it’s a kilted throng, I feel I'd merit beating with many bitter stripes And at their head the pipers stride valiantly along. | If I had failed in paying my homage to the pipes.

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4 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Decemper 29, 1915, SATS Saw > ry —— ods ANT ——— WE AU WERW AV RALA LR BS ee Wh OE emcee aden ‘ =——_ ———e, = —_. r SS 7 —: SSS ree —— LN S SSS Sane SSS WANA SAWN SEA FRUIT. DEAD ke

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| DeceMBER 29, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHA RIVARI. ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. (EXTRACTED FROM THE Diary OF Tosy, M.P.) Mr. Lioyp GrorGE House of Commons, Monday, Decem- ’ Y, House, marvellously full considering | Christmas Day falls within the week, listened to MINISTER oF Munitions re- lating a story which will live among stirring chapters of English history. It began on doleful note, disclosing perilous condition in which for fully a year the country stood for lack of material capable of competing with the elaborately-planned preparation of the enemy. ‘l'o this part of his address the Minister devoted one-half of his allotted time. It may be vividly summarised in a sentence. “Tn the month of May,” he said, “when the Germans were turning out 250,000 shells a day, most of them high explosives, we were turning out 2,500 a day in high explosives and 13,000 in shrapnel.” A gasp of pained astonishment passed along the benches. It was succeeded by hearty cheer when the Minister described transformation brought about in four months by the Department he created, whose work he has with rare insight and tireless energy directed. “In September battle lasted for days, > ~ ALMOST TOO LATE. !almost ran into weeks, but there was ber 20th.—For nearly two hours the no shortage of shells.” House learned that this is only the beginning. Whilst store of high explosives for our armies in the field is abundant the time is close at hand when, in addition, we shall be able to increase our supply of high explosives | to those of our Allies who are in need of them. Generous in acknowledgment of ser- vices rendered by experts whom he has | gathered round him for the accomplish- ment of this stupendous work, Luoyp GrorGE studiously kept his personal share in the background. Omission repaired by prolonged cheer from all parts of House that hailed an eloquent peroration. Business done.—PREMIER consenting | to extend life of Parliament by eight months instead of twelve as proposed, Parliament Bill passed through Com- mittee. Wednesday.—Vote passed at 5 A.M. for further increase of ‘“ contemptible little Army ” to four millions. Thursday. — House adjourned for brief Christmas holiday. work on 4th January. } sonal non Grata.’ ONLY JUST CATCHES THE VICTORIA ‘BUS. The Superfluous Woman. ‘* BIRTHS. On 15th December, at —— Crescent, Cardiff, to Mr. and Mrs. , a daughter. FOR SALE BY AUCTION.” Welsh Paper. | ” has been very active. So that’s how the Germans get their shells. Evening Paper. ‘*Foreman Gardener, aged 25} years, seeks position in a good Church Choir, where similar occupation could be found.’’—Musical Times. | Our Cockney commentator suggests that | theadvertiser might be useful in keeping the verger in order. | ** Washington, State department announces that several Belgian prayer employed as coun- sellor to American legation at severals has left Belgium and were not return. Germany has | informed united states that natural was ‘ Per- Delaval whose report on could can injured cargely in french ministers correspondence published in great Britain were probably go to Havre.’’—Quetta News. There would seem to be some justice Back at|in the complaints regarding the supply | of news to the outside world. ‘* After a clam night the German artillery |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [DecEMBER 29, 1915, — da odd ‘‘Lor, Mrs. GREEN, YOU AIN’T LOOKING YOURSELF AT ALL THIS MORNING. WHATEVER DO BE THE MATTER WITH You?” ‘‘THERE, Mrs. BupD, YOU KNOW THE TROOBLE WE’VE ALLUS ’AD WITH OUR GEORGE, AN’ NOW AH’VE A POSTCARD THIS MORNIN SAYIN’ AS 'OW HE’S GoT T’ V.C., AN’ ME AN’ ’IS FATHER TEETOTALERS ALL OUR LIVES!”’ TOAST IN WAR-TIME. Cuapter I, A wistFut subaltern sat in the mess- hut at breakfast. The rain poured down unceasingly and ran musically off the tin roof. He stared at the slice of anemic-looking A.S.C. bread he had cut, and thought of toast—hot toast, wonderfully crisp and divinely brown. Toast for breakfast! He took up his slice of bread and buttered it sadly. Cuapter IT. After breakfast he wrote in the Mess Suggestion Book: “It is suggested that toast be supplied for breakfast.” After some time the Mess Secretary wrote on the opposite page: “ This is impossible owing to lack of accommo- dation in the kitchen.” Cuarter III. For many mornings he ate his de- pressing bread in sadness; then an inspiration came to him. He wrote again in the Suggestion Book: “ It is suggested that toasting-forks be sup- plied in the Mess.” He pictured him- self squatting in front of the fire on a cold morning making that pale expanse of bread divinely brown. He waited eagerly for the Mess Secretary’s answer, and was chilled to find written under his request for toasting-forks: ‘‘ What for?” But, with a gleam of irony, he wrote underneath, “To toast with,” and smiled gladly. The smile faded when he found written neatly under- neath his ingenuous irony the single) word, “ Where?” Still undaunted he appended the necessary explanation: “ At the stove.” He waited again for this to bear fruit, | and was himself noticeably brighter | for the new interest which he found in| his days. The answer, however, was | not reassuring. “As it is a coke stove, in the Mess at present, I am afraid you | would not be successful.” Cuaprer IV. He tried a fresh line of attack. is suggested that coal instead of coke | be supplied for the Mess.” But here | he was on perilous ground. The answer | came swift and decisive: ‘ This touches on the Quartermaster’s department, | and is out of my province.” Feeling that the Mess Secretary was | “ It “one up” on him, he interviewed the Quartermaster. “Coal? What’s the use of indenting for coal for a grate which is made for coke, and burns better with coke? If you can have the stove changed, I’ll get you some coal. You ’d better see the R.E.” He saw the R.E. man, who was a friend of his, but nothing could be f[ done without the G.O.C.’s permission. “ You'd better write out an application and put it in through me.” He went back to his quarters and began to write. He had begun the third copy, for it had to be sent in in tripli- cate, when he started to think. After all, toast seemed a very difficult thing to obtain. It would only lengthen the War. He tore up his letters. CHAPTER V. A wistful subaltern sat in the mess- hut at breakfast. The rain poured down unceasingly and ran musically off the tin roof. He stared at the slice of anemic-looking A.S.C. bread he had cut and thought of toast —hot toast, wonderfully crisp, divinely brown. Toast for breakfast! He took up his slice of bread and buttered it sadly.

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he he ite ns he al. & e on nd rd li- on S- le DeEcEMBER 29, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 535 (\\\\ ae ** CON-FOUND you! Lg (ie ell Ate irr VG SE You DID GIMME A JumP!”* OUR BOOKING-OFFICE, : (By Mr. Punch’s Staff of Learned Clerks.) READERS who expect biography to be spiced with gossip and flavoured by anecdote will find little to suit their tastes in The Life of Lord Strathcona and Mount Royal (Casseux). Mr. BrecktEs WILLSON has given us a monumental book, and if we are compelled occasionally to think that he treats Lord StRATHCONA more as an institution than as a man I for one am in the end bound to admit that his method is justified by its results. After reading these 600 pages I have not a very intimate knowledge of Lord SrratHcona himself, but I do know thoroughly the work he accomplished, and Mr. Wittson may well say that the work is the man. What everyone knows from mere hearsay of Lord Stratxcona is that he played a wonderful part in the development of Canada, that he was extraordinarily generous, and that he lived to a very ripe old age; what perhaps is not widely realized is that the thought always at the back of his mind was to bind the British Empire closer and closer together for self-support. That was his vision, that was the poetry of a life strenuously lived among business men and the atmosphere of business. When at the age of seventy-six, after years of devoted toil, Lord SrratHcona (then Sir Donatp Sairv) was appointed High Commissioner of Canada in 1896, one of our ex-Cabinet Ministers apparently had never heard of him, and certainly did not know his Christian name. ‘“ Who,” he wrote, “is this Sir David Smith who is to replace our old friend Tupper?” In the end honours fell fast to the lot of this gallant veteran, and to-day, when we are all Imperialists at heart, we have to thank him very largely both for the spirit of Canada and ifor the splendid way in which she has been able to make that spirit manifest. I make a guess (it’s dull of me not to be certain) that ithe title of The Accolade (Stvawick AND Jackson) had something to do with clever philandering Johnny Ingestre’s victory over himself when that tenderly passionate and innocent maid, Helena Falkland, surrendered her heart to him so completely. He had been jockeyed by a criminally obstinate father into an early marriage with the wholly unsuitable Ursula, but he never claimed that the real thing when it came justified the breaking of all other pledges and many other people’s happiness. Such knights are rare in modern fiction, and Johnny, who was the very opposite of a prig, but an odd bundle of whims, vanities, gifts and ambitions, and whose particular desire it was to throw over all the rather solemn swagger of the Ingestre tradition for the freer glories of the stage (his father dished that business also), is a character drawn with the uncanny cleverness and subtlety which the author of Herself so consistently achieves. If I have a grievance against Johnny it is that he found time to carry on such a delicate flirta- tion with Violet Shovell, née Ashwin. I feel that if Mrs. Shovell was going to allow anyone to flirt with her it might very well have been me, who met her in Duke Jones and fell desperately in love. So far I have very properly let concealment feed on my damask cheek. But 1 am sorely tempted to a paragraph in that indiscreet column of The Times. ... The fact is that Helena and Violet are really perfect dears. Pray let me introduce you. Still the War books come; and not in single spies. But

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536 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL [December 29, 1915, however dense their battalions there should, I am sure, dislike and despise Toby Settringham. You cannot judge him remain room and a warm welcome in our hearts for the by ordinary standards. He is such a good chap. You feel one I have last read, the title of which is With My all the time that he will wake up and be ashamed of himself, Regiment (HEINEMANN), and its author a young officer who and then he will prove his real worth; and of course this discreetly signs himself “ PLatoon Commanper.” His is what happens. I was a little sorry that Madame ALBANEsI volume, which has at least the classic excuse of being a’ fell back on the old device of the birth of a child to bring little one, is published at the pleasantly economical price | about the reconciliation of Toby and his wife, but I suppose of three-shillings-and-sixpence, and from cover to cover | the temptation was irresistible; and, after all, it is probably is filled with most vivid and well-realized pictures of the | what would have happened in real life. Madame ALBANESI early days of the War, as they presented themselves | has the knack—achieved by virtue of her admirably natural to the writer. That is the special value of the book, | dialogue—of making the reader feel that he is reading about that it gives in detail just those impressions that the | living people. She uses no wood in the manufacture of her characters. Toby Settringham is so alive that he becomes stay-at-home watchers of Platoon Commanders most | a personal friend on the second page; and Oscar Beel is, I (almost) in the life of a lieutenant on active service, from | gave the impression of being able to walk and talk without to that on which the Hospital Ship welcomes him, as a cot- | active support and prompting on the author's part. case, to her tender ministrations. But the book is not only | — wish to receive; to read it is to share every experience | think, the only moneylender I tgve met in fiction who the day when he hurriedly joined at the outbreak of War, | of interest for its descriptions of campaigning. Into hissub-| Among the many things that—without wishing to argue ject, arma virosque, the writer introduces many incidental | about the reason—I have clung to from my youth up is a portraits of the men who; are making our War, of fellow - officers, the re- sourceful company com- mander, or the junior sub., fresh from Sandhurst, facing unmitigated horror with the quiet heroism of | a boy and a gentleman; of certain N.C.O.’s in whom a deserved tribute is paid to a magnificent body; and finally of the best private soldiers in the world. ‘‘ The men are fine,” said a letter from’ the Front that I opened | while in the very act of reading With My Regiment. “Tf the Germans could see their spirit they ’d give in at once.” No better words could be applied as the motto of a little book ain) £3) er \ '/ al — i - cS a a LP. TH IF WE HAD BEEN PRUSSIANS. Scenes from a revised History of Great Britain. Ricwarp III. (after that little affair of the Princes in the Tower) RECEIVES AT HIS OWN REQUEST, THE IRON CROss. ~~ tender feeling for pirates, and I am not at all grate- ful to Mr. Lovat Fraser for trying to rob me of this cherished possession. yy): Yet Pirates (Simpxry, NS ) Marsuanr) is garbed, as ~- lit should be, in a garish cover ; it contains “ decora- - |tions” by Mr. Fraser that would thrill a cod-fish ; its mere title is enough to stir the blood of the most anemic. Moreover Pirates has a delightful ‘history, for it appears ‘that it reproduces The History and Lives of all the most Notorious Pirates | and their Crews, the fifth ‘edition of which was | printed in 1735, and that this book was a “ piracy” ’ |of a larger work by Cap- ty] that everyone who has relations or friends at the West Front, and more especially the parents, sisters, cousins and aunts of Platoon Com- manders, should make a point of reading. I do not know which to admire more, the courage of Madame ALBANEs! in sitting down to write a long novel with a hero whom only the most skilful handling could make sympathetic, or the art with which she has triumphed over this obstacle. She has set herself one of the most difficult tasks which the art of fiction presents to those who practise it, and, in the expressive American phrase, she has “ got away with it.” One of the most rigid rules governing fiction is that the hero, whatever his other defects, must never marry for money. He may have his faults, but he must not do that. Yet such is the magic of Madame ALBANESI’S pen that, although the hero of The Sunlit Hills (Hutcuinson) deliberately commits this worst of crimes, never for a moment does the reader cease to like him. Perhaps you imagine that there were mitigating circumstances, that he did this thing to support a widowed mother or to restore the dear old family estates? Not at all. He did it from purely selfish motives, because he liked money and the ease which money brings, and this was the only way to get it. And yet, as I say, it is impossible to —_'tain CHARLES JOHNSON, entitled A General History of the Pyrates from their first Rise and Settlement in the Island of Providence to the Present Time ; with the Remarkable Actions and Adventures of the two Female Pyrates, Mary Read and Anne Bonny. The smaller book takes no cognisance of the second section, and so we miss the deeds of these adventurous women, but we have record enough of the crimes of such men as Captains Avery, JoHN RackHam, AnsTISs, etc., to satisfy most of us. My trouble is that their crimes were too sordid, that they murdered each other with an impartiality that is bound to be distressing to anyone who has a regard for their pro- fession. I am not sure that even my profound affection for Smee is proof against the devastations caused by this dreadful thing that Mr. Fraser has thrown at me. ‘*There is shortly to be opened at Nuneaton, her birthplace, a memorial to George Eliot. This is the first public memorial to be erected to the novelist’s memory, the other one in existence being that erected by Mr. F. A. Newdigate-Newdegate, M.P., on his estate Arbury—the Cheveral Manor of her works—where George Eliot was born.’’—Morning Paper. GrorGE ELior appears to have had Homer’s knack of being born in several (we will not say cheveral) places at once,

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5. » him i feel iself, this NESI ring pose ably NESI tural bout f her ymes is, I who hout rgue isa ates, rate- ASER e of sion. KIN, |, as wish ora- that ; its 1 to the over itful ear's The fF all rates fifth was that wey” Sap- SON, first the ures The and we ains f us. they d to pro- tion this ce, & tio be veing . his 2orge c of Ss at DeceMBER 29, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. 537 ii BERNARD Partrince. » THE PASSING. ‘A pint of British lager, if you please,” said the dear old gentleman who was my vis-d-vis in the restaurant car, and he turned from the waiter to me. ‘One misses the Munich kin1,” he said, “ but I couldn’t stomach it now.” “Nor I, Sir,” I replied, and was glad that he had spoken. I had watched his benevolent face—it seemed some- how familiar—in the compartment which we had shared, and wished he would speak to me. And now, with nothing but a small table for two between us, the ice, as they say, was broken, and we fell to talking of the changes of taste and habit, even in little things like lager, that the War had brought about. “T should like to tell you, if I may,” he said, “ of a rather sad dream that I had last night. In my sleep I found myself in a certain London bier-halle (now Anglicized) that I used to frequent in the old days before everything German became impossible. Though the decorations of the room were still as I knew them, the atmosphere had changed with the management. I was sitting in meditation at my favourite table when there fell upon my ear a gentle moan, very human and appealing. I looked up. It was just from where the little man in the red eap was smiling from behind a Gargantuan barrel of beer that the sound of tender lamentation seemed to come. To be sure the little fellow was only half a man, being a flat presentment on the frescoed wall of the restaurant, and of course it could not have been he who had spoken. And then suddenly I knew that it was. “« You don’t mind me speaking to you?’ said the small person. He came right off the wall as he said the words and squatted on the wooden table with its dumpy legs, swinging his own as he took his place. ‘You see I fancied you would understand. I shouldn’t wonder if they close this place now, for it is gone and will never come back any more.’ «« What’s missing ?’ I asked, feeling sorry for his dejection. “«You know. I have often seen you coming in for a sandwich and a drop of Miinchner. What I am sorry for is that it is all over, all the jolly old spirit of Germany; but there—it is gone, and nothing will make things the same again. You see we were the real Germany, the Germany you and the rest admired. Pity to spoil it all, for | there was a lot of good in it, and we never did any harm.’ He planted his feet on a chair and shifted his belt. “«T come from the Rhine, but I’ve been here in London for years now. Good place Germany, or it was once, but I shall never go back. They can scratch me off the wall if they like, I don’t care.’ “* You don’t approve of this Kaiser person, then?’ I asked, a little relieved, for it seemed strange to be conversing | with one who possibly should have been interned. The little man shook his head till the red cap quivered. “*Him!’ he said with vibrating contempt. ‘No, I don’t. He’s not Germany. It’s we who are Germany, we and my friends; and we are sorry, I can tell you that. Up there’—he gave a backward gesture whence he had |

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538 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL [DecemBer 29, 1915, come—'‘we have talked it over, and we are all agreed. They have gone mad. You know what I mean. You’ ve seen the Rhine. I heard you speaking of it one night, for you always used to sit close to me here. I am thinking of all that, and the music and the dreams, and the old professors—real professors who scorned politics as trivial things—and turret windows, and ancient cities, and fat old burgomasters, and the little villages and the kinder. You know the Christmas Tree came from there, the old Germany which we used to love when folks were kind and did their best.’ As he spoke he waved his hand, and in an instant there stood in the centre of the now deserted café a radiant vision of a tree, all fairy lights and dark and mysterious shadows, with dainty little fair-haired Gretchens sitting on the branches, and toy houses suspended by golden twine. «Tt was good, wasn’t it ?’ murmured the little man as the vision faded away ; ‘but it wasn’t only that. Germany had its kingdom, a mighty kingdom among the only things which really matter. It had romance and the spring, and it was good to see the students, to hear the laughter, and to listen to the old fellow who used to play the violin at that place in Heidelberg, you remember him? Ah, yes, it is sad enough, for it never can happen again, since the spirit of the true Germany is dead. No, it never can happen again—never again—never again He seemed about to say it once more, when suddenly there was a step on the stairs and a waiter hurried across the room, coming from the modern department on the floor above, and I looked up to see that my friend had returned to his plac@behind the beer barrel. “That was my dream. Of course the little fellow had been out of Germany for many years, and had not seen that the changes of which he spoke had been going on for a long, long time under the influence of Prussian militarism. So that to-day we are not just at war with the Katser and his professional soldiers, we are at war with the whole German nation whose heart they have brutalised. How else can you account for the ecstasy of delight with which the sinking of the Lusitania, to take one example, was received by all classes in Germany? No such change of heart could be made on a sudden, even under the stress of war . . . Shall we go back to our compart- ment and continue this talk?” . . . We returned, lit pipes, and he began again. “We too, of course, have changed, but not like that. We have roused ourselves from our apathy ; we have learned to hate, and more hotly than we ever hated anything before, the spirit which provoked the War, and whose conduct of it has put our enemies for ever outside the communion of humanity. But we have not changed our hearts ; we still cling to the old ideals and nurse the old hopes; we have not denied our faiths and loyalties; we have not lost our sense of honour and pity, nor yet our love of that humour in which tears and laughter are blent. I hope not; I hope not,” he said very earnestly. “I look into my own heart and tell myself that I can find no change there. But I should like the test of some one else’s unprejudiced opinion.” He looked me very straight in the eyes as though to probe my sympathies. Then he rose and took a nice fat bag from the rack. “T have here,” he explained, “a few samples of my own thoughts, put down during the last half-year that has so tried our English temper. I am to give them to my friends for an Old Year’s memory and a New Year’s greeting. Will you do me the favour of accepting a copy, and letting me know at your leisure whether you think my heart, as far as these pages reveal it, is right? You will find my name and address on the fly-leaf.” As I was passing down the corridor behind him I had noticed a familiar excrescence between his shoulders, and now my best suspicions were confirmed as he handed me Mr. Punch’s One Hundred and Forty-dlinth Volume.

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5. seen f all -and the est.’ iant - on any and n at pirit say lern el. and e of e at y of No art- lave 10se rts ; lost ae ere. ugh 3 sO ing. iy aS ers, DecemsBer 29, 1915.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL or we To) PARTRIDGE, BERNARD. Advance that Failed (The)........ 211 Boys of the Dachshund Breed .... 33 Call of the Tsar (The) ............ 231 SE I Ea cccnsescccccescs 71 EE EE ntusicus-entiawe-chun 531 Empty Victory (An) ...........00. 491 Friend in Need (A).......ccesccses 91 eee 351 Hohenzollern Habit (The) 811 Hommage a la France! -. 381 Last Word (The)..... inaabiahininieaeiel 251 BREE DONE oo cc cccsccseccss 191 Matter of Routine (A) ............ 411 New Departure (The) ............ 921 ASTON, JOHN. UR BCE” cssscccecccese 130 BeresForp, J. D. Victim of Invasion (A)..........+- 248 BrppEer, Masor. DwemtF490... 2. .ccccccccsccccccce 427 Brown, C. HILTon Ingratitude of Private Willocks (The) = Munitions he 050. wes-vocssaseweneenes BME dcnvcacovesssrsdvescaesese 362 FE Uicerdtidvacis oeeuevewetes 478 Brown, H. C. B. Aunt’s Guide to the Army ........ 529 Burnet, W. Hopcson Requisitions” o..ccscc.csccsse 159 Bussripce, A. W. 2 ae 8 To a Neutral Friend ............+ 230 Carson, J. H. B. Rex of the Transport ............ 382 CarTER, DESMOND. Arms and the Woman ............ 378 CLARKE, DUDLEY Gentle Slacker (The).............. 108 Musketry Instructions .......... 78 Cons, Miss JOYCE DAEAGOR.... . csovvccvevcpcesevesescs 289 Fiddler (The) ....ccceceee-ccceeee 230 Cons, THOMAS Empty Sleeve (The) ..........+00. 365 Exception (The) .......+-..0++e00- 158 Cotutns, G. H. Dirge of the Dress Coat (The) .... 458 Jeune eer 409 Our Literary _ RR onbonsewwsay 188 Saving Graers... cc.scosccesccsecce 108 Sidelight on History as -twak-coee 205 SE GERD. « cccsccvaccvsescovces 262 | eer re 256 | To my Postmaid..........scccess. 177 Cartoons. Persuading of Tino (The).......... 431 Pride before the “‘ Fall” .......... 51 Privilege ....ccccccccceses-cosese 451 Record Breaker (The) ........+-++ 271 Reluctant Swains .......0+2+++e08 511 Self-invited Guest (The) .......... 391 To Lighten the Ship.............- 371 Two Ideals (The) ......---.++ 110-111 Unauthorised Flirtation (An)...... 471 Raven-Hit1, L. After One Year ...sccccececscesees 13] ARIE (TRG) cocccccecccccccevecs 151 Balkan Question (The)........-... 263 Articles. Cutiack, F. M. From a Belgian Garden........-- 68, 85 Dark, RICHARD Out of the Past .......cceseeeseee 114 Tomlinson’s Progress ...........+ 298 Watcher at the Window (The) .... 38 Davey, H. W. Tele phone at the Front (The) .... 402 Dewnis, G. P. Balkan Intelligence ..........+++. 309 DRENNAN, MAX Chatto and the Pessimist ........ 127 In his Own Defence ........2.s0 154 Meditations of Marcus O'Reilly .. 9 Our School 2 Recruitingof Poppett Minimus (The) 329 Desxman W. St. G. paetbesteengagpees 274 On the § Spy- ‘Trail ......¢ 55, 89, 328, 466 EcKERSLEY, ARTHUR Appro. Week (The) .........0-+++ 215 Colourable Incident (A) .......... 193 Social Situation (The) ............ 336 Speciality Turns for the Music Halls 467 ELIAS, FRANK Changes in the Army 8 Dream of Private Atkins (The) .... 222 Letters—Patent or Otherwise .... 157 EMANUEL, WALTER Charivaria............ 5, 41, 61, 81, 101 | Fay, STan.ey J. Fount of Inspiration (The) ....... - F Fenn, CLive R. Passing (The) ...... e000 e0rccceree 537 FREEMAN, W. Honeymoon (The) .....++-+ee+00 - 87 GARSTIN, C “ Quat’ Sous Lait” ....ccccceceece 148 Trooper (The) ......cececeeerseees 518 Garvey, Miss I. Blanche’s Letters ......seses. 188, 388 | 458 Letter from Gretchen ( ad Banqueting as Usual.............. 388 By Way of a Change.............+ 103 Carolling by Command .......... 503 arr 403 Enemy M.P. (The).......... ss. 43 Ganymede and the German Eagle 283 Hail, Columba! .....0...eseeeeees 203 6 243 New “ Battle of the Baltic” (The) 183 Old Man of the Sea(The) ........ 63 On the Tracker’s Track .......... 363 Our Friend the Enemy............ 343 ek eee +. 171 Political Economist (The) . -- 463 Promise of Winter (The)....... oe» 443 HILLESPIE, A. B. Summer and Sorrow .......... coos 96 Gittins, H. N. Anti-Aircraft ........ccccccee 2% 258, 526 Lonely Subaltern (A) ........+++ 208 Graves, C. L., anp Lucas, E. V. Hecklebury Hall 4 Bow War Books ...cccccsccocceses 185 Graves, ©. L. Ballad of Bulbs (A) .........0006- 296 Busy Bees (The)...... covececccces 122 Compensation (The) ceeccesoeseses 309 ear 335 Homage to Hayling .............. 205 Human Side (The)..............+. 36 Boomoclast (ERS)... ..cccccccccsecce 228 Importunates (The) .............. 87 PORE § n00n se savesevecensccce 255 SED cccaccndssegeen i cseisseesees 165 Kitty : a War Portrait ............ 514 BOUE SMUMNG CB). 0.0000 0600000000 367 POOR TEEEED ccncccecccseccoses 847 New Way with Old Clothes (A).... 278 Novelist Astray (The) ............ 294 the car che, OE Te 49 Pipes (The): A Palinode.......... 530 Rhymes for all Times ............ 409 Roosevelt on Wilson ........-.+. 495 Sonnet of Strange Sounds ........ 120 To Anthony Trollope ............ 76 To Bill, aged 6 454 To Patrick, aged 2 a TEE cn swasnblnnmeeainned se 153 Tyranny of Ealing (The) .......... 187 U biquitous Scot (Th _ eee 469 WES ND cekdnssesscesiesen 394 HALL, ComMANDER Fitzroy More Mascots for our Heroes...... 313 HASELDEN, PERCY Adventurer (The) ........e0sseee0 138 DOPE TD .ceseccccseses cocccese J Haskins, Miss M. L. Women to Men .......... Cocccece 316 DY) = ww Ready and Waiting ............ o 8 PION cn ceesavccsecveccevess $23 Sweeping the North Sea .......... 523 PARSE TOROS TEM... cvccsccccesece 483 Unsinkable Tirp (The)............ 223 | rrr 20-21 TownseEnD, F. H. Achievement (The) ........++--00 168 Churchill s’en va-t-en Guerre...... 423 On the King’s Highway .......... 303 Putting Him in His Place ........ 83 ee ree 123 Words and Deeds ......... juaseue 143 Hastines, B. MacDonatp SR bo neccssvesevesccce - 282 Amateur Shepherd (The).......... 194 Battle of the Elbe (The) .......... 368 Feeding the Nations.............. 276 Herbert, A. P. — ysis Jot the Tenth Platoon (The) = DUD covccececeseesesessocecowces Through the Gate of Horn ........ 2 Pe fn DOGG vcdecocvceceveceversssse 207 Twitting the Turk ............ 190, 450 Woes of a Wounded (The). 247 ,805, 327 ” 358 Hopekinson, T. *« Beware of Imitations"’.......... 407 DONE TENSES ccescccecccccccess ON Legend of the Rhine (A). 95 Literary War Worker (A).. 438 Passing of the Mother-in-Law (The) 198 Things that Matter Witness for the Defence (The) .... 278 HoskeEn, J. F. Camp Quartermastering Our Regimental Sports Permanganate of Potash .. Surprise Visit (A) Howe tt, Capt. E. B. More Fishing in Flanders ........ 227 Hucues, C. E. Respect for the Cloth ...... | HynpMAN, 8. H. Gift Shell (A) .......+0. nee iene . 895 InGLEBy, H. coccce 527 Zeppelins and other “Muck” .... 347 JENKINS, ERNEST | Gentler Ways with the Press...... 416 Things he might do ............+. 318 JOUNSTON, ALEC At the Back of the Front...... 270, 496 | Atthe Front...... 6, 167, 187, 308, 354, 370, 418, 456, 476 KEIGwIin, R. P. Gift of Tongues (The) ........ coe O18

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x y 540 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI [DEeceMBER 29, 1915, * Articles—continued. Kipp, Antnur MacKewzin, A. G. SEAMAN, OwEN a Colours .........eeeeeeees 306 | Echo of “The Big Drum” (An).. 287 Omics Git (Phe) «.... 2.52 cccecees 233| Affair of Outposts(An) .........- 162 orn ss Poe esse eeeess = Meals and the Malgyy-.....0-0++++ ‘S| MacRoBenrt, CAPTain J. fad — senegenece 98, 356, 376, sie Map-Makers (The) soe Soke ata on: eR os Her Grace's Hospital ............ 310] Balkan Nurwory Rhymes ---.....-- $43] My-coneol : Permissible Extravagance (A) tea Pair of Braces (4) ai aa lal ld _e Culture and the Colossus ... 482 My Moustacl MarsuAtL, Miss H. Dear Old Fetish (A) ...........+.+ 3 2 eee LANGLEY, F. O. TIN i a.0 cdcevedvecercies 216| How to Review War Poetry 32 | Rondeau of Regret ( oo Watch Dogs (The). .48, 88, 133, 156, 348, | yr pga. N. R. Limitations of the Kaiser (The).... 282 | Shirker (The) ...........++++++++. = 396, 428, 448, 488, 524 Spnatataeny Tasl....<cs-.-0000-. 473 | MOl...2-+---seseserrsereoseeroess -. 882 ad SEemase*rsseeeresss = came, R. ©. Great Game (The) .... +++ 206 ager a mag get | m the ss Tenseciel Pieenee CEC udget (The) .......ecescesecsees 338] Man in Earnest (The) = a a ee ca a Sykes, A. A Coughs and Colds ....-..++++++++: 498]. ‘ophey also Serve” ........0+005- 517 PU a cnvessssveveenvescseeees 242 8, A. A. ee Diary (The) ........s0eeeeee- . 378] Wottler and the Detien (The) .... 426 To a Zeppelin ....... pittt esses 22 Burning the Brassard ............ 22 5 Eleven to One..... . 198 Norris, FLEer-Sunrceon H. L ng Ferdinand on his Prospects .... 322 Squad Drill with Respirators...... 2 Four-Poster (The) ..... 398 os ~ SGEY: ee i, ND - ociccncvsasencses. & 62 Teswors OF CS TAT occ sccicses 314 In Kensington Square ........-... 76| War Poem (The)........++.+++++++ 476 | Trained Volunteers and the Register 2 Tarrents, 8. G. ¢ I ee 310| OciLviE, W. H. Trench-Hu nour made in Germany 422 “ . ; 246 ) xa 'y Ueberland Route (The)...........- 442| Khaki Courtship (A)..........---- pap ofa Soul (The)....-- 0-255 123 HUSA CTNC)....0.0 0s cc ccseccccce 490 Wanted: & Consoe of ag 42 Wounded Hero(A)..............-. 508 men (The). 5S paid ater ec on Oyen, Miss M. Wartcne.................... se2| ewan, A. Paasrox Bea SOCkS ecole 178] _, Robin at the Front (A) .......+. 295 | Wayside Calvary (Phe)...0000000 102 | Breakdowns and Repairs.......... Sinister Bondage ...........0.+- 518| Pezark, C. T. Weary Willie, Junior.............. s2| Daughter of France (A) . ze See rte nana 06] Defaulters ..........sseescoesers 135 | SHAKESPEARE, CApTain W. J. on —— (4) amenee ee Se aie 602, = PLumBE, C. Conway Fishing in Flanders ............+. 197 care ie oie ” 29 216, 242, 296, 358, 5 . The a | Gescu ‘ y oft Md doe Volunteering Spirit (The) ........ 36 Fat ho — Gronts (a) ieee ~ 5, — r me nm 7 - My Working Party ..eeeeeeee eens War-Loan Form (The) ....2.2.2+.. Past enaenemeteaed Changing the Bowling ............ 408 | Tomas, F. S. cg AEN ARIS ERATE eR 238] Shell-Turner to a Shell (A)......... 8| Howto End the War inno Time .. 32| Literary Forecasts ............ 98, 104 Lock ER, W A. - | Pope, Miss JESSIE How to Make a Boom in Vouchers 65 Our Children SEE acco esceenee, BO Charivaria ......scererseerees weekly! Beauty Triumphant .............. 67| How to Touch the Working Man’s Tuomas, R. W. S Lucas, E. V. aS orctdccmerpanveeredi tie 507 2 EERE ES 515] Doing his Bit.. ......-..seeeeeeee 265 Charlie ........ orcccceccveccoecs 186] PoweE.t, G. H. Inside Knowledge ............+++. 385 | _ Supreme Sacrifice (The) .......... 155 Cut the Cackle . 2." ..cccoscce 528] Censor among the Poets (The) .... 345 Navy ina Nutshell (The) ........ 422 THOROLD, R A. " OE NE aco soss in save cn'ss retinas 302 Warther Concessions :............. 299 New Light on National Finance .. 47 Philosophy of Thamas (The) 602-5 462 Economists (The) APOE ... 814 Our “ Helpful” Series ............ 486 Professional (Ths) ......0s000cc0cs- 207 Famous Victory (A) ............. 168 | Prircnarn, J. T. Press in War-Time (The).......... 485 | THorp, JOSEPH General Rising (A)..............5% 846 | ee ttteeteeeereeeecees 218 Running eae 42 At the Play .......... 196, 236, 316, 356 ee, eee eee 389 TOU THE CINE). 6 oc sivccciccses 142 Sumptuary Laws + $55 | Prescorr, PARRY . Manor in the Air (A).............- 487 | RigBy, REGINALD To Get the Men ween Pree -+ 326 Family Ties ee 415 Mould of Form (A)..0020 2000020005 217 | Army Contracts .....2...2.e00000 g| Truth about the Boots(The)...... 398) SaelWicon 0.000070 404 | My Friend’s Crutches .........0.. 146| Best Seller(A) .................. 286 Uses of the Fund (The) .......... 125 Tuenen, J. H. New Vivisection (The) ...........- 61 Gu(tbe..................00..., ggg | Winding up our Watch............ 126 R : s Non-Stopper (A)......000000.- 000+ 6] Mor N”........ ccc 148 | SrrH, Miss O. Fox Chat with Seylla and Charybdis (A) 468 On Bellona’s Hem... .245, 267, 285, 405] Mote and the Beam (The) ........ 137 | Ballad-of the Resurrection Packet penn | naa aaa Binge THOUGNE CA) ......0005006s BBEL Yee, cisesceccccccccecseseccscnss 308 sean eicean ere aims tpain 377 | VAIZEY, Mrs ; ; crane tty ss eeeecceees = Risk, R. K. Conversation Book (The).......... 470 Zeppelin Bag (The) cocccccccccces 106 x ong bin ed RS ped Assisting Nature ........ eer 7| ‘Light Cruisers Old)” ....... .. 150 | VENNER, N. J. B. eee ag ceaa coe 375 | RITTENBEKG, MAX Mouth Organ (The) ........e000. 70 Toast in War-time .......++++++++- 534 W Way to the City of Light (The) .... 445| Govertisement................606 105 | Smiru, E. B. WALKER, F. C. ; Our Neighbour's rw Rese vmneerae 107 Ferguson .............++++++++-+. 525| Toa Bad Correspondent in Camp.. 447 Lucy, HEN RY a: eh Phases of a Year of War .......... 169 | WESTLAND, Miss A. } | Essence of Parliament during Session Too Compleat sb (TIG)..50:000. 147 Super-Saleswoman (The).......... 118 Oe errr 75 | McCreeg, Lizvt.-Co.. Joun Rowan, HILu S1iERNE, ASHLEY Wuite, R. F. In Flanders Fields....... ecccccees 468 “Day J GENE) svcvicceccesacesacese 154 Country Cotters (The)...... 86,116,128’ Territorialin India(A) 173, 226, 287, 506 Pictures and Sketches. Armovr, Magor G. D. .. 39, 59, 77, 188, 179, | Low, Harry ........ eeeeeceees 41, 334, 446] Morrow, GEORGE .... 28, 29, 40, 60, 80, 109, 199, 239, 279, 299, 819, 889, 359, 375, | Lunt, WiLnor ........ pee cacee 67, 165, 529 135, 180, 200, 220, 255, 280, 300, 320, 899, 419, 439, 459, 479, 499, 519| Minnar, H. R..... Sete tee heer sale ones ee 327, 36), 380, 398, 400, 414, 420, 440, | Bavcm_er, Lewis .. 10, 18, 23, 55, 69, 89, 114, _ A. WALLIs.. 30, 45, 94, 107, 147, 227, 474, 498, 514, 520, 536 | 149, 157, 197, 215, 237, 249, 290, 330, 7, 277, 310, 347, 409, 425, 454, 487, 527 | Monrow, NORMAN ....ccccsccccsscecee 140 350, 374, ae 418, 457, 470, 509, 530 Senn Epwin ae saeaeree ~~ 7a 81, 406 | Norris, ‘ARTHUR coos S00, 20T, 346, 434, 460, BeEtcueRr, GEORGE .. 5, 79, 99, 155, 175, 205, 475, 501 274, 354, 379, 394, 435, 467, 495, 534 PARTRIDGE, BERNARD. 22-6000 000s00ecs 1 BENNETT, Fre ERP Or es eeaaee ae PEGRAM, FRED...... 127, 259, 265, 369, 389, Brorrien, Lizvr. E.G. O.5.0.0.00000008 381 421, 455, 515 Birp, W. .... 13, 46, 120, 134, 166, 195, 257, PRANCE, BERTRAM........ 178, 221, 321, 498 317, 366, 401, 415, 456, 486 RavEN-HI11, L. .... 17, 20-21, 34, 173, 209, BLAIRERY,. TRB oocccc sacesewresocns 826 275, 397, 429, 510, 538 | Brock, H. M. .........-+2200- 407, 477, 485 REYNOLDS, FRANK .... 24, 25, 26, 27, 37, 44, | Brook, Ricarpo...... 98, 141, 160, 161, 194, 70, 97, 117, 145, 170, 189, 229, 245, 234, 249, 246, 276, 306, 361, 441, 461, 269, 287, 335, 355, 437, 489 466, 506, 521 BEYNOLDS, PRROT TT. ...:000 000000 aera 6 BUCHANAN, FRED. .....+ecccceces+ 206, 915 ROUNTREE, FIARRY ..0.ooccsccesvcseees 12, 137 | COBB, BEGG BOTH 6c ccvccvcceess ve SHEPARD, E. H....... 57, 119, 193, 250, 270, 1 RL MRTG. Go intcvs ween tiose oe cas 66 294, 329, 357, 417, 5) IN AN (ME re raises ay avec ae lean Eapatels . 286 SHEPPERSON, C. A.....9, 11, 50, 90, 115, 129, | Downey, THomas .......... (iseteae 281 150, 190, 213, 230, 254, 305, 337, 349, | DruMMOND, STEVEN B. ............+-.- 526 370, 395, 430, 450, 497, 517 FENNING, WILSON............ 10% ee Srwmons, GRAHAM .... 95, 174, 340, 426, 480 FRasER, P. .. « 4, canes 207, 295, 436, 481 Stampa, G. L...16, 56, 74, 108, 126, 130, 169, GERMAN, Dick.. ore eT tee 38 181, 250, 289, 301, 307, 367; 387, 410, | GRAVE, CHARLES. banare 135, 85, 154, 187, 219, 427, 469, 490, 535 | = 267, 309, 447 PO CE scictdunestsauseseeniee 196 | TIarnison, CHARLES............ 13, 106, 297 TUM: SEE scaces isseceaeataxen 400 CP ae ooee 217, 285, 449 Tomas, BERT :..... ovsceegit, Aa, 24. S77 | HaAsELDEN, W. K. ....316, 356, 357, 376, 516 Lei ws Hh TowNsEnD, F. H.7, 14, 15, 49, 65, 73, 93, 105, EISWRE, THOMAS: 60.6000 ccc 600% 136, 314, 386 TN i] "aig BHT I 113, 139, 159, 177, 185, 201, 225, 236, PEROELING,. Fo Ti nv ccecveee eds ssoeeceges GOO 7 j : 241, 253, 273, 285, 293, 325, 333, 345, HOPKINS, EVERARD.............-- - 146, 261 353, 365, 373, 385, 393, 413, 433, 445, a ” Serene eee. 295, 318, 341 453, 465, 473, 493, 505, 513, 525, 533 PROED, As Wx ss0bcssssvessiegecoeey a On Witson, Davip....... --.-- 86, 210, 226, 507

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