Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 146., January 14, 1914 by Various
V >>
Various >> Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 146., January 14, 1914
PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 146.
January 14, 1914.
CHARIVARIA.
We hear that the CHANCELLOR has, while in North Africa, been making a
close study of camels, with a view to ascertaining the nature of the
last straw which breaks their backs.
***
It is denied that Mr. LLOYD GEORGE, in order to give a practical
demonstration of his belief in the disarmament idea, has given
instructions that all precautions against attacks on him by
Suffragettes are to be discontinued.
***
The Balkan situation is considered to have undergone a change for
the worse owing to the purchase by Turkey of the Dreadnought _Rio de
Janeiro_. For ourselves we cannot subscribe to this view. Is it likely
that the Turks, after paying over L2,000,000 for her, will risk losing
this valuable vessel in war?
***
On the day of the marriage of the Teuton Coal-King's daughter to Lord
REDESDALE's son last week there was snow on the ground. The Coal-King
must have shown up very well against it.
***
Sir REGINALD BRADE is to be the new permanent secretary at the War
Office. Let's hope he has no connection with the firm of Gold Brade
and Red Tape.
***
It has been discovered that members of a certain Eskimo tribe have
an extra joint in their waists. The news has caused the greatest
excitement among cannibal tribes all over the world, and it is
expected that there will be a huge demand for these people. Where
there are big families to feed the extra joint will be invaluable.
***
"OUR RESOLUTION IS TO GO FORWARD IN THE NEW YEAR." advertises the
London General Omnibus Co. A capital idea, this. Vehicles which simply
go backwards are never so satisfactory.
***
After one-hundred-and-fifty-years' careful consideration the War
Office has given permission to the Black Watch and the King's
Royal Rifle Corps to bear on their regimental colours the honorary
distinction "North America, 1763-64," in recognition of services
rendered during the war against the Red Indians.
***
Not sixty people visited "La Gioconda" on one of the days after
her return to Paris, when a charge of four shillings was made for
admission, and, towards the end of the day, the smile is said to have
worn a rather forced look.
***
"Who are the best selling modern authors?" asks a contemporary. We
do not like to mention names, but, as readers, we have been sold by
several popular writers lately.
***
We are not surprised that many persons are becoming rather disgusted
with our little amateurish attempts at Winter. Thousands now go to
Switzerland, and Sir ERNEST SHACKLETON is going even further afield.
Meanwhile the Government does nothing to stem this emigration.
***
The boxing craze among the French continues. M. VEDRINES, the intrepid
aviator, has taken it up and been practising on M. Roux's ears.
***
The German CROWN PRINCE has become a member of the Danzig Cabinet
Makers' Union. Later on he hopes to become a Chancellor-maker.
***
Another impending apology? Headlines from _The Daily Chronicle_:--
"PNEUMONIA ON THE RAND.
DISCOVERY OF ITS CAUSE.
SIR ALMROTH WRIGHT'S
VACCINE TREATMENT."
***
Could frugality go further? At the golden wedding celebrations of a
Southend couple, a packet of wedding cake was eaten which had been put
away on their marriage day in 1863.
***
A soap combine, with a nominal capital of L35,000,000, is said to have
been formed to exploit China; and the Mongols may yet cease to be a
yellow race.
***
The latest tall story from America is to the effect that some burglars
who broke into the Presbyterian church at Syracuse, New York, stole a
parcel of sermons.
* * * * *
[Illustration: PANTOMIME FAUNA.
_Extract from the note-book of the dramatic critic of "the Wampton
Clarion_":--
Mr. Clarence Fink delighted the Audience with his truly life like
representation of [Crossed-out: a wolf bear lion cat monkey] an animal
of the furry tribe.]
* * * * *
YOUNG MOTHER'S SWAN-SONG.
["It was better for a young mother to start her new
chapter unhampered: the less she knew the better it was for
her."--_Mrs. Annie Swan_.]
How do you take a baby up?
What does it like to eat?
Do you put rusks in a feeding cup?
Have you to mince its meat?
Haven't I heard them speak of pap?
Isn't there caudle too?
How do you keep the thing on your lap?
Why are its eyes askew?
Is it a touch of original sin
Causes an infant to squall,
Or trust misplaced in a safety-pin
Lost in the depths of a shawl?
When do you "shorten" a growing child
(_Is_ it so much too long)?
Should legs be lopped or the scalp be filed?
Both in a sense seem wrong.
"Kitchy," I think I have heard them say;
What shall I make it kitch?
"Bo" I believe in a mystic way
Frightens or soothes, but which?
Didn't I see one once reversed,
Patted about the spine?
Is it the way they should all be nursed?
Will it agree with mine?
Surely its gums are strangely bare?
Why does it dribble so?
Will reason dawn in that glassy stare
If I dandle it briskly? OH!!!
Grandmothers! Mothers! or Instinct, you!
Haste with your secret lore!
What, oh what shall I, what shall I do?
Baby has crashed to the floor!
* * * * *
"They adjourned to the Village Hell, where each child was
presented with a parcel of suitable clothing."--_Tonbridge
Free Press_.
Asbestos, no doubt.
* * * * *
A PRANCING PRUSSIAN.
(_Showing how Colonel VON REUTER, late of Zabern, appealed to
his regiment to defend the honour of the Army. The following
speech is based upon evidence given at the Strassburg trial._)
My Prussian braves, on whom devolves the mission
To vindicate our gallant Army's worth,
Upholding in its present proud position
The noblest fighting instrument on earth--
If, in your progress, any vile civilian
Declines the homage of the lifted hat,
Your business is to paint his chest vermilion--
Kindly attend to that.
Never leave barracks, when you go a-shopping,
Without an escort loaded up with lead;
Always maintain a desultory popping
At anyone who wags a wanton head;
If, as he passes, some low boy should whistle
With nose in air and shameless chin out-thrust,
Making your scandalised moustaches bristle--
Reduce the dog to dust.
I hear a sinister and shocking rumour
Touching the native tendency to chaff.
If you should meet with specimens of humour
See that our soldiers get the final laugh;
Fling the facetious corpses in the fountains
So as the red blood overflows the brink;
Keep on until the blue Alsatian mountains
Turn a reflective pink.
Should any female whom your shadow touches
Grudge you the glad, but deferential, eye;
Should any cripple fail to hold his crutches
At the salute as you go marching by;
Draw, in the KAISER's name--'tis rank high treason;
Stun them with sabre-strokes upon the poll;
Then dump them (giving no pedantic reason)
Down cellars with the coal.
Be on your guard against all people strolling
In ones or twos about the public square
Hard by your quarters; set your men patrolling;
Ask every knave what he is doing there;
And, if in your good wisdom you determine
To view their conduct in a dangerous light,
Bring the machine-guns out and blow the vermin
Into the _Ewigkeit_.
Enough! I leave our honour in your keeping.
What are your bright swords for except to slay?
Preserve their lustre; let me see them leaping
Out of their scabbards twenty times a day;
Unless we smash these craven churls like crockery
To prove our right of place within the sun,
Our martial prestige has become a mockery
And Deutschland's day is done!
O.S.
* * * * *
"The dancing, in the conventional bullet style, of Miss Sybil
Roe, was quite good."--_Wiltshire Times_.
We confess that the bullet style is too fast for us.
* * * * *
"In all the best dress ateliers classic evening gowns are now
being exhibited, and in many of these the lines of the corsage
closely resemble the draperies to be seen on the Venus de
Milo."--_Daily Mail_.
We must go and look at the Venus de Milo's corsage again.
* * * * *
THE NEW JOURNAL-INSURANCE.
[Several newspapers have been roused to a sense of their
duties to their readers by the insurance competition between
_The Chronicle_ and _The Mail_. We make a few preliminary
announcements of other insurance schemes which are not yet
contemplated.]
_VOTES FOR WOMEN_.--A copy of the current issue nailed to your front
door insures you absolutely against arson.
_THE STAR_.--All regular subscribers to _The Star_ are insured with
the proprietors of _The Daily News_ for L1,000 in the event of being
welshed on any race-course.
_THE NATIONAL REVIEW_.--Annual subscribers to _The National Review_
are guaranteed L10,000 in the event of being (a) robbed on the highway
by a member of the present Ministry; (b) defrauded by a member of the
present Ministry; (c) having house burgled by member of the present
Ministry; (d) having pocket picked by member of present Ministry;
always excluding any act or acts done by the CHANCELLOR OF THE
EXCHEQUER in a strictly official capacity.
_THE CHURCH TIMES_.--All regular subscribers are insured for L500
against excommunication. L1,000 will be paid to the heirs or assigns
of any reader who loses his head in a conflict with a Bishop (Deans,
Rural Deans, Canons and Archdeacons being excepted from the benefit of
this clause in the policy).
_THE ENGLISH REVIEW_.--Poetic contributors are insured for L500 in the
event of a prosecution under the Blasphemy Laws.
_THE DAILY EXPRESS_.--You can sleep soundly in your bed, you can sleep
soundly in your train, if the current issue of _The Daily Express_
be on your person. All purchasers are insured for L10,000 against any
conflagrations or explosions caused by bombs or combustibles dropped
from German airships.
_THE BRITISH WEEKLY_.--All readers of _The British Weekly_ are insured
for L1,000 in the event of heart-failure caused by shock while reading
the thrilling stories provided by SILAS, JOSEPH, TIMOTHY and JEREMIAH
HOCKING.
_THE RECORD_.--L500 will be paid to any annual subscriber forcibly
detained in a convent, provided that at the time of such detention a
copy of the current issue of _The Record_ be in his possession. L1,000
will be paid to the legal representatives of any reader burnt at the
stake.
_THE CRICCIETH CHRONICLE_.--L3 a week for life, together with a
poultry farm on a Sutherland deer-forest, to the owner of any shorn
lamb which is found dead in a snow-drift with a copy of the current
issue wrapt round it, to keep it warm.
* * * * *
The great world rolls on, but of the master-brains which direct its
movement the man in the street knows nothing. He has never heard
of the Clerk of the Portland Urban District Council; he is entirely
ignorant of Army Order 701.
"Dear Sir" (writes the Clerk)--"A meeting of the Underhill
Members of the Council will be held to-morrow (Saturday), at 3
o'clock p.m., in Spring Gardens (Fortuneswell) for the purpose
of selecting a site for the Telegraph Post."
"With effect from 1st January, 1914" (says the Army Order)
"rewigging of gun sponges will be done by the Ordnance
Department instead of locally as at present."
* * * * *
"Inman was seen to greater advantage at yesterday afternoon's
session in this match of 18,000 up, in Edinburgh, than on
any previous day of the match, scoring 1,083 while Aiken was
aggregating the mentally afflicted."--_Nottingham Guardian_.
One must amuse oneself somehow while the other man is at the table.
* * * * *
[Illustration: A SEA-CHANGE.
TORY CHORUS (_to WINSTON_). "YOU'VE MADE ME LOVE YOU; I DIDN'T WANT TO
DO IT."]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Amiable Uncle_ (_doing some conjuring to amuse the
children_). "SEE, HERE I HAVE A BILLIARD BALL--I AM GOING TO TURN IT
INTO SOMETHING ELSE."
_First Bored Youngster_ (_to second ditto_). "WHY SHOULD HE? IT'S A
VERY NICE BALL."]
* * * * *
WHAT TO TELL AN EDITOR.
In view of _The Daily Mail's_ praiseworthy efforts to instruct
applicants for situations in the correct phrasing of letters to
prospective employers, we propose to supply a similar long-felt want,
and give a little advice as to the kind of letter it is desirable to
enclose with contributions to periodicals.
Begin your letter in a friendly vein, hoping the Editor and his people
are pretty well. Remember also that Editors like to know something
of the characters and histories of their contributors. So let your
communication include a _resume_ of your personal and literary career.
Don't fall into the error of making your letter too concise.
The following suggestions may serve to indicate some of the lines of
thought that you might follow:--
(1) State where you sent your first manuscript.
(2) What you thought of it, and of the Editor who returned it.
(3) Your height and chest measurement (an Editor likes to be on the
safe side).
(4) State who persuaded you to take up literature, and give height and
chest measurement of same.
(5) Give a short but optimistic description of your contribution, not
to exceed in length the contribution itself.
(6) State whether literary genius is rife in your family or has been
rife at any time since 1066.
(7) Give a list of journals to which you have already sent the
enclosed contribution, and state your reasons for supposing that the
Editors were misguided. Hint that perhaps, after all, their lack of
enterprise was fortunate for the present recipient.
(8) Mention your hobbies and the different appointments you have held
since the age of twelve, with names and addresses of employers. Also
give your reasons for remaining as long as you did in each situation.
(9) State how long you have been a subscriber to the journal you are
electing to honour, and whether you think it's worth the money. Point
out any little improvements you consider desirable in its compilation,
and mention other periodicals as perfect examples. Preface these
remarks with some such phrase as this: "Pray don't think I want to
teach you your business, but--"
(10) Give full list (names and addresses) of friends who have promised
to buy the paper if your contribution appears.
(11) Give a brief outline, in faultless English, of your religious,
political and police court convictions, your views on Mr. LLOYD
GEORGE, and any ideas you may have about the Law of Copyright.
Finally, enclose a stamped and addressed envelope for the return of
your article.
* * * * *
"It has always been supposed that Charles I. when Prince of
Wales and travelling incognito with the Duke of Buckingham saw
and fell in love with Marie Antoinette."
Not by us. We always supposed he fell in love with SARAH BERNHARDT.
* * * * *
THE SAME OLD STORY.
We stood in a circle round the parrot's cage and gazed with interest
at its occupant. She (Evangeline) was balancing easily on one leg,
while with the other leg and her beak she tried to peel a monkey-nut.
There are some of us who hate to be watched at meals, particularly
when dealing with the dessert, but Evangeline is not of our number.
"There," said Mrs. Atherley, "isn't she a beauty?"
I felt that, as the last to be introduced, I ought to say something.
"What do you say to a parrot?" I whispered to Miss Atherley.
"Have a banana," suggested Archie.
"I believe you say, 'Scratch-a-poll,'" said Miss Atherley, "but I
don't know why."
"Isn't that rather dangerous? Suppose it retorted 'Scratch your own,'
I shouldn't know a bit how to go on."
"It can't talk," said Archie. "It's quite a baby--only seven months
old. But it's no good showing it your watch; you must think of some
other way of amusing it."
"Break it to me, Archie. Have I been asked down solely to amuse the
parrot, or did any of you others want to see me?"
"Only the parrot," said Archie.
Evangeline paid no attention to us. She continued to wrestle with the
monkey-nut. I should say that she was a bird not easily amused.
"Can't it really talk at all?" I asked Mrs. Atherley.
"Not yet. You see, she's only just come over from South America, and
isn't used to the climate yet."
"Just the person you'd expect to talk a lot about the weather. I
believe you've been had. Write a little note to the poulterers and ask
if you can change it. You've got a bad one by mistake."
"We got it as a bird," said Mrs. Atherley with dignity, "not as a
gramophone."
The next morning Evangeline was as silent as ever. Miss Atherley and I
surveyed it after breakfast. It was still grappling with a monkey-nut,
but no doubt a different one.
"Isn't it _ever_ going to talk?" I asked. "Really, I thought parrots
were continually chatting."
"Yes, but they have to be taught--just like you teach a baby."
"Are you sure? I quite see that you have to teach them any special
things you want them to say, but I thought they were all born with
a few simple obvious remarks, like 'Poor Polly,' or--or 'Dash LLOYD
GEORGE.'"
"I don't think so," said Miss Atherley. "Not the green ones."
At dinner that evening, Mr. Atherley being now with us, the question
of Evangeline's education was seriously considered.
"The only proper method," began Mr. Atherley--"By the way," he said,
turning to me, "you don't know anything about parrots, do you?"
"No," I said. "You can go on quite safely."
"The only proper method of teaching a parrot--I got this from a man in
the City this morning--is to give her a word at a time, and to go on
repeating it over and over again until she's got hold of it."
"And after that the parrot goes on repeating it over and over again
until you've got sick of it," said Archie.
"Then we shall have to be very careful what word we choose," said Mrs.
Atherley.
"What is your favourite word?"
"Well, really--"
"Animal, vegetable or mineral?" asked Archie.
"This is quite impossible. Every word by itself seems so silly."
"Not 'home' and 'mother,'" I said reproachfully.
"You shall recite your little piece in the drawing-room afterwards,"
said Miss Atherley to me. "Think of something sensible now."
"Yes," said Mrs. Atherley. "What's the latest word from London?"
"Kikuyu."
"What?"
"I can't say it again," I protested.
"If you can't even say it twice, it's no good for Evangeline."
A thoughtful silence fell upon us.
"Have you fixed on a name for her yet?" Miss Atherley asked her
mother.
"Evangeline, of course."
"No, I mean a name for her to call _you_. Because if she's going
to call you 'Auntie' or 'Darling,' or whatever you decide on, you'd
better start by teaching her that."
And then I had a brilliant idea.
"I've got the very word," I said. "It's 'hallo.' You see, it's a
pleasant form of greeting to any stranger, and it will go perfectly
with the next word that she's taught, whatever it may be."
"Supposing it's 'wardrobe,'" suggested Archie, "or 'sardine'?"
"Why not? 'Hallo, Sardine' is the perfect title for a _revue_. Witty,
subtle, neat--probably the great brain of the Revue King has already
evolved it, and is planning the opening scene."
"Yes, 'hallo' isn't at all bad," said Mr. Atherley. "Anyway, it's
better than 'Poor Polly,' which is simply morbid. Let's fix on
'hallo.'"
"Good," said Mrs. Atherley.
Evangeline said nothing, being asleep under her blanket.
* * * * *
I was down first next morning, having forgotten to wind up my watch
overnight. Longing for company I took the blanket off Evangeline's
cage and introduced her to the world again. She stirred sleepily,
opened her eyes and blinked at me.
"Hallo, Evangeline," I said.
She made no reply.
Suddenly a splendid scheme occurred to me. I would teach Evangeline
her word now. How it would surprise the others when they came down and
said "Hallo" to her, to find themselves promptly answered back!
"Evangeline," I said, "listen. Hallo, hallo, hallo, hallo." I stopped
a moment and went on more slowly. "Hallo--hallo--hallo."
It was dull work.
"Hallo," I said, "hallo--hallo--hallo," and then very distinctly,
"Hal-_lo_."
Evangeline looked at me with an utterly bored face.
"Hallo," I said, "hallo--hallo."
She picked up a monkey nut and ate it languidly.
"Hallo," I went on, "hallo, hallo ... hallo, _hallo_, HALLO, HALLO ...
hallo, hallo--"
She dropped her nut and roused herself for a moment.
"Number engaged," she snapped, and took another nut.
* * * * *
You needn't believe this. The others didn't when I told them.
A.A.M.
* * * * *
From "Notes, Questions and Answers" in _T.P.'s Weekly_:--
"Author wanted, and where the whole poem can be found:--
"Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I'll not ask for wine."
C.E.H.
[Herrick. A collected edition of the poems is published by
J.M. Dent at 1s. net.--ED. N.Q.A.]"
Afterthought by ED. N.Q.A.: "At least I think it's HERRICK ... or
WORDSWORTH ... but wait till the Editor comes back from Algiers. He's
sure to know."
* * * * *
"Sir John Thornycroft kicked off in a football charity match
at Bembridge, Isle of Wight, in which the combined ages of the
players was 440 years."--_Hull Daily Mail_.
Why not?
* * * * *
"M. Timiriazeff, president of the Anglo-British Chamber of
Commerce, followed with a speech."--_Daily Telegraph_.
We like his Anglo-British name.
* * * * *
WINTER SPORTS.
[_Some additional aspects of the fashionable topic that
seem to have escaped the writers of similar articles in our
contemporaries_.]
(I.)--BUYING THE HOTEL.
For this game several players are required, who form themselves into
one or more parties according to numbers. A player, preferably a
woman, is selected as leader, and should possess nerve, coolness, and
an authoritative voice. The object of the game is to secure (1) The
best rooms; (2) Tables with a view; (3) The controlling interest in
all projects of entertainment. It is an important advantage for the
leader to have stayed in the hotel at least once previously. If she
is able to announce on arrival, "Here we are as usual!" and to greet
the proprietor and staff by name, this often gives an initial blow
exceedingly hard to parry. English visitors have been proving very
adept at the sport this season, with Americans a good second. The
German game, on the contrary, is slower and less subtle.
(II.)--SPOTTING THE PARSON.
An amusing game that has been very popular at many Swiss resorts
lately, and one that calls for the qualifications of a quick brain
and a keen eye. The universal adoption of sweaters and woollen
caps makes the task of the players one of considerable difficulty.
Envelope-reading should be forbidden by the rules, and some codes even
debar the offering of a _Church Times_ to a suspected stranger. The
_Athenaeum_ and _Spectator_ may, however, be freely employed as bait.
A simpler version of the same sport called "HOW MANY SCHOOLMASTERS?"
is often indulged in between December 20th and January 15th, after
which latter date it loses its point.
Other games, seldom chronicled but inquiring at least as much skill
from their votaries as the better known varieties, are EARLY MORNING
SKI-BAGGING--at which the Germans frequently carry all before
them--and PRESSING THE PRESS-PHOTOGRAPHER, where the object of all the
players is to appear recognizably in a snap-shot for the illustrated
journals. At this the record score of three weekly and five daily
papers has been held for two successive seasons by the same player, a
gentleman whose dexterity is the subject of universal admiration.
* * * * *
[Illustration: SCENE--_Interior of box at Fancy Dress Ball_.
_Host of Party_. "I SAY, BETTY, I WANT TO INTRODUCE YOU TO A CITY
FRIEND OF MINE, _MR. JONES_."
_Hostess_ (_hospitably_). "HOW D'YOU DO? OH, YOU'RE _AWFULLY_ GOOD!"
_Host_ (_sotto voce_). "TAKE CARE! HE'S NOT MADE UP AT ALL."]
* * * * *
THE WONDER ZOO.
Canada has evolved a novelty described as a "new beef animal," which
is a blend of the domestic cow and the North American bison. The
resulting prodigy has the ferocious hump and shoulders of the bison,
with the mildly benevolent face of the Herefordshire ox. It must
not, however, be supposed that the old country is behind-hand in such
experiments, as witness the following:--