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Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 152, June 27, 1917
Author: Various
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 152, June 27, 1917" ***

This book is indexed by ISYS Web Indexing system to allow the reader find any word or number within the document.

VOL. 152, JUNE 27, 1917***


PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

VOL. 152

JUNE 27TH, 1917



CHARIVARIA.

The favourite reading of the Sultan of TURKEY is said to be criminal
literature. A gift-book in the shape of a new Life of the KAISER is about
to be despatched to him.

* * *

KING ALEXANDER of Greece originally proclaimed that he would "carry out his
father's sacred mandate." But when it was pointed out to him that, if this
was really his desire, an opportunity of following in his father's
footsteps would doubtless be granted him, he tried again.

* * *

During the last air raid we are told that the employees of one large firm
started singing "Dixie Land." We feel, however, that to combat the enemy's
aircraft much sterner measures must be adopted.

* * *

"The Huns' diet is low," says a correspondent of _The Daily Mail_. But then
their tastes are low too.

* * *

Writing of the recent Trentino offensive, Mr. HAMILTON FYFE says that
several Austrian forts captured by the Italians were built of solid ice. It
is time that London had some defences of this character.

* * *

The arrival of ex-KING TINO at Lugubrioso, on the Swiss-Italian frontier,
has been duly noted.

* * *

The LORD MAYOR of London has decided in future to warn the City of
impending air raids. Ringing the dinner-bell at the Mansion House, it is
thought, is the best way of making City men take to their covers.

* * *

A new epidemic, of which "bodily swellings" are the first symptom, is
reported by the German papers. And just when the previous epidemic of
head-swellings was beginning to subside.

* * *

A Marylebone boy, arrested for forgery, told the police that he had made
two complete £1 notes out of paper bags. Is this the paper-bag cookery of
which we have heard so much?

* * *

A market gardener told the Enfield Tribunal that a conscientious objector
whom he had employed was found asleep at his work on two successive days.
People with highly-strung consciences very rarely enjoy this natural and
easy slumber.

* * *

The American scientist who claims to have invented a substitute for tobacco
cannot have followed the movement of the age. We have been able to obtain
twopenny cigars in this country for years.

* * *

An applicant who said he had six children has been given six months'
exemption. A member of the Tribunal remarked that the exemption would mean
one month for each child. This great discovery proved too much for the poor
fellow, who is said to have collapsed immediately.

* * *

A new ship is being fitted out for Captain AMUNDSEN, who is to proceed
shortly with an Arctic exploration party. In case he should discover any
new land, arrangements have been made to hold a flag-day for the
inhabitants, if any.

* * *

Judging by the latest reports the Stockholm Conference is like the gun that
they didn't know was loaded.

* * *

Because his wife accused him of not loving her, a farmer of Husavik,
Manitoba, assaulted her with a pen-knife just to show that he did.

* * *

Special "storm troops"--men picked for their youth, vigour and daring, to
carry out counter-attacks--are now a feature of the German Armies. Even our
ordinary British soldiers, who are constantly compelled to take these brave
fellows prisoners, bear witness to the ferocity of their appearance.

* * *

Taxes on watering-places, it is announced, will be a feature of the new
French Budget. It is feared that this will bear hardly on breweries and
dairies.

* * *

We are not permitted to publish the name of the Foreign Office official who
strolled into a Piccadilly Bar last week and ordered a Clam-Martinic
cocktail.

* * *

According to a report of the National Physical Laboratory the Tower of
London is moving towards the Thames. The hot weather is thought to have
something to do with it.

* * *

The Board of Agriculture advises the killing of all old cocks and hens.
Lively competition between the railway refreshment rooms and the tyre
factories should ensure a satisfactory price.

* * *

The High Court at the Hague has ordered a new trial in the case of the
Editor of the _Telegraaf_, who was sentenced for referring to "a group of
rascals in the centre of Europe." The rascality of the persons in question
is now deemed to be proved beyond the shadow of a doubt.

* * *

The announcement that there will be no more Sunday music at the Zoo has
been received with satisfaction by the more conservative residents, who
have always complained that the presence of a band tended to reduce the
place to the level of a mere circus.

* * *

A well-known inn at Effingham having changed its name from the Blücher to
the Sir Douglas Haig, it is further suggested that the name of the village
should be changed to Biffingham.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "AY, POOR OLD BEN'S ROOINED BY THE WAR. ALL 'IS YARNS WOS
ABOUT _ABOVE-SEA_ PIRATES!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

HOW TO CURE A WOUND.

"A wounded soldier jumped or fell from a passing S.E.R. Red Cross train
between Swanley Junction and Bromley to-day. The train was running at about
twenty miles an hour. When picked up the man was found to be uninjured."--
_Evening Paper._

       *       *       *       *       *

TITLE AND HALF-TITLE PAGES.

With a view to economy of paper, the title and half-title pages of the
Volume which is completed with the present issue are not being delivered
with copies of _Punch_ as hitherto; they will however be sent free, by
post, upon receipt of a request.

Those readers who have their Volumes bound at the _Punch_ Office, or by
other binders in the official binding-cases, will not need to apply for
copies of the title and half-title pages, as these will be bound in by the
_Punch_ Office or supplied direct to other binders along with the cases.

       *       *       *       *       *

ALGY.

Algy, it must be admitted, is no Adonis, but at least there is something in
his great round pudding-face and his cheery idiotic smile which gives one
the impression of a warm and optimistic nature.

Algy is humble and not ambitious; but for all that he is doing his bit,
just as you and I are doing. He never goes on strike, and if he had any
money, which he never does have, I know he would invest it in War Loan.
Above all he is not a food-hog; not for him the forbidden potato or the
millionaire's beer--no! Against all luxuries Algy has resolutely steeled
his voluminous tummy. He has turned into the strictest of teetotalers, and,
though a glass of Scotch may bring a wistful look into his eyes, yet he
remains captain of his soul, unbroken as ST. ANTHONY.

His job is war-work of the steeliest order, such as very few men would care
to undertake. All for the cause he stands, day after day, with a little
band of comrades, facing uncomplainingly the most terrible buffetings, so
that men may learn from him how to strike terror into the heart of the Hun.

Needless to remark, he is beloved by all the Tommies who inflict such pain
upon the region of his gaudy blue waistcoat; he never seems to care and
never grouses, but beams down on them undaunted with that quaint old grin
of his.

'Twas a great and solemn day when we installed him. Conspicuous by
his horrible suit of reach-me-downs, supported on one side by the
sergeant-major, on the other by the sergeant, he was led gently but firmly
out of his billet and initiated into his honourable task.

Algy has but one grievance. He wants badly to sport a few golden stripes on
his cuff. He is modest and does not push himself forward, but as he has
several times been severely wounded be thinks it only fair that he should
receive the coveted distinction. But the authorities will not grant his
simple request because, they say, he has shed no blood.

He has outlived all his compeers; lesser men may succumb but Algy goes on.
One day, I suppose, he will meet the common fate; but may that sorry day be
far ahead. For we could ill spare our Algy--our dear old bayonet dummy!

       *       *       *       *       *

    "INDIAN WAR LOAN.--The amount applied for in Rangoon yesterday was Rs.
    00,000, making the progressive total Rs. 00,00,000."--_Rangoon Times._

Nothing to boast about.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE BAN ON RACING.

Dear MR. PUNCH,--In this bitter controversy I hope that a few moderate and
impartial words from one, like myself, who sees clearly both sides of the
question, may not be out of place. In any case I feel it is incumbent upon
me to do all I can to avert the dire consequences of the frightful
catastrophe that has fallen upon us through the mad act of an insensate War
Cabinet. I can only say that if this is to be our spirit we are indeed
defeated. Where is our devotion to manly sports, so potent in the moulding
of our National character? What has become of our immemorial Right to Look
On? Where is our boasted liberty, deprived as we are now to be of a chance
to find the winner? What did WELLINGTON say of Waterloo? and MARLBOROUGH of
Blenheim? and BOTTOMLEY of the Battle of the Somme? By what perversity of
reasoning are we thus to asphyxiate the best instincts of our race?

We are said to be fighting for all that we hold sacred. Yet there is
nothing that is held more sacred in every cottage home throughout the land
than the Preservation of our Bloodstock. Let us not deceive ourselves. It
is our supremacy in Bloodstock alone that makes possible the governess car,
the milk van, the brewer's dray, the very plough itself. These are
fundamental facts.

It has been suggested that, in order to avoid the assembling of frivolous
crowds in war-time, races might be run in private. But that is quite
impracticable. Only on the public racecourse can the lofty virtues of our
British Bloodstock be displayed. The exciting presence of the crowd is
absolutely essential to tune up its nerve and temper. Already our
Bloodstock has suffered cruelly from gaps in the Grand Stand.

Then again there are some who actually complain that petrol is consumed in
large quantities by those attending race meetings. Are we to put new heart
into our enemies by letting it be known that we are short of petrol?

And finally there are some who so little understand the qualities of the
Thoroughbred as to suggest that gambling should be stopped in war-time. The
horse, unlike the Cabinet, is intelligent. Can he be expected to exhibit
his priceless qualities of speed and stamina if no one puts his money up?

I need say no more. Such flippant legislation is bad enough at any time;
during the Armageddon period it is little short of treason. One wonders
when our Government will begin to realise that we are at war.

  I am,
  Yours helpfully, as usual,
  STATISTICIAN.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE DIARY OF A CO-ORDINATOR.

_June 17th._--Flew in an aeroplane to Los Angeles and correlated the
industrial functions of the East and West. Returned to the White House for
dinner, and co-ordinated grape juice with lemonade and Perrier.

_June 18th._--Breakfasted with HEARST and co-ordinated him for half-an-hour
with the editor of _New York Life_, a task needing the highest diplomatic
qualities. Flew to Harvard and delivered lecture on Mr. BALFOUR'S Theology
as correlated with his style in golf. A great reception. Despatched report
by wireless to London, Paris and Petrograd. Returned to New York in the
afternoon and co-ordinated UPTON SINCLAIR, Colonel ROOSEVELT, TUMULTY and
CHARLES DANA GIBSON.

_June 19th._--In the morning dictated articles for the _Novoe Vremya_,
_Matin_ and _Corriere della Sera_, emphasizing the need of co-operative
cosmopolitan co-ordination. Flew to Chicago to deliver supplementary
lecture to that given by ARTHUR BALFOUR on ARISTOTLE. Took for my subject
"Aerial Trade Routes, as co-ordinated with Terra-firma Routes for
Motor-lorries." Enthusiastic reception. Co-ordinative cold collation at 9
P.M. at Philadelphia with GOMPERS, ROCKEFELLER, Mrs. ATHERTON and BILLY
SUNDAY.

_June 20th._--Dictated article on the New Diplomacy for _The New York
Journal_. In the afternoon co-ordinated the tenets of Shin-Toism, Christian
Science and Mormonism. A heavy day.

_June 21st._--Much annoyed by report of CURZON'S extraordinary speech in
the House of Lords. Called at the White House and the British Embassy to
put matters right, and sent wireless to CURZON: "Nothing 'succeeds' like
success."

       *       *       *       *       *

    "'Another medical certificate, Sir; you can't read them,' remarked a
    solicitor to the chairman at the Devon Appeal Tribunal (Exeter Panel),
    as he sought to decipher the hand- [Inverted: writing on one of those
    documents. Previously in the day a certificate had been handed to
    Lieutenant Stirling with the remark, 'You won't be able to read it.'
    The] resourceful military representative, however, thought he might
    succeed, and made the attempt."--_Exeter Express and Echo._

Standing on his head, we suppose.

       *       *       *       *       *

Extract from a report of a sermon by Father BERNARD VAUGHAN:--

    "They might as well go on to one of the main lines and attempt to stop
    one of the engines gorging from Euston to Edinburgh."--_Express and
    Echo_ (_Exeter_).

Perhaps it would be wiser to refer the matter to the FOOD-CONTROLLER.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A GOOD RIDDANCE.

(The KING has done a popular act in abolishing the German titles held by
members of His Majesty's family.) ]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Bluejacket_ (_on torpedo-boat that has only just avoided
collision with a neutral steamer_). "I KNOW YOU LOVE ME, ALFONSO, BUT
THERE'S NO BLINKIN' NEED TO TRY AND KISS ME EVERY TIME WE MEET."]

       *       *       *       *       *

JUST SAILORS.

Betty, having made an excellent breakfast, thank you, slipped from her
chair and sidled round the table to me. Her father's guests are, naturally
and without exception, Betty's slaves, to do with as she deems best. To her
they are known, regardless of age, either by their Christian names or as
"Mr. --er." I had enjoyed the privilege of her acquaintance for five years,
but was still included in the second category.

Betty has an appealing eye, freckles, and most fascinating red-gold hair,
and on the morning of which I write, after preparing the attack with the
first, she gently massaged my face with the second and third, the while
insinuating into my own a small hand not innocent of marmalade. Betty is
seven or thereabouts. "Mr. --er," she said, "what shall we be to-day?"

"Let us," I replied hastily, "pretend to be not quite at our best this
morning, and have a quiet time in the deck-chairs on the lawn." Betty very
naturally paid no regard whatever to this cowardly suggestion.

"I'm not quite sure," she said, "if we will be pirates or soldiers or just
sailors. What do you think?"

Pirates sounded rather strenuous for so hot a day. Soldiers, I felt sure,
involved my becoming a German prisoner and parading the garden paths with
my arms up, crying "Kamerad!" while Betty, gun in hand, shepherded and
prodded me from behind. Just sailors, on the other hand, smacked of gentle
sculling exercise in the dinghy on the lake, so I said, "Let's be just
sailors."

But a sailor's life, as interpreted by Betty, is no rest cure. On land it
includes an exaggerated rolling gait--itself somewhat fatiguing--and
intervals of active participation in that most exacting dance, the
hornpipe, to one's own whistling accompaniment. At odd moments, also, it
appears that the best sailors double briskly to such melodies as
"Tipperary" and "Keep the Home Fires Burning."

It was only when we arrived by the lake-side that Betty observed my
gumboots; instantly a return to the house in search of Daddy's nautical
footgear was necessitated. This, though generous in dimensions, was finally
induced to remain in position on Betty's small feet, her own boots being,
of course, retained.

The dinghy was launched and, after a little preliminary wading in the
gum-boots, the crew embarked. Betty's future profession will, I am sure, be
that of quick-change artist. In less than ten minutes she had risen from
cabin-boy to skipper, _viâ_ ordinary seaman, A.B., bo'sun and various
grades of mate. My rank, which had at the outset been that of admiral, as
speedily declined, until I was merely the donkey-engine greaser, whose
duties appeared to include that of helmsman (Betty is not yet an adept with
two sculls).

Our vessel also changed its character with lightning rapidity. It was in
turn a ferry-boat--imitation of passengers descending the gangway by
rhythmical patting of hand on thwart; a hospital ship chased by a
submarine--cormorant's neck and head naturally mistaken for periscope; a
destroyer attacking a submarine--said cormorant kindly obliging with quick
diving act when approached; a food-ship laden with bananas represented by
rushes culled from the banks; and a smuggler running cargoes of French wine
contained in an elderly empty bottle discovered in the mud above high-water
mark. It was breathless work.

The disaster occurred when Betty, against my maturer judgment, insisted
upon the exploration on foot of a mangrove swamp on the shore of a
cannibal-infested South Sea island. The immediate cause was a suddenly
developed attachment on the part of one of Daddy's sea-boots to the mud on
the lake-side. The twain refused to be parted, and the youthful explorer
measured her length in the mire.

Generously overlooking my carelessness in not warning her that we were
traversing a quicksand, Betty, rather shaken, very muddy and with a
suspicion of tears in her voice, bound me by a blood-curdling nautical oath
not to breathe a word of the mishap to Mummy, Daddy or Miss Watt, her
governess. The pledge having been given, Betty, the offending boots
discarded, fled to her own room by way of the back-door.

It was then twelve o'clock, and in the hour that remained before luncheon I
was fertile in excuses for Betty's absence from the scene; in fact, the
necessity for concealing the calamity quite marred what should have been a
time of well-earned relaxation.

At last we sat down to the midday meal, and the members of the house-party
began to relate their morning's adventures. Finally some thoughtless person
said, "Well, Betty, and what mischief have you been up to?"

Betty, quite recovered and with a radiant smile, replied, "Oh, Mr. --er and
I had a scrumptious time on the lake. We were sailors--just sailors--and
did all sorts of lovely things, didn't we, Mr. --er?"

I agreed, and Betty went on to her peroration:

"And at the very end Mr. --er was a tiger and I was a little small boy, and
he jumped on me out of the bushes and knocked me down in the mud" [O Betty!
O unjust sailor!], "and Miss Watt came in as I was changing my things. It
_was_ splendid, wasn't it--Reggie?"

_Per ardua ad astra._ I had won my promotion to the commissioned ranks of
the Christian names.

       *       *       *       *       *

WIMMIN.

  Behind wi' the sowin',
    An' rent-day to meet,
  For first time o' knowin'
    John Buckham was beat;
  Torpedoed an' swimmin'
    An' fairly done in,
  When someone said, "Wimmin
    Would suit ye at Lynn."

  Dal Midwood, at Mutcham,
    Who runs by old rules,
  Said, "John, don't 'ee touch em--
    A pa'sel o' fules
  Aye dabbin' an' trimmin'
    Wi' powder an' pin;
  No, don't 'ee have wimmin,
    John Buckham, at Lynn."

  Well, back wi' the sowin',
    An' rent-day to meet,
  I had to get goin'
    Or own I were beat.
  The banks needed trimmin';
    The roots wasn't in;
  'Twas either take wimmin
    Or walk out o' Lynn.

  They came. They was pretty
    An' white o' the hand,
  But good-heart an' gritty
    An' chockful o' sand;
  Wi' energy brimmin'
    Right up to the chin--
  An' that sort o' wimmin
    Was welcome at Lynn.

  At ploughin' they're able,
    Or drainin' a fen,
  They'll muck out a stable
    As well as the men.
  Their praises I'm hymnin',
    For where would ha' bin,
  If it weren't for the wimmin,
    John Buckham, at Lynn?

W.H.O.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Mrs Green. to Mrs. Jones_ (_who is gazing at an
aeroplane_). "MY WORD! I SHOULDN'T CARE FOR ONE OF _THEM_ FLYING THINGS TO
SETTLE ON ME."]

       *       *       *       *       *

    "The Cairo Governorate has engaged white-washers to whiten plate-forms
    of points from which streets branch which will be compelled by the end
    of next week, before the commencement of the gaz lanterns decrease take
    place."--_Egyptian Gazette._

The Sphinx has been requested to furnish an explanation.

       *       *       *       *       *

OUR INDOMITABLES.

"THE ENGLISH GIRL.

"STANDING IN WITNESS-BOX WITHOUT A QUIVER.

    "Rose ----, sixty-seven, ---- road, South Tottenham, a young girl, was
    a witness in a London county court when the boom of guns and detonation
    of bombs were heard."--_Daily Paper._

Our English girls to-day are only as old as they feel.

       *       *       *       *       *

    "Mrs. A. Thomson writes a vigorous protest against the carelessness
    with which the W.F.L. resolution urging the Prime Minister to make
    Woman Suffrage an integral part of the Bill, was acknowledged on his
    behalf. The acknowledgment was as follows:--

    "'I am directed by the Prime Minister to acknowledge the receipt of the
    resolution which you have forwarded on the subject of the formation of
    a Maternity Department in the new Ministry of Health.'"--_The Vote._

But was it carelessness, or humour?

       *       *       *       *       *

HEART-TO-HEART TALKS.

    (_Herr Schultze and Herr Müller, privates in a Prussian regiment of
    Infantry._)

_Schultze._ Leave will soon be over now and we shall have to go back to the
fighting.

_Müller._ Yes; it is not a very cheerful prospect.

_Schultze._ No; that is a very true saying. And, what is more, there seems
no possible end to this War, though (_dropping his voice and looking
round_) we all hate it from the bottom of our hearts.

_Müller._ Yes, we all hate it. Indeed the hatred between me and the War
gets worse and worse every day. I don't care who hears me.

_Schultze._ Don't be too bold; one never knows who may be listening.

_Müller._ It is to become mad. Why did we ever let the ALL-HIGHEST MAJESTY
begin such a war? We were all so comfortable, and then suddenly the
Austrian ARCHDUKE gets himself murdered and, piff-paff, we Germans must go
to war against Russia and France and England. I am very sorry for the
ARCHDUKE, but there were other Archdukes to supply his place, and even if
there had not been I do not think he himself was worth the four millions of
killed, wounded and prisoners whom we have lost since the guns began to go
off.

_Schultze._ It is terrible to think of. And the sausages get worse and
worse, and the beer costs more and more and is not like beer at all.

_Müller._ And the English have good guns and plenty of them, and know
colossally well how to use them; and they have millions of men--more than
we have; and their soldiers are brave--almost as brave as our own soldiers.
They have certainly won some victories, it seems.

_Schultze._ So it seems; but our Generals have not told us much about it.

_Müller._ And we all thought they had only a contemptible little army.

_Schultze._ Yes, that was what the ALL-HIGHEST said.

_Müller._ The ALL-HIGHEST has also said several times that our soldiers
would be back in their homes before the leaves fell from the trees, and
here are you and I doomed to go away from our homes in the third year of
the war. It would be better, I think, if the ALL-HIGHEST did not always
speak so much and tried honestly to bring us a good solid peace.

_Schultze_ (_with a deep sigh_). Peace? I do not think we shall ever have
peace again. And the winning of victories seems to push it always further
away from us. At that rate what is the use of victories?

_Müller._ Then you don't believe that the U-boats can starve England into
surrender?

_Schultze._ Certainly I don't. Do you know anyone that does believe in that
fairy story? All that the U-boats have really effected up to the present
has been to bring in America on the side of our enemies.

_Müller._ That doesn't matter. The Americans have no army.

_Schultze._ Wasn't that what we said about the English? You yourself said
it as loudly as anyone else at the beginning.

_Müller._ The fact is this War has gone on too long. A war for six weeks,
that one can endure; but when it goes on for years--

_Schultze._ Yes, that is not so pleasant, though the KAISER is always
talking about hacking through and having an iron fist and being a wall of
steel and other things of that sort.

_Müller._ Oh, he! I'm tired to death of his speeches and his prancing
about. Again I say I don't care who hears me. We have done enough for
glory; isn't there something we can do for peace?

_Schultze._ No, nothing--and you know it. It is more likely we shall end in
prison if we talk like this.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "I WARN YOU, SIR! THE DISCOURTESY OF THIS BANK IS BEYOND ALL
LIMITS. ONE WORD MORE AND I--I WITHDRAW MY OVERDRAFT."]

       *       *       *       *       *

"NAVAL APPOINTMENTS.

"ROYAL NAVAL RESERVE.

    "Mr. J.R. MACDONALD entered as Skipper (temp.)"--_The Times._

If this is how the Government hopes to get the Member for Leicester to
Petrograd there is still the difficulty of enlisting a crew (temp.)

       *       *       *       *       *

    "Successful raids were carried out by us during the night east of
    Lagnicourt (two or three metres south of Bullecourt)."--_Evening Times
    and Echo._

For the sake of precision we could have wished that the measurement had
been worked out to inches.

       *       *       *       *       *

    "Thousands on foot and in every kind of vehicle visited the grisly
    relic. A Sunday school teacher marched the girls of her class to the
    place. Some 80ft. of her nose-end is stuck aslant in the air."--_Daily
    Mail._

Not every woman is so well-equipped for showing contempt of the enemy.

       *       *       *       *       *

    "Wanted, Coachman-Chauffeur, 'Over-land' Car (Protestant), over
    military age."--_Londonderry Sentinel._

Whatever its religion a car of this age must be almost past praying for.

       *       *       *       *       *

    "The sort of women who literally make ducks and drakes of their duty as
    the family administrator."--_Spectator._

Having regard to the high price of poultry might not the new
Food-Controller get these women to explain how they do it?

       *       *       *       *       *

THE BUFFER'S VINDICATION.

  I haven't fought, I haven't dug, I've worn no special caps,
    Too little has my country, sure, had from me;
  _But_ I've never talked of "strafe-ing" anyone for any lapse,
    And I've never called a fighting man a "Tommy."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Old Soldier_ (_trying to "swing the lead"_). "WELL, SIR, I
CAN'T NEITHER EAT, SLEEP NOR DRINK, SIR."

_M.O._ (_in a spasm of enthusiasm_). "MY GOOD MAN! THE ARMY WANTS A
BATTALION LIKE YOU!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE WATCH DOGS.

LXII.

MY DEAR CHARLES,--I've become so artful these days in disguising identities
under assumed names that I'm hanged if I can remember myself which of my
people is which. Still I daresay your own memory isn't too good, so we'll
call him Ross this time, and trust to luck that that is what we called him
last time. He is that one of my friends and fellow sinners who was plugging
along nicely at the Bar in 1914, and was just about to take silk, when he
changed his mind, came to France and got mixed up in what he calls "this
vulgar brawl on the Continent." After nearly three years of systematic
warfare in the second line he has at last achieved the rank of full
lieutenant, which is not so bad for a growing lad of forty-five; and is
running one of those complicated but fascinating side-shows which, to
oblige Their Exigencies, we have to label Queer Trades, and leave at that.

Whether his department is or is not making history it is certainly one
which calls for a vast amount of special knowledge in its _personnel_.
Ross, having been at the Bar, knows nothing and knows that he knows
nothing, but is able to pretend to know just enough to keep his end up with
Thos. J. Brown, who, disguised as a corporal, really runs the business.
"Our Mr. Brown," as Ross calls him, is one of those nice old gentlemen who
wear large spectacles and cultivate specialist knowledge on the intensive
system. Owing to his infallibility in all details and upon all occasions he
was much sought after in peace time by the larger commercial houses. When
War broke out our Mr. Brown disdained peace. He made at once for the Front;
but his aged legs, though encased in quite the most remarkable puttees in
France, were found to be less reliable than his head, and he was held up on
his way to the trenches and diverted to the stool of Ross's office.

He began by putting some searching and dreadfully intelligent questions to
Ross; dissatisfied with Ross's answers, he concentrated his mind on the
business for twenty-four consecutive hours, at the end of which period he
was the master of it in more senses than one. Since that time Ross has
ensured the efficient running of his office by keeping out of it when it is
busy. When for appearance sake he has to be there he does as his Mr. Brown
tells him, and never wastes the latter's time by arguing.

In the Army, all fleas have bigger fleas upon their backs to bite 'em. Were
this not so somebody would have to act upon his own responsibility, and
that, as you will admit, would make war an impossibility. Accordingly in
every department there is a series of authorities, starting with "other
ranks" at the bottom, proceeding in an ascending scale of dignity and
worth, and disappearing through a cloud of Generals into an infinite of
which no man knoweth the nature. Thus, with Ross's business (to take the
tail end of it) the letter which the Corporal writes the Lieutenant signs
on behalf of the Major. It is when the Major wants to do something more
active that trouble arises. Let us take an incidental matter of
administrative detail for example, setting it forth, as all military
matters should be set forth, in paragraphs, separately numbered:--

1. Lt. Ross possessed a bicycle, motor, one. No. 54321 L/Cpl. Burt
possessed feet, two, only. Ross had no occasion, ability or disposition to
ride a motor bicycle. No. 54321 could neither do his business nor enjoy
life afoot. Accordingly, No. 54321 rode the bicycle, while, for the
purposes of what is known to better people than ourselves as Establishment,
Ross owned it. But that was in the good old days, before Traffic and Police
and all the Others interested themselves.

2. The first thing Traffic did was to say that all owners of motor bicycles
must own cards, and produce them when demanded. That was easy: No. 54321
got the card. Then Police issued some vague but menacing literature with
regard to the fate of people who stole other people's property or failed to
stick to their own. There was no difficulty about this; Ross publicly
fathered the thing.

3. Traffic, issuing new cards, said next that all owners of cards must also
own bicycles. Realising the quandary, Ross was for saying he wouldn't play
any more, but would declare a separate peace. His Mr. Brown however got up
a long and intricate correspondence, at the end of which Ross was still
owner and No. 54321 was still rider; both had cards, and all the
authorities had, unknowingly, made themselves parties to the fraud.

Suddenly the Major declared his intention of putting the whole of Ross's
establishment (including bicycle) on what he called a satisfactory basis by
a series of orders which he proposed to draft himself. Ross, always ready
to be put on a satisfactory basis by anybody, took note of the draft, and
laid it before his Mr. Brown. The latter was aghast, and proved, by
infallible reasons, the fatal results which would follow if the matter was
stirred up. Ross made a careful note of the reasons, and laid them before
the Major. The Major explained gently that discipline was discipline. And
so Ross went to and fro between the two, until the Major said, "Really,
Ross!" and his Mr. Brown said, "I'm very sorry, Sir, but there it is;" and
yet Ross couldn't sack his Major, and he couldn't break away from his Mr.
Brown.

He was between the Devil and the Deep Sea. What was he to do about it?
Well, he just told the Deep Sea to keep calm a little longer, and went and
waited outside the Devil's Mess. He saluted and asked the Devil if he'd
care to come for a walk, and, the latter consenting, he led him to the Deep
Sea. Then, when the Devil himself had been introduced to the Deep Sea
itself, Ross slipped off and left them in his office to fix it up between
themselves.

Ross dined with the Major that night, and the latter said he wasn't feeling
at all well. The way Ross's Mr. Brown had licked his thumb and the
lightning speed with which he had turned up exactly the right
correspondence, office minute or Routine Order, had nearly given the Major
heart disease. Besides, he'd lost the argument. "I was too heavily
handicapped from the start," said he, "by not being in a position to lick
_my_ thumb or to stick _my_ pencil behind my ear."

It was a good idea to introduce the Major and Mr. Brown, wasn't it,
Charles? The Major says he was the first to suggest it, and Ross is careful
to leave the credit with the Major, because he is sure that the idea really
originated in the fertile and masterful brain of his Mr. Brown.

Yours ever,

HENRY.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: MISS DAISY DIMPLE, THE REVUE FAVOURITE, SELLS FLAGS.]

       *       *       *       *       *

ANOTHER IMPENDING APOLOGY.

From a South African Parish Magazine:--

    "Many thanks to the Rev. ---- and the Rev. ---- for coming to St. ----
    during the past month. The Rector went off to Clifton and Park Town,
    and enjoyed the change almost as much as the congregation."

       *       *       *       *       *

    "A bird flew into Willesden Court yesterday and perched above the
    magistrate's head.

    "Alderman Pinkham: 'It's not often we 'get the bird' on the bench.'"

But the "Beak" is there all the time.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS: LATEST INVERSION.

{CONSERVATISM, LIBERALISM, LABOUR.}
"DON'T FORGET, DEAR LADY, WHEN THE TIME COMES, THAT IT
WAS _I_ WHO GAVE YOU THE APPLE."]

       *       *       *       *       *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

_Monday, June 18th._--Arising out of the dethronement of TINO a cloud-burst
of questions descended upon Lord ROBERT CECIL, who took refuge under a
wide-spreading umbrella of official ignorance. Mr. LYNCH was annoyed
because his question whether the Allies would oppose the foundation of a
Greek Republic was dismissed as "hypothetical," but Lord ROBERT assured him
that there was "nothing abusive" in the epithet. But is that so? Suppose he
were to describe Mr. LYNCH as a "hypothetical statesman"?

A detailed history of a Canterbury lamb, from its purchase in New Zealand
at 6-3/8_d._ a pound to its sale to the British butcher at 10-1/2_d._, was
given by Mr. GEORGE ROBERTS. He threw no light, however, on the problem why
it should double in price before reaching the consumer. This is engaging
the anxious consideration of Lord RHONDDA, who declares that there is no
adequate economic reason why Little Mary should have only a little lamb.

In the House of Commons as in a music-hall you can always get a laugh by
referring to "the lodger." Whether the lodger, who is considered quite good
enough to vote for a mere Member of Parliament, should also be allowed a
voice in the election of really important people like town councillors was
the theme of animated discussion. It ended ultimately in the lodger's
favour, with the proviso that the apartments he occupies should be
unfurnished. On such niceties does the British Constitution depend.

_Tuesday, June 19th._--Mr. BALFOUR received a warm welcome from all
sections of the House on making his first appearance after his return from
America. Even the ranks of Tuscany, on the Irish benches, could not forbear
to cheer their old opponent. Besides securing American gold for his
country, he has transferred some American bronze to his own complexion, and
has, if anything, sharpened his faculty for skilful evasion and polite
repartee by his encounters with Transatlantic journalists.

In the course of the daily catechism on the subject of air-raids Mr.
MACMASTER inquired, "Why is it that Paris appears to be practically immune,
while London is not?" The answer came, not from the Front Bench, but from
the Chair, and was delivered in a tone so low that even the Official
Reporter failed to catch it. That is a pity, because it furnishes a useful
hint for Ministers. In future, when posed with futile or embarrassing
questions about the War, let them follow the SPEAKER'S example, and simply
say, "You must ask the KAISER!"

[Illustration: THE BETTER PART OF VALOUR.

_Sir Frederick Smith._ "WHAT'S THE GOOD OF STRUGGLING?"]

[Illustration: _Literary Dame_ (_at bookstall_). "HAVE YOU ANY BOOKS BY
THAT RISING YOUNG NOVELIST, LORD HUGH CECIL?".]

In a perfectly free division, in which Ministers and ex-Ministers were
mixed up together in both Lobbies, woman's right to be registered as a
Parliamentary elector was affirmed by 385 votes to 55. Some capital
speeches were made on both sides, but if any of them turned a vote it was
probably the cynical admission of the ATTORNEY-GENERAL that he was as much
opposed to female suffrage as ever, but meant to vote for it because it was
bound to come. This probably had an even greater effect upon the average
Member, who is not an idealist, than the nutshell novelette in which Lord
HUGH CECIL lightly outlined the possible future of the female politician.

_Wednesday, June 20th._--Military metaphors come naturally to the Duke of
MARLBOROUGH. Yet I cannot think he was happily inspired when, in reminding
the farmers of their duty to put more land under the plough, he compared
the compulsory powers of the Board of Agriculture to a sword in its
scabbard, and hoped there would be no necessity to rattle it. Everybody
knows that the sword in question is a converted ploughshare, and that it
rests with the War Office to turn it back again.

Last night fifty-five Members resisted Votes for Women. By this afternoon
twenty-five of them had so far changed their minds as to protest against
the limitation of the privilege to women over thirty. Major ROWLAND HUNT,
convinced that women would soon vote themselves into the House, expressed a
naïve preference for "young 'uns."

_Thursday, June 21st._--During Sir EDWARD GREY'S long tenure of the Foreign
Secretaryship he rarely visited the House of Commons more than twice a
week. Until his voyage to the United States, Mr. BALFOUR was even less
attentive to his Parliamentary duties and left most of the "donkey-work"--
if one may so describe the business of answering the questions of curious
Members--to Lord ROBERT CECIL. Since his return Mr. BALFOUR has developed a
new zest for this pastime, and to-day for the third time in succession
appeared in his place. Everybody is pleased to see him there, except
perhaps the curious Members aforesaid, who find him even more chary of
information than his deputy. Had not the PRESIDENT of the United States
said something about Alsace-Lorraine? ventured Corporal LEES-SMITH. Mr.
BALFOUR, fresh from the White House, blandly replied, "I do not propose to
discuss President WILSON'S Notes."

The notion, prevalent at the beginning of the War, that every German waiter
was an emissary of the KAISER, only awaiting "The Day" when he should
return to take a full revenge for meagre gratuities, still subsists in
certain minds. Mr. BROOKES was manifestly disappointed when Dr. MACNAMARA
assured him that the aeronaut captured in the recent raid was not, as he
supposed, one of these returned Ganymedes, but was making his first
appearance on English soil.

       *       *       *       *       *

    "A small fire at a variety theatre burnt some dresses all up, but the
    revue went on as usual."--_Berrow's Worcester Journal._

No need to worry over little things like that.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Long-suffering Sergeant._ "WE GOT ANOTHER ARF-HOUR TO GO
YET. _I_ DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH YER."

_Rookie_ (_suggestively_). "THERE'S SOME TREES OVER THERE, SERGEANT."

_Sergeant._ "YES, I KNOW. BUT THERE AIN'T ANY ROPES."]

       *       *       *       *       *

TO FIELD-MARSHAL SIR DOUGLAS HAIG.

JUNE 19TH, 1917.

  Sir, though in dealing with the strong and straight
    Of sentiment one cannot be too thrifty,
  Still, after reading your despatch--the date
    Chimes with your birthday, _ætat_ six-and-fifty--
  A humble rhymer, though denied by fate
    Possession of the high poetic "giftie,"
  May yet express the hope it won't displease you
  To see yourself as one plain person sees you.

  Some call you cold, because you are not prone
    To bursts of eloquence or flights of feeling;
  You do not emulate the fretful tone
    Of those who turn from boastfulness to squealing;
  Your temperament, I am obliged to own,
    Is not expansive, Celtic, self-revealing;
  But some of us admire you none the less
  For your laconic simple truthfulness.

  No doubt you would provide far better "copy"
    To the industrious drivers of the quill
  If you were more emotional and sloppy,
    More richly dowered with journalistic skill;
  To make despatches blossom like the poppy
    You never have essayed and never will;
  In short, you couldn't earn a pound a week
  As a reporter on _The Daily Shriek_.

  Frugal in speech, yet more than once impelled
    To utter words of confidence and cheer,
  Whereat some dismal publicists rebelled
    As premature, ill-founded, insincere--
  Words none the less triumphantly upheld
    By Victory's verdict, resonantly clear,
  Words that inspired misgiving in the foe
  Because you do not prophesy--you _know_;

  Steadfast and calm, unmoved by blame or praise,
    By local checks or Fortune's strange caprices,
  You dedicate laborious nights and days
    To shattering the Hun machine to pieces;
  And howsoe'er at times the battle sways
    The Army's trust in your command increases;
  Patient in preparation, swift in deed,
  We find in you the leader that we need.

       *       *       *       *       *

    "The temperature in Berlin yesterday was 131 degrees Centigrade, which
    is the highest temperature since 1848."--_Daily Dispatch._

Equal to about 268 degrees Fahr. and quite hot enough to keep the Imperial
Potsdam boiling.

       *       *       *       *       *

    "A correspondent who knows a great deal about the coat trade says there
    is going to be great difficulty in obtaining coal during the coming
    winter."--_Torquay Times._

This will confirm the belief that the shortage of fuel is not unassociated
with the vested interests.

       *       *       *       *       *

    "We, on the other hand, are just as much entitled, under any sane code
    of morals, to bombard Kerman towns as to shoot German soldiers on the
    field."--_The Globe._

We think, however, that the inhabitants of these Persian towns might
reasonably object to such vicarious reprisals.

       *       *       *       *       *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks._)

Our moorland novelists are of two schools. One of them depicts the dwellers
on these heights as a superior race, using a vocabulary half Biblical, half
minor-poetic, in which to express the most exalted sentiments; the other
draws a picture of upland domesticity comparable to that found in a cage of
hyenas. Mr. HALLIWELL SUTCLIFFE, though he is too skilled an artist to
overdo the colouring, inclines (I am bound to say) so much towards the
former method that I confess to an uneasy doubt, at times, whether any
human families could maintain existence on the same plane of nobility as,
for example, the _Holts_ in his latest romance, _Lonesome Heights_ (WARD,
LOCK). These _Holts_ were a race of farmer-squires, and in the book you see
their development through two generations: the masterful old man and his
twin sons. This is all the tale; a simple enough record, but full of the
dignity and beauty which make the reading of any story by this author a
refreshment to irritated nerves. Towards the end some space is devoted to
the fight to abolish child-labour in the dale mills; there is also a
scandal, and the fastening of blame upon the wrong brother; no very great
matter. It is for such scenes as that of the death of old _Holt_, and his
last words to the horse that has thrown him, that _Lonesome Heights_ will
earn its place on your library list.

       *       *       *       *       *

_The Dice of the Gods_ (HEATH, CRANTON) is not, as the title suggests,
something rather thrilling in the way of romantic fiction, but one of those
dispassionate novels in which the author, through the medium of his
puppets, gently scourges the follies of society. _William van der Beck_,
whose fictional house of clay very obviously clothes the spiritual essence
of the author, Mr. LUCIAN DE ZILWA, returns to his native Colombo with a
liberal education, to find that the life and thought of the strange
Indo-European bourgeoisie to which he belongs by birth present no alluring
features. In point of fact the ambitions and hypocrisies, pretences and
prejudices of the Cingalese "burgher" with the tell-tale finger-nails are
merely those of Bristol or Amsterdam evolved under Colonial conditions.
_Jack van der Beck_, for example, the pompous medical ass with a
flourishing practice among the local nabobs, can be found in every
provincial town in Europe. _The Dice of the Gods_ has no plot worthy of the
name, but Mr. DE ZILWA has both satire and philosophy at his command, and a
flair for atmosphere. His scenery and "props" too will be new even to the
most hardened novel-reader. He paints a vivid Oriental background with
which the semi-Western civilization of his characters alternately blends
and contrasts rather effectively.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mr. TRESIDDER SHEPPARD'S _The Quest of Ledgar Dunstan_ (DUCKWORTH) is one
of those half-sequels of which, while it remains true that You Can Start
Here, you will get a better grip with some previous knowledge of the
earlier story about the same people. Not that your hold upon the present
book will, even then, be other than slightly precarious. For my own part I
seldom met anything so elusive. I freely grant that it is original,
thoughtful and provocative, but the effect it produces is rather like that
of _Jaberwocky_ upon _Alice_ ("It fills me with ideas, only I don't know
what they are!"). At first one seemed in for a comedy of disillusion.
_Ledgar_ and _Mary_, united, are met with in the process of living
unhappily ever after. This is clear enough, human (unfortunately) and
amusing. It was, for one thing, _Mary's_ habit of misquotation that got
upon _Ledgar's_ nerves. "Alas, poor Garrick!" was one of her typical
lapses. Nor was _Ledgar_ himself more of a success with _Mary_, who found
him (and here my sympathies went over to her) lacking in force and
coherence. But as _Mary_ eloped with somebody else at the end of part one
she hadn't my prolonged experience of _Ledgar's_ incomprehensibility. Nor
did the question of his semi-lunatic friend worry her, or the whole problem
of what, if anything, was the motive of the book. Eventually he is shown
pairing off with his earlier love, _Winnie_; and I am bound to say that she
too has my sympathy. I should sum up by saying that the analysis of
introspective egotism, however subtly done, can make at best only an
exasperating story.

       *       *       *       *       *

In _By the Waters of Africa_ (ROBERT SCOTT) Miss NORMA LORIMER has
described her British East African travels in a series of letters, in which
she shows a very real sense of style and a delightful assumption of her own
unimportance. To people suffering from the books of travellers who seem
more anxious to air themselves than to give impressions of the countries
through which they have passed, it will be a pure relief to find an author
who suppresses herself and really gets on with her business. Thanks to her
friends, whose kindness she frankly acknowledges, Miss LORIMER was able to
see native life under conditions impossible to a less privileged traveller,
and she misses no feature in it that is either humorous or enlightening. It
is a model book of its kind, valuable up to a certain point and always
pleasant to read. Some of the author's adventures might easily have excused
a reckless use of notes of exclamation. But only once does she give way to
this weakness, and this I pardon her, for I should always use one myself on
the eve of starting for the Mountains of the Moon.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: NEW SPORTS FOR OLD.

SNAIL-STALKING IN THE SUBURBS.]

       *       *       *       *       *

FOR THE HONEYMOON?

    "Lady wants quiet summer accommodation; near bees."--_Scotsman._

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: Epilogue]

MR. PUNCH IN RUSSIA.

In the last Epilogue, where Mr. Punch was described as paying a call upon
our brave soldiers in a German prison-camp, I confessed that I didn't
understand how he got there in the body. To-day I have to report a far
simpler enterprise. This time he has merely been on a mission to Russia.
Anybody can do that, unless the Sailors' and Firemen's Union mistake him
for Mr. RAMSAY MACDONALD and no one has yet made this error in respect of
Mr. Punch.

His brilliant mastery of the Russian language is a harder thing to believe;
but, as nothing is said of an interpreter, I must suppose that he had been
quietly and painfully taking lessons in this very difficult tongue. Anyhow,
you must picture him, at some spot not specified, addressing a concourse of
enthusiastic Revolutionaries. I propose to give a brief summary of his
speech, from which you will gather that he spoke to them like a father, and
that, while he showed a cordial sympathy with the cause of Russian freedom,
he did not hesitate to deliver himself of some very straight home-truths.

"Friends, Russians, Allies," he began; "I come on behalf of my
fellow-countrymen" (you know his touching way of regarding himself as the
medium of the best intelligence to be found in the British Empire) "to
convey their affectionate sympathy with you in your triumph over the
tyranny of Tsardom. At first we took the natural and hopeful view that your
Revolution, supported by all that was noblest in all ranks of your society,
was the result of bitter dissatisfaction with the conduct of the War, and
with the secret and sinister enemy influences which were at work to ruin
your chances in the common fight against Kaiserism.

"Yet it was immediately followed by wholesale desertions from the
firing-line and a general disintegration of military discipline. It seems,
then, that we were wrong; for otherwise it would be a curious irony that a
movement designed for the better conduct of the War should produce a
complete stagnation on your fighting fronts; or, to look at it from another
point of view, that a Revolution which owed its success to the War, since,
in such a war as this, the Army and the nation are one, should have, for
its immediate consequence, an apparent failure on your part to remember the
purpose for which the War is being fought.

"No doubt many motives were at work, and it was perhaps natural that in the
joy of your new-found freedom you should be tempted to forget the
conditions that had made it possible, and to regard the War as something
outside and remote, and its importance as small compared with the
achievement of internal liberty.

"Well, we have tried patiently to see things with your eyes, and now you in
your turn must please make an effort to see them with ours. From the first,
when we in England took on this War, we recognised that the country which
was bound to get most good out of it was Russia. For her we hoped that it
was to be in the fullest sense a War of Liberation. Your Allies would win
liberty from external menace, but you would also see the bonds of internal
tyranny broken. The TSAR, the little father of his people, had a chance,
such as falls to few, of giving to his nation something of the true freedom
that we in England know.

"He missed his chance. We will not ask why, but he missed it. Yet by other
means the War has been for you a War of Liberation, and, if you break your
pledge to see it through, you do not deserve your freedom. Nay more, you
run the risk of losing it; or, if, through the steadfastness of your sworn
Allies, you keep it, then you keep it at the cost of sacrificing the
friendship and sympathy of all free nations who are fighting in the cause
of liberty; and, on those terms, your own freedom is not worth having.

"Some of you argue that Russia's pledge to her Allies was an Imperialist
pledge and that you have the right to ignore it. Have you forgotten so soon
that the prime cause of Russia's entry into this quarrel was that Austria
had threatened to crush a free nation, Serbia, whose race and faith are
yours? Besides, a pledge like that is still a pledge, though governments
may change. Would you have it so that no people, from this time on, shall
trust the word of Russia for fear that a new _régime_ might repudiate it?

"We have been patient and made allowances. We know that a great nation like
yours cannot overthrow an age-long tyranny without being shaken through
every fibre of its being. Time was needed for you to recover your balance
and to resume a sane view of your obligations to others than yourselves. So
we have been patient, and are patient still, though the inaction on your
Front and your withdrawal from your part in the common struggle have made
our burden in France far harder to bear.

"If you fail us, we shall no less fight on, we others. 'We shall march
prospering--not through your presence.' We shall fight on till the ideals
of Kaiserism, your worst enemy, are crushed. America, that great Republic
that loves peace as passionately as you, will take your place, will fill up
the gap that you leave in the ranks of those who fight for freedom. And we
shall fight till we get the true peace that we want--not the peace which
some of you have advocated, fraternising with the common foe, listening to
the specious pleas of those who shirk the one test of their honesty when
they are asked to revolt against a tyranny as least as deadly as that which
you have yourselves overthrown.

"But you will not fail us, I know. Your hearts, as a nation, were once in
this War; heavy as our sacrifices have been, yours have been heavier still.
Why should you change? Why should the birth of your own freedom be the
death of your sympathy with the cause of the freedom of the world? No, you
cannot fail us; you are too great for that.

"Forgive me," Mr. Punch concluded, "if, in speaking from a full heart, I
have allowed myself an excess of candour. At home they have always been
very kind and let me have a charter to say just what I think; and I have
been doing it, without much distinction of persons, for seventy-five years
and more. If to you, who have been dumb so long, this seems beyond belief,
permit me to offer you, with sincere affection and regard, a visible proof
of my privilege in the shape of my

ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SECOND VOLUME."

[Illustration]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: INDEX]

CARTOONS.

  PARTRIDGE, BERNARD.
    Against Tyranny, 369
    Also Ran, 157
    Answer to Peace Talk (An), 9
    Blighted Prospects, 109
    Breath of Liberty (The), 211
    Cancelled, 183
    Catch of the Season (The), 225
    Comfort in Exile, 401
    Dawn of Doubt (The), 25
    Dead Frost (A), 77
    End of the Thousand-and-One Nights (The), 289
    Erin takes a Turn at her own Harp, 353
    For Services Rendered, 337
    Greater Need (The), 171
    His Latest, 321
    "I am the Man", 58-59
    Judgment of Paris: Latest Inversion (The), 417
    Last Throw (The), 125
    Price of Victory (The), 305
    Road to Victory (The), 93
    Snowing him under, 41
    "Swooping from the West", 257
    Victory First, 241
    Waning of Faith (The), 273
    Who Follows?, 141
    Word of Ill Omen (A), 385

  PEGRAM, FRED.
    Plain Duty (A), 87

  RAVEN-HILL, L.
    Alimentary Intelligence, 235
    Bad Dream (A), 315
    Breaking of the Fetters (The), 179
    Cannon-Fodder--and After, 267
    Central Isolation, 167
    Common Ideals, 379
    Donnerwetter, 299
    Dynastic Amenities, 251
    Freedom of the Sea (The), 151
    Good Riddance (A), 411
    Great Uncontrolled (The), 347
    Hoist with his own Petard, 395
    Hypnotist (The), 331
    Invaders (The), 191
    Playing Smaller, 363
    Rational Service, 103
    Retort Celestial (The), 135
    Rumourists (The), 219
    Self-Protection, 283
    Short Way with Tino (A), 19
    War-Savings, 119
    White House Mystery (The), 3

  TOWNSEND, F.H.
    Apple of Discord (The), 51
    Bankrupt Bravos (The), 35
    Unmade in Germany, 71

ARTICLES.

  ALLEN, INGLIS.
    Adjutant on Leave (The), 292

  ANDERSON, Miss E.V.M.
    Way not to pay Old Debts (A), 52

  BARFIELD, A.O.
    Air-Castles, 101

  BERKELEY, Capt. R.C.
    Jollymouse, 259

  BIRD, Capt. A.W.
    Edward, 79
    Fruit Merchant (The), 214
    More Discipline, 1
    New Danger (A), 108
    Over-weight, 24
    Tragedy of the Sea (A), 134

  BLAIKLEY, Miss Editha L.
    Gems from the Juniors, 282

  BLAIR, Miss F.K.
    Romance of Rations (A), 150

  BRAHMS, Miss M.
    National Service, 317

  BRETHERTON, CYRIL
    Back to the Land, 254
    Charivaria, weekly
    Food Question (The), 272
    His Master's Voice, 10
    Oxford Revisited, 130
    Plot Precautionary (The), 187
    Reventlow Ruminates, 334
    To Smith in Mesopotamy, 373
    To Towser, 92

  BROWN, A. HILTON
    Tyrtæus, 327

  BROWNE, Miss
    Forward Minx (A), 113

  BROWNLEE, LEIGH D.
    Signs of the Times, 123

  BRYMER, CECIL J.
    Two Constables (The), 318

  CHANDLER, Miss BLANCHE W.
    Hardships of Billets (The), 82, 122, 215

  CHAYTOR, Rev. H.J.
    Autre Temps--Autres Moeurs, 237
    Fore and Aft, 276

  CHERRILL, Miss A.L.
    Lucid Explanation (A), 64

  CLARKE, E.F.
    Infantryman (The), 76

  COBB, THOMAS
    Broken Soldiers (The), 134

  COLEMAN, R.
    Most important Thing (The), 268

  DARK, RICHARD
    Emily's Mission, 358

  DARLINGTON, W.A.
    De Profundis, 213
    Three Augusts, 74
    Ways and Means, 346

  DENNIS, G.P.
    Diplomatic Notes, 298

  DOWN, Capt.
    Personal Pars from the Western Front, 50

  DRENNAN, MAX
    Meditations of Marcus O'Reilly, 372
    Recent Truce (The), 112

  DRENNAN, W. ST. G.
    On the Spy-Trail, 316

  DU CANN, C.G.L.
    As Others see Us, 102

  ECKERSLEY, ARTHUR
    Choking them off, 12
    Docking the Drama, 301
    New Note in Theatrical Advertising (The), 269
    Problems for Pétroleuses, 139
    Seasonable Novelties, 74
    Spoop, 238

  ELIAS, FRANK.
    Fashions in Book-wear, 37
    Our New Army of Women, 78
    War's Romances, 107

  ELLIOT, W.G.
    Weighed in the Balance, 254

  ELLIS, D.C.
    Lions at Play, 62

  FARJEON, MISS ELEANOR.
    Nursery Rhymes of London Town, 11, 26, 79, 106, 121

  FISH, W.W. BLAIR.
    Cautionary Tales for the Army, 252, 309, 387
    Co-operative Advertisements, 228
    Herbs of Grace, 165, 178, 212, 227, 240
    Mab Dreams of May, 276
    Songs of Food Production, 86, 105, 129, 150, 355
    Wars of the Past, 8, 29, 54

  FOX-SMITH, MISS C.
    Admiral Dugout, 224
    'Ead-work, 55
    "In Prize", 404
    Jolly Bargeman (The), 320
    "Let her go!", 205
    Short way with Submarines (A), 378
    Song of the Mill (The), 155
    Tale of a Coincidence (A), 90

  FYLEMAN, MISS ROSE.
    Best Game the Fairies Play (The), 377
    Fairies, 341

  GARSTIN, CROSBIE.
    Château in France (A), 318
    Dream Ship (A), 46
    Mud Larks (The), 86, 178, 218, 308, 330, 364, 382
    Regimental Mascot (The), 21

  GARVEY, MISS INA.
    Blanche's Letters, 234, 396

  GLASGOW, EDWIN.
    Personal Triumph (A), 278

  GLASGOW, MRS. ROBERTSON.
    Winged Victory, 184

  GRAVES, C.L.
    At Rest, 272
    Booming of Books (The), 122
    Classical America, 160
    Diary of a Co-ordinator (The), 410
    Flapper (The), 30
    Fritz's Apologia, 222
    Good old Gothic, 97
    Hot Weather Correspondence, 362
    House-Master (The), 357
    Jill-of-all-Trades and Mistress of Many, 323
    Joy-rider at the Front (The), 182
    Maxims of the Months, 243
    Ministerial Wail (A), 307
    Missing Leader (The), 138
    Musings of Marcus Mull (The), 381
    My Watch, 162
    Piccadilly, 384
    Purified Prussian (The), 56
    Random Flights, 330
    Smile of Victory (The), 75
    Song of Food-Saving (A), 173
    Spiritual Sportsman (The), 14
    Strife of Tongues (The), 278
    To F.-M. Sir Douglas Haig, 419
    To Mr. Balfour on his Return, 404
    To my Godson, 193
    Topical Tragedy (A), 213
    To Stephen Leacock, 114
    Travel without Trains, 81
    'Twas Fifty Years Ago, 295
    War's Surprises, 40

  HARRIS, A.
    Double Entente, 277

  HERBERT, A.P.
    Ballade of Incipient Lunacy, 382
    Open Warfare, 400
    Zero, 336

  HOLMES, W. KERSLEY.
    Apology of a Warrior Minstrel, 149
    Only Steggles (The), 30
    Vicarious Reprisals, 368


  HOWELL, E.B.
    Muscat, 6

  IMAGE, MRS.
    Rations, 190

  INCE, R.B.
    Paper Problem (A), 275

  JAY, THOMAS.
    Charivaria, weekly

  JENKINS, A.L.
    Inn o' the Sword (The), 66

  LANGLEY, CAPT. F.O.
    Watch Dogs (The), 4, 72, 120, 154, 192, 236, 286, 348, 415

  LEHMANN, R.C.
    Fate of Umbrellas (The), 66
    Francis Cowley Burnand, In Memoriam, 288
    From Lord Devonport's Letter-Bag, 230
    German Measles, 246
    Hat and the Visit (The), 406
    Heart-to-Heart Talks, 18, 70, 102, 118, 162, 185, 250, 356, 414
    Helping Lord Devonport, 146
    Hexameters, 375
    Peas and Pledges, 342
    Proper Proportion (A), 266
    Recognised (The), 215
    Recognition, 34
    School, 310
    Tasty Dishes, 326
    Tipinbanola (The), 98
    Ultimus, 13

  LETTS, MISS W.M.
    General Post, 294

  LIPSCOMB, W.P.
    Lessons of the War, 394
    Weather-Vanes, 136

  LOCKER, W.A.
    Essence of Parliament, weekly during Session

  LOUIS, EDWARD.
    Follow-up Method (The), 44

  LUCAS, E.V.
    Art of Detachment (The), 128
    Compliment (The), 144
    Dissuaders (The), 398
    Earlier Food Problems, 229
    Ella Reeve, 180
    Everlasting Romance (The), 169
    Favorite (The), 194
    Fifteen Tridges (The), 359
    First Lines, 253
    God-Makers (The), 388
    Hints to Grosvenor House, 302
    Italian in England (The), 244
    Law Courts Theatre (The), 334
    London's Little Sunbeams, 6
    Loss (A), 222
    Misgivings, 46
    Misnomer (A), 270
    More News from the Air, 277
    One of our Difficulties, 324
    Our Correspondence College, 80
    Political Notes, 53
    Revivals and Revisions, 284
    Solace (The), 152
    Taxis and Talk, 94
    Three Dictators (The), 104
    What did Mr. Asquith do?, 28
    Who shall decide?, 370

  LAFONE, H.C.
    Just Sailors, 412

  MCCLELLAND, W.E.
    Letters from Macedonia, 38, 64, 88

  MCKAY, HERBERT.
    Children's Tales for Grown-ups, 154, 173, 177, 193, 222, 240, 270, 288,
        310

  MACLEOD, L.R.
    Charivaria, weekly

  MANDERS, MRS.
    Old Rhymes for Ration Times, 221

  MARTIN, N.R.
    Current Event (A), 260
    Extra Special (An), 2
    Great Investment (The), 130
    Local Food-Controller (A), 398
    Whitehall Whisperings, 304

  MENZIES, G.K.
    General (The), 258
    Scotland Yet, 214
    Super-Char (The), 90

  MILNE, A.A.
    From a Full Heart, 285
    Gold Braid, 181
    Hereinafters, 314
    Miniature (The), 36

  MITCHELL, MISS G.M.
    "It", 254

  MORROW, GEORGE.
    Privilege, 161

  NAISMITH, J.K.B.
    Acting-Bombardier, 140

  OGILVIE, W.H.
    Bunny's Little Bit,  139
    Call to the Cow Ponies (A), 349
    Comrades, 237
    First Whip (The), 168
    Song of the Woodland Elves (A), 97
    Top-o'-the-Morning, 22
    Troop Horses, 302
    Wimmin, 413

  OVERTON, JOHN.
    Pan Pipes, 398

  PING, MISS LILIAN G.
    Dolls that did their Bit (The), 340
    Mon Soldat et mon Curé,  170
    Tactics, 13

  PLATT, F.W.
    To France, 269

  PLUMBE, C.C.
    My American Cousins, 339
    Sherwood Foresters (The), 351

  POSTLETHWAITE, H.A.
    Secrets of Heroism (The), 351

  PRESTON-TEWART, A.
    Emergency Rations, 244
    Fleeting Detachment (A), 61

  PUCKRIDGE, W.H.
    Poultice (The), 205

  RIGBY, REGINALD
    Petherton and the Pluralist, 42
    Petherton's Donkey, 106
    Petherton's Publications, 350

  ROBERTS, P.V.
    Algy, 410

  ROBERTS, R.H.
    Flowerless Future (The), 220
    Seed Potatoes for Patriots, 175

  SEAMAN, OWEN
    At the Play, 96, 186, 261, 326, 390
    Faith and Doubt in the Fatherland, 34
    Food of Love (The), 166
    Golfer's Protest (The), 50
    Great Sacrifice (The), 266
    Hohenzollern Prospect (The), 218
    Little Willie's Opinion of Father, 362
    Mr. Punch in Russia, 421
    Place of Arms (A), 330
    Potsdam Altruist (The), 282
    Prophetic Present (The), 346
    School for Statesmen (A), 250
    Stomach for the Fight, 298
    Symposium of the Central Weaknesses, 234
    Tactless Tactics, 102
    T.M.G., 394
    To Germania, 134
    To Paris by the "Hindenburg Line", 190
    To the German Military Picture Department, 70
    To the Kaiser for his New Year, 2
    Vienna-Bound: A Reverie en Route, 18
    William _v._ the World, 118

  SHIRLEY, J.
    Vision of Blighty (A), 248

  SMITH, BERTRAM
    Ban on Racing (The), 410
    Hindenburg Line (The), 256
    Little Rift (The), 27
    More or Less, 150
    Not Wisely but too Well, 366

  SMITH, C.T.
    Wobbler (The), 239

  STEIN, CAPT. E. DE
    Sick, 291

  SWINHOE, R.
    Mammal-Saurian War (The), 145

  THOMAS, R.W.
    Infanticide (The), 405
    Told to the Marines, 300

  THOMPSON, PATRICK
    Appropriator of Tubers, 374

  THORP, JOSEPH
    At the Play, 14, 114, 174, 186, 292

  TWEEDDALE, MISS D.M.
    Knight-errant (A), 20

  WILKES, HENRY E.
    Excelsior, 270

  WILLIAMS, MISS HELEN
    Funeral of M. de Blanchet (The), 378

  WILLIAMS, R. LL.
    Convert (The), 38

  WOODWARD, MISS BARBARA
    National Sky-scraper (A), 166

PICTURES AND SKETCHES.

  ARMOUR, MAJOR G.D., 12, 31, 83, 99, 131, 163, 231, 263, 293, 311, 327,
      341, 371, 389, 407

  BATEMAN, H.M., 39, 199, 210, 303, 356, 367

  BAUMER, LEWIS, 15, 23, 42, 61, 121, 140, 153, 170, 182, 193, 256, 287,
      352, 368, 384, 416

  BELCHER, GEORGE, 7, 29, 37, 65, 111, 147, 161, 214, 261, 323, 351, 403,
      413

  BIRD, W., 10, 64, 173, 201, 208, 278, 281, 312, 344, 345

  BRIGHTWELL, L.R., 52, 223, 246, 406

  BROCK, H.M., 47, 53, 94, 104, 129, 136, 185, 200, 220, 247, 279, 285,
      343, 370, 381, 405

  BROCK, R.H., 245

  BROOK, RICARDO, 4, 16, 28, 33, 49, 101, 120, 133, 188, 216, 217, 244,
      260, 297, 316, 329, 358, 372, 408, 409

  COBB, RUTH, 236

  COLLER, H., 137

  COTTRELL, TOM, 98, 364

  DOWD, J.H., 67, 89, 115

  DOWD, LEONARD P., 116

  "FOUGASSE", 69, 97, 265, 284, 301, 313, 360

  GHILCHIK, D.L., 392

  GRAVE, CHARLES, 79, 373, 387, 412

  HARRISON, CHARLES, 20, 80, 112, 294, 377

  HART, FRANK, 88, 127, 200, 288, 340

  HASELDEN, W.K., 14, 96, 114, 174, 186, 262, 292, 326, 390

  HEATHCOTE, C.N., 17

  HELPS, H., 396

  HENRY, THOMAS, 117, 310, 348

  JENNIS, G., 13, 139, 176, 228, 252, 276, 357

  LUNT, WILMOT, 78, 230

  MILLS, A. WALLIS, 258, 277

  MORELAND, ARTHUR, 72, 107

  MORROW, EDWIN, 44, 105, 144, 173, 213, 308, 332

  MORROW, GEORGE, 32, 48, 68, 84, 100, 113, 132, 148, 164, 175, 204, 248,
      264, 280, 296, 309, 319, 328, 335, 375, 383, 393, 420

  NORRIS, ARTHUR, 232

  PACKER, E.A., 85

  PARTRIDGE, BERNARD, 1

  PEGRAM, FRED, 195

  PRANCE, BERTRAM, 233, 342

  RAVEN-HILL, L., 36, 128, 196, 197, 206, 207, 271, 422

  REYNOLDS, FRANK, 8, 21, 40, 56, 81, 91, 108, 123, 143, 155, 175, 181,
      197, 203, 209, 215, 259, 307, 320, 404

  ROUNTREE, HARRY, 178, 414

  SHEPARD, CAPT. E.H., 166, 227, 240

  SHEPHEARD, G.E., 213

  SHEPPERSON, C.A., 5, 24, 45, 76, 92, 110, 124, 156, 174, 187, 190, 253,
      272, 325, 336, 359, 365

  STAMPA, G.L., 26, 43, 73, 145, 159, 181, 201, 221, 237, 249, 275, 291,
      300, 324, 339, 380, 400

  TENNANT, DUDLEY, 376

  THOMAS, BERT, 55, 95, 160, 168, 180, 192, 205, 229, 243, 349, 388, 397,
      419

  THORP, J.H., 75, 268

  TOWNSEND, F.H., 11, 27, 63, 126, 142, 152, 158, 169, 172, 177, 184, 194,
      198, 202, 212, 224, 226, 239, 242, 255, 269, 274, 290, 295, 304, 306,
      317, 322, 333, 338, 354, 355, 361, 386, 391, 399, 402, 403, 415, 418

  WILSON, DAVID, 189

[Illustration: FINIS]





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