Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 153, December 26, 1917
Author: Various
Language: English
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VOL. 153, DEC. 26, 1917
***


PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

VOL. 153

DECEMBER 26, 1917



CHARIVARIA.

Victory is only a question of keeping cool, says VON TIRPITZ. A
long-suffering Fatherland anticipates no difficulty whatever in
following his advice during the winter.

       ***

A semi-official message from Berlin declares that Jerusalem was
evacuated because Germany's friends did not desire to see battles
fought over sacred ground. The Sultan of TURKEY is reported to have
wired to the KAISER to think of another.

       ***

America is still breaking all records. A native artist has painted
a picture which is said to be sixty feet by nineteen, the largest
miniature ever painted in America.

       ***

It is rumoured that at a provincial Tribunal the other day an
applicant asked for a further six months' exemption as he had a wife
and a position in a butter queue to maintain.

       ***

It seems useless to attempt to cope with the multiplicity of events in
these days. Cuba has declared war on Austria; the KAISER threatens
to make a Christmas peace offer, and Mr. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW has
described himself as "a mere individual." And this all in one week.

       ***

According to Dean INGE, Germany is in many ways the best governed
country in Europe. She certainly seems to have a better governed
clergy than ours.

       ***

Much relief is felt at the announcement that rather than endanger the
Allies' "solidarity" Lord LANSDOWNE has promised not to agree with
President WILSON again.

       ***

Bloaters have reached the unprecedented price of six-pence each. It
was hoped that, at any rate, over the Christmas season they would
remain within reach of the upper classes.

       ***

A man has been charged with stealing a railway sandwich at Harwich. It
appears that the poor fellow, who was lonely, wanted to take it home
as a pet.

       ***

A contemporary has a headline, "Swearing in the New French Cabinet."
They are beginning early.

       ***

For adding water to his employer's milk a dairyman's assistant has
been sent to prison. Innocent dairymen must of course be protected.

       ***

Smokers complain that they are discovering unfamiliar substances in
their tobacco. A sensation has been caused by the expert statement
that they are tobacco.

       ***

Orchids were sold for as little as two-pence each at a recent sale,
and alarmed growers are clamouring for the immediate appointment of an
Orchid Controller.

       ***

An evening paper correspondent has complained that he has searched
the shops in vain for a tortoise. So far the various Government
Departments have maintained a dignified silence.

       ***

It is all nonsense for a contemporary to say that the blizzard in the
North on a recent Saturday did no damage. Several of the football
results were delayed.

       ***

While visiting Seaton College, New York, the other day, Mr. ROOSEVELT
saluted a statue of ALEXANDER THE GREAT. We have always maintained
that there is nothing petty about the EX-PRESIDENT.

       ***

The most striking announcement of the year 1917 comes just when it is
almost used up. "There is a steady demand for money," says a Stock
Exchange report.

       ***

A mummified duck, estimated to be two thousand years old, has been
discovered in a sandstone stratum in Iowa. It is not often that the
poulterers of Iowa are caught napping.

       ***

An American policeman is said to have written two successful musical
comedies. If we remember rightly it was an English policeman who first
composed the Frog's March.

       ***

At a Guildford charity fête the winner of a hurdle race was awarded a
new-laid egg. If he succeeds in winning it three years in succession
it is to become his own property.

       ***

The L.B. & S.C. Railway desire to state that the train from which the
deserter jumped without injuring himself was not really doing its
best.

       ***

A burglar was discovered concealed beneath the counter of a Leicester
butter-merchant's shop. It is understood that he came early to avoid
the rush.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Manager_. "WHY DON'T YOU GET IN THE MIDDLE OF THE
STAGE?"

_Tenor_ (_haughtily_). "I PREFER STAYING WHERE I AM."

_Manager_. "ALL RIGHT--ALL RIGHT! I SUPPOSE YOU THINK YOU'LL BE ABLE
TO POP DOWN THE EUPHONIUM IF THERE'S AN AIR-RAID."]

       *       *       *       *       *

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 usual; 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.

       *       *       *       *       *

    "AFFAIRS IN RUSSIA.

    [printed upside down: "MILITARY DICTATORSHIP"] "EXPECTED."--_Egyptian
    Daily Mail_.

It looks as if the expectation has been upset.

       *       *       *       *       *

    "The defendant expressed regret that having misunderstood a
    newspaper paragraph he charged one penny for a box of 'Pilot
    matches.' Directly his attention was drawn to the matter he at
    once charged the correct price, 3s. 4¾d."--_South London Press_.

Our journalists should really be more careful not to mislead honest
tradesmen.

       *       *       *       *       *

WITH THE AUXILIARY PATROL.

I do not think there was a single man of the ship's company who bore
the loss of poor Mnemosyne dry-eyed. From the lieutenant down to the
trimmer we had become sincerely attached to this affectionate little
creature, and when unhappily, during the temporary absence of the
steward, she ventured to circumvent the rim of an open condensed
milk-tin, missed her footing and succumbed to a clammy death, there
was not a more unhappy trawler patrolling the North Sea than ours.

She was a weevil and I found her in my ship's biscuit. From the first
I recognised that she was no ordinary weevil; her stately bearing, the
fine upward curl of her moustachios, but, more than anything else, the
intelligent, often humorous gleam in her big black eyes elevated her
at once above the mass of her compatriots. She took to me wonderfully:
I secured her confidence with a piece of boiled cat-fish, and
thenceforth we were scarcely ever apart. Not that she resented the
advances of the rest of the crew--she was no snob, and would eat from
the hand of the trimmer as readily as from my own, and allow anyone to
stroke her; but it was I who taught her to sit up and beg, to "die for
her country," to droop her antennæ whenever the name of VON TIRPITZ
was mentioned, and to wave them for Sir DAVID BEATTY. She would often
sit with me in the wireless cabin whilst I was on watch, and never
once did she disturb me during the receiving of a message by
boisterous or noisy behaviour.

We had other weevils at different times, but none so intelligent or so
faithful as Mnemosyne. The lieutenant tamed one, and, being a devotee
of science and despising the arts, he named him Newton Darwin; but
he was a foolish fellow at the best and continually getting into
somebody's way. The lieutenant offered to back him against Mnemosyne
for a race across the cabin table, and we made a match of it. The
betting was three to two in favour of Newton Darwin, because the third
hand, who had once been employed in a racing-stable, had been heard to
remark that he had very fine quarters. The stakes were half a plug of
ship's tobacco.

It was a walk-over. On the word "Go" Mnemosyne positively leapt
forward, took a crease in the tablecloth in her stride and completed
the course, which measured sixteen inches, in the remarkable time of
seven and two-fifths minutes. Newton Darwin was left standing; indeed
he never attempted to race, but, after staring about vacantly for some
minutes, ambled leisurely off in the opposite direction, where he had
seen a breadcrumb.

This victory was very popular, and the third hand was roundly abused
for suggesting that Mnemosyne had been doped. Even if Newton had got
away with the pistol he would never have stood a chance against her.
She was the fleetest weevil I ever saw.

Another weevil was Bertie, who belonged to the second engineer, but
he was caught pilfering the skipper's private supply of fresh butter,
which he kept in a jar in his bunk and was very jealous of, so Bertie
had to be made away with. He walked the plank at daybreak one grey
stormy morning just off the Nethermost Ruff of the Dogger. The second
was very upset for a day or two; he said he would have staked anything
on Bertie's honesty.

We kept Mnemosyne for over two months, and never once did she
misconduct herself or behave in an unseamanlike manner. Her one
failing, if such it can be called, was a weakness for condensed milk,
and this it was that led to her untimely end. We had come to regard
her as one of the crew, and had a little lifebelt made for her in case
of need. Jones, our signaller, who has poetical moments, was inspired
by her to make verse, which began:--

  There is something very evil
  In the war-whoop of a weevil.

This was indignantly censored as a libel, but he excused himself on
the plea that "evil" was the only possible rhyme to be found for
"weevil," and declared that his very last intention had been to be
personal or to cast the least reflection on the lovable disposition of
Mnemosyne, so we forgave him with a caution.

Well, Mnemosyne is gone, and the ship seems a dull place without this
exhilarating little pet. Never so long as ship's biscuits continue
to buckle the jack-knives of British seafarers will there be another
weevil like Mnemosyne.

We flew the White Ensign at halfmast from dawn to sundown on the day
she died.

       *       *       *       *       *

A RASH ACT.

Extract from the report of a ladies' Lacrosse Club:--

    "The deplorable habit of scratching with no sufficient reason,
    just before a practice, has mounted almost to a disease."

       *       *       *       *       *

    "Will any kind gentleman help an Indian with a loan of Rs. 7,000
    at 6%? No risk. Gentleman having deep love for mother will
    understand advertiser's noble cause. No brokers should
    apply."--_Statesman_ (_Calcutta_).

What's the matter with brokers? Aren't they also born of woman?

       *       *       *       *       *

LIPS AND THEIR LESSONS.

    ["General PERSHING has collected round him a staff of thin-lipped
    determined men."--_The Observer_.]

  If physiognomists are right,
    And faces count as half the battle,
  We clearly ought not to invite
    Comparison with sheep or cattle,
  But rather should improve the features
  That mark us off from humbler creatures.

  Eyebrows projecting like a bush
    Are facial assets to be prized,
  Denoting driving-power and push
    In men however undersized
  (Bear's grease or paraffin or both
  Will largely stimulate their growth).

  The fish-like and lethargic eye
    We should endeavour to efface,
  And foster visual orbs that vie
    With those of eagles in its place;
  While belladonna's artful use
  An extra brilliance may produce.

  Nor are there wanting ways and means
    Enabling experts to impose
  By sundry suitable machines
    Fine character upon the nose;
  And nasal dignity, we find,
  Promptly reacts upon the mind.

  But those who in this great reform
    Of face and feature are engrossed
  Agree that to enforce a norm
    In labial fabric matters most;
  The lips that help a race to win
  Unquestionably must be thin.

  Therefore with pleasure unalloyed
    We learn that great Columbia's sons,
  With PERSHING busily employed
    In laying plans to down the Huns,
  According to a trusty pen
  Are "thin-lipped and determined men."

       *       *       *       *       *

On the retirement of certain Tanks from their War Bond duties:--

    "They can understand, we hope, how very jolly it has been to have
    them, and how sorry we are to see them go. We shall probably sing
    those typical English ballads 'Auld Lang Syne' and 'Will ye no
    come back again?'"--_Daily Paper_.

A Scottish correspondent suggests the addition of a few other "typical
English ballads," such as "The Wearing of the Green," "Men of
Harlech," "The Star-Spangled Banner" and "The Marseillaise."

       *       *       *       *       *

    "Applications will be received by Mr. J. Arnold, Chairman of the
    Bathurst Municipality, for a TOWN CLERK, whose duties will be
    the following, viz.: Competent Bookkeeper, Sanitary Inspector,
    Street Inspector, and to supervise labour party on roads, Native
    Location Inspector, Dog Tax Collector, Ranger, Caretaker of the
    Municipal Dipping Tank and be able to mix dip. Kafir language
    essential."--_South African Paper_.

And he'll want a lot of it.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE WAIT. HIS MASTER'S VOICE. "I'VE NOTHING FOR YOU. GO
AWAY!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: Mr. Podgers (persuasively hospitable). "NOW
COME, GRANDMA, DO ALLOW ME TO GIVE YOU JUST A LITTLE--SAY FIVE
SHILLINGSWORTH--MORE TURKEY."]

       *       *       *       *       *

SIDNI THE STOREMAN.

FRAGMENT OF AN EDDA.

  At the downcome of darkness
  Up to the trenches
  Fared he forth,
  Sidni the Storeman.
  On bent back
  Bore he the Rum Jar,
  Bringing a boon
  To the Folk in the Front Line.
  Scatheful the sky
  With no stars shining;
  Monstrous the mud
  That lay deep on the Duck Boards.
  A weary while
  Wandered he on;
  No wit he wotted
  Of fate that followed
  Stalking his steps.
  So passed he the posts
  All silent and sunken
  In mire and murk,
  Till fearful he felt for
  The doubtful Duck Boards
  No longer beneath him.
  Then spake Sidni,
  Steward of Stores:
  "Now know I well
  I have come to the Country
  That men name No Man's;"
  And with woe his heart
  Waxed heavy within him
  For horror of Hun Folk
  Who crawl in the craters.

  Then there arose
  Dim in the darkness
  The face and form
  Of Heinrik the Hun
  With hand upheld
  Bearing a bomb.
  But fear filled the heart
  Of Sidni the Storeman,
  And with force of fear
  Raising the Rum Jar
  Drave he adrad
  At the face of the foeman.
  Down sank the Slayer
  Smitten asunder
  And over his face
  Unloosed ran the liquor.
  Then Heinrik the Hun
  Sang he this Swan Song:
  "Hero, I hail thee,
  Godlike who givest
  Fire and Sweetness
  Born of a blow.
  Loki art thou,
  Or Wotan the one-eyed
  Coming to call me
  Away to Walhall.
  Happy I haste
  To the Hall of the Heroes;
  Point thou the Path!
  I come! I come!"

  But fast with the force
  Of the fear that was in him
  Fled Sidni the Storeman
  Back to the Britons
  And came by chance
  Straightway to his section,
  Bearing the Rum Jar
  Now lacking the liquor.
  Then, puffing with pride
  And the pace of his running,
  Told he a tale
  Of the Slaying of Seven;
  But little belief
  In the count of the killing
  Gat Sid from the section,
  Wrathy withal
  At the loss of the liquor.
  And one thing Erb,
  Erb that erstwhile
  Hight his old Pal,
  Had for an answer:
  "Bale hast thou brought
  And rede of bale
  Have I for thee."
  Then troth they took
  And oath swear betwixt them
  That for four years full
  Or the War's duration
  He should draw and drink
  Sid's ration of Rum.
  So doom was decreed
  For the loss of the liquor.
  But Sidni the Storeman
  Transferred to the Transport.

       *       *       *       *       *

    "UNION OF DEMONCRATIC CONTROL."

    _Leicester Daily Mercury_.

Is this a misprint or a criticism?

       *       *       *       *       *

THE WATCH DOGS.

LXVIII.

My Dear Charles,--I don't know that I think so much of these alliances
after all, and I'll tell you why.

When I first heard that my old friend Italy was in trouble I paraded
my officer at once. "Stand to attention, George," I said, "and tell me
what we are going to do about it."

"Oh, that'll be all right," said he. "I've booked my seat in the
train."

I think that George, my subordinate, sometimes forgets who I am and
what importance attaches to me. I feel that he ought at least to
consult me formally before he decides what instructions I am going to
issue to him. After all, I am only fifteen years younger than he is.

"You will proceed forthwith to Italy," I said, "and will there study
the local conditions on the spot. You will then take such action as
the occasion seems to you to demand." George was cleaning out his
pipe, so for once he didn't interrupt. "You will report progress to
me in triplicate."

George frowned. Having been the Supreme White Man in some African
district for dozens of years before the War, all his hair seems to
have got into his eyebrows, and his frown is a terrible thing to see.

"At any rate," I said, "you might just drop me a post-card to tell me
how you're getting on."

George's eyebrows stood at ease and then stood easy.

"It's all very well for you," I added. "But what about me, when it
comes to totting up your travelling allowances later on?"

George has private means, which work out at about one-and-fourpence,
less income tax, a day. Consequently he is a little careless about
money matters. "Oh, that'll be all right," he said.

       *       *       *       *       *

George was away for three weeks. What he did all the time I'm sure
I don't know, though I kept on reporting to my superiors that the
necessary steps were being taken and the requisite measures were being
initiated. When he got back he wanted to start in at once telling me
all about it. But I said no, and insisted on getting down to the War.

"In making out travelling claims," I said, producing the appropriate
Army Form, "care should be taken to comply with the instructions
contained in the King's Regulations. We have a quarter of an hour
before your breakfast will be ready. Let us deal with our more
formidable enemies, the Pay People, first."

George is the sort of person who gets you into trouble on the very
first line of any Army Form. Asked as to his rank, he told me he was a
Second Lieutenant in the Army, temporary Lieutenant, acting Captain.
All these ranks get a different rate of allowance. Which of the three
was George in fact?

"A man of your age ought to know better," I said.

We were half-an-hour late for breakfast, and even so George hadn't got
to the station of departure, as far as A.F.O. 1771 was concerned.

I determined to devote the morning to the matter, clearing the court
for the purpose. Our Mr. Booth, however, who is intolerably precise
and accurate in these matters, had profited by my absence at breakfast
to collect a folio of relevant Orders and Instructions, numbered one
to seventy-three consecutively.

It all sounds so simple, doesn't it? You get so many francs a day for
subsistence, and so many francs a night for accommodation, in France;
so many lire a day for subsistence, and so many lire a night for
accommodation, in Italy. Ah yes, but you don't know George when he is
in action. Not content with travelling in the dark, and so subsisting
by night when he ought to be accommodated, and being accommodated by
day when he ought to be subsisting, he could never make up his mind
to stay in the same country for two days together. As to his constant
movements from one country to the other, three times he had supposed
he had finished with Italy and was due back in France; each time
he had got comfortably across the frontier into France he had been
recalled to Italy. Never once had he the sense to cross the frontier
on the stroke of midnight, and so make a complete twenty-four hours
of it on each side, and all the time the rate of exchange was varying
by a fraction. But, as George said, it wasn't himself who was
manipulating the rate of exchange as between the two countries, and
courtesy to allied nations prevented him from manipulating the trains.

It was towards teatime when he satisfied me of his own innocence on
these points; but don't run away with the idea that by this time we
were well on with the business. We had barely as much as started. How
are you to fix the "date of journey" in such a manner as to give the
traveller a clear night for accommodation in one country, or a clear
day for subsistence in another, when he leaves his home at 5.15 P.M.,
arrives at the end of the first stage at 6.10 P.M., sleeps in a hotel
till 11 P.M., gets in the train at thirty-five minutes past, crosses
the frontier at 2 P.M. on the following day, arrives at his Italian
destination at 5 A.M. on the morning after that, and then, if you
please, goes to bed in another hotel? Old soldier though I am, there
didn't seem to me to be a single line in a single column which I could
satisfactorily fill in. True, there was the space for "Remarks," but
our Mr. Booth was quite sure that my remarks were not what the Pay
People called for.

By this time I was for giving in, but George was now the persistent
one. It was never his pocket he cared for; it was just one of his
confounded principles not to be beaten by anything, not even an Army
Form. I expressed some surprise that in the course of this tour of
duty he had not managed to find his way to America for an hour or two,
if only to complicate my business with the dollar question...

I read the whole Form again, from start to finish, including the bit
about vouchers being required for any unusual expenditure, such as
cab-fares of over ten shillings. I then told George to write down on
a piece of paper how much money he had when he started on his silly
journey, and how much he had in hand when he got back; to deduct the
latter from the former and tell me the result; to go away, leave me
to wrestle all night with the problem, come back next morning at
nine, remain motionless and strictly in one country in the meanwhile,
neither accommodated nor subsisting. He gave me the figure, 173
francs, and never mentioned the subject to me again for days owing to
the sullen fury he noted in my expression every time he cleared his
throat to do so.

After ten days I handed George a chit from the Pay People for "one
hundred and seventy francs for travelling expenses, 30/10/1917 to
20/11/1917, for tour of duty to Italy." George said I had a dashed
fine brain to have worked out the claim; I told him the Pay Man had a
dashed kind heart to settle it. I hadn't been able to avoid mentioning
Italy; but for the rest the Pay Man simply must have thought that
George had driven all the way to the frontier and back in cabs and
done precious little duty on the other side of it. Wouldn't you
have thought so, Charles, if you had received a claim merely for
eighty-five cabs, at two francs a time, and all in France, too?

Yours ever,

HENRY.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Profiteer_. "VELL, 'ERE'TH ANOTHER PENNY FOR LOOKIN'
THO MITHERABLE!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

From a church notice-board:--

  Matins.--Hymn 43:

  'Great God, what do I see and hear?'
        Preacher, Rev. Dr. ----.

  Hymn 45:
  'Hark! an awful voice is sounding.'

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE DEDUCTIVE MIND.

_Permanent Base Man_ (_in charge of incinerator, to Sanitary
Inspector_.) "YOU CAN TAKE IT FROM ME, CORPORAL, SOME BLIGHTER'S BEEN
PUTTING BOMBS IN THIS INSINUATOR."]

       *       *       *       *       *

TRENCH COATS.

I went into a shop to buy a trench-coat. The shopman came forward with
an air which said quite plainly, "You are a second lieutenant. You
have just obtained a commission from the ranks. You think you do not
want a complete outfit. It is my business to show you that you are
mistaken. You want a complete outfit. Your Sam Browne is second-hand.
You picked your boots up from a Salvage Dump. You cap was used once in
your bathroom at home as a sponge-bag. Your trench-coat is disgusting.
The whole outfit would fail to deceive a man's maiden aunt, so obvious
an attempt is it to mislead the unsophisticated into supposing that
you have arrived here straight from the trenches. I know better. You
have just obtained a commission in the motor-transport section of the
Wessex Home Defence Corps. Gentlemen from the trenches always dress as
if they'd come straight out of a shop like this ... And we don't take
cheques."

That was what his manner said. What he actually said was noncommittal.
He said, "Yes, Sir?"

I took off my trench-coat and let the glory of three whole stars
dazzle him. He little knew that one of them was "acting," and his
face fell.

"I do not at present," said I, "require a knife with indispensable
cheese-scoop and marmalade-shredding attachment. My indispensable
steel mirror with patent lanyard and powder puff for attachment to
service revolver is in perfect working order. I already possess two
pairs of marching boots with indispensable trapdoors in each heel
containing complete pedicure set and French-Portuguese dictionaries.
My indispensable fur waistcoats, Indian clubs, ponchos, collapsible
Turkish baths, steel aprons and folding billiard tables have already
brought the weight of my kit nearly up to the allotted thirty-five
pounds. My indispensable cigar cabinet, camouflaged to look like
a water-bottle; my patent and absolutely essential convertible
gramophone which can be changed at a moment's notice into a tin hat;
my caviare lozenges and shampoo tabloids--I have them all. I want a
trench-coat and nothing else."

His face had fallen a little as I spoke. But it lit up again with
a sort of cunning excitement when I said "trench-coat." I wondered
why--then. Now I know. I thought that he was baffled and would say
no more, but I had forgotten the developments of trench warfare.

"This way, Sir," said the shopman.

He led me to a room which combined the architectural style of the
Crystal Palace and Waterloo Station with a touch of the dentist's
waiting-room. There was a khaki tent in the midst of it, and he led me
towards this with the air of a broody hen anticipating the number of
her chickens.

"The Vadecumomnibus trench-coat," said he.

"But it's a tent," I protested.

"It has collapsible aluminium centre seam," he retorted rapidly,
"which can be used as a tent pole in severe weather. On buttoning the
top button this pole telescopes automatically and forms a bullet-proof
spine protector. Each sleeve can be unscrewed and used in an emergency
as a Lewis gun. This is indispensable--"

"Of course," I interrupted. "But I require something quite simple and
straightforward. Just a trench-coat, you understand."

"We have here," he said immediately, "the Gadget coat. It possesses
three hundred button-holes and three hundred buttons. Every single
portion of the coat can be buttoned on to every other part at a
moment's notice. The pockets are detachable and can be used as coffee
cups or finger bowls. The coat itself, when stretched on our patent
aluminium framework, makes an admirable hip-bath."

I played nervously in my pocket with the pin of a live Mills grenade
(overlooked by the A.M.L.O.).

"A simple, straightforward trench-coat," I repeated.

"This," said the shopman, handing me something very like a slice of
plum-pudding--"this is the cross-section of a piece of the cloth out
of which our 'Stopablitey' trench-coat is manufactured. It shows the
strata of the material, consisting of alternate layers of old motor
tyres and reinforced concrete--the whole covered with alligator skin
and proofed with our patent indispensable--"

It was then that I killed him and buried him under a pyramid of
indispensable gadgets. It will be years before they find him.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Wife_ (_Time 3.45 A.M._). "WHERE ARE YOU GOING?"

_Special Constable_. "AIR-RAID DUTY, DEAR."

_Wife_. "WELL, DON'T LET THE CAT OUT."]

       *       *       *       *       *

If TROTSKY is the Enver Pasha of Russia, ENVER PASHA may be described
as the Turkey Trotzky.

       *       *       *       *       *

OUR POPULAR EDUCATORS.

A recent article in _The Daily Mail_ began, "Jerusalem, the famous
city of the Bible..."

There is nothing like taking precautions not to talk over the heads of
your readers. We offer a few suggestions on similar lines:--

"Germany, the powerful enemy against whom we are contending in the
present War (1914 onwards)..."

"SHAKSPEARE, the immortal author of _Hamlet_ (the tragedy)..."

"'Blighty', the British soldier's name for England..."

"MOSES, the distinguished lawgiver and prophet..."

"The GERMAN CROWN PRINCE, eldest son of KAISER WILHELM II..."

"EVE, the heroine of the Garden of Eden story..."

"Economy, the virtue imposed on us by the present shortage of food..."

"_The Daily Mail_, a newspaper..."

       *       *       *       *       *

HELLO, GIRLS!

    "CIVIL SERVICE LADIES FOR LONDON TELEPHONE EXCHANGES, over 1 and
    under 30 years of age. Minimum height 5ft."--_Evening Paper_.

Many ladies of our acquaintance, although just over the minimum age,
are not yet quite up to the required height.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Lady_ (_displaying costume in which she is to appear
as the Queen of Sheba in "Biblical Beauties" tableaux at charity
matinée_). "RATHER SWEET, ISN'T IT?"

_Friend_. "MY DEAR, ABSOLUTELY TOPPING. IT MAKES ME FEEL I OUGHT TO
BE DOING WAR-WORK TOO."]

       *       *       *       *       *

TO SANTA CLAUS.

  Historic Santa! Seasonable Claus!
    Whose bulging sack is pregnant with delight;
    Who comest in the middle of the night
  To stuff distracting playthings in the maws
    Of stockings never built for infant shins,
    Suspended from the mantelpiece by pins.

  Thou who on earth wast named Nicholas--
    There be dull clods who doubt thy magic power
    To tour the sleeping world in half-an-hour,
  And pop down all the chimneys as you pass
    With woolly lambs and dolls of frabjous size
    For grubby hands and wonder-laden eyes.

  Not so thy singer, who believes in thee
    Because he has a young and foolish spirit;
    Because the simple faith that bards inherit
  Of happiness is still the master key,
    Opening life's treasure-house to whoso clings
    To the dim beauty of imagined things.

  Wherefore, good Kringle, do not pass me by,
    Who am too old, alas! for trains and blocks,
    But stuff the Love of Beauty in my socks
  And Childlike Faith to last me till I die;
    And there'll be room, I doubt not, in the toes
    For Magic Cap and Spectacles of Rose.

  And not a song of beauty, sung of old,
    Or saga of the dead heroic days,
    And not a blossom laughing by the ways,
  Or wind of April blowing on the wold
    But in my heart shall have the power to stir
    The shy communion of the worshipper.

  Hark! On the star-bright highways of the sky
    Light hoofs beat and the far-off sleigh-bell sounds!
    Is it old Santa on his gracious rounds
  Or one dead legend drifting sadly by?
    Not mine to say. And, though I long to peep,
    Santa shall always find me fast asleep.

  ALGOL.

       *       *       *       *       *

    "A clerk was at London Mansion House yesterday charged with
    stealing a blouse the property of the governor and directors of
    the Bank of England.

    "She said she could not understand what made her take it, and,
    believing she acted from sudden temptation, the Lord Mayor bound
    her over."--_Daily Mail_.

We do not think the "Old Lady of Threadneedle Street" ought to wear
such tempting garments in these times.

       *       *       *       *       *

    "WITH THE ITALIAN ARMY.--The battle, which continues with unabated
    fury, is gradually extending along the front from the Brenta
    to the Piave, a line of over 11 miles, with its wings on the
    Col della Berretta and Monte Spinoncia, north-east of Grappa.

    "I learn that for 24 hours the fighting was marked by a
    determination in counter-attacks which has never yet been
    exceeded. No fewer than four times Colonel della Berretta
    changed hands."--_Scots Paper_.

We hope the gallant officer is none the worse for his game of
Hunt-the-Skipper.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: AN INEXPENSIVE LUXURY.

FIRST KAISER (WILHELM). "I AM THINKING OF SENDING THIS BIRD OF
PEACE FORTH AGAIN. WE CAN AFFORD TO BE MAGNANIMOUS."

SECOND KAISER (KARL). "WELL, WE CERTAINLY CAN'T AFFORD ANYTHING
ELSE."]

       *       *       *       *       *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

_Monday, December 17th._--On the whole the Lords gave a friendly
reception to the Franchise Bill. They have learned a good deal
since 1911. Even Lord SALISBURY forebore on this occasion his usual
intention to die in the last ditch, and was ready to let the Bill
pass, provided that Proportional Representation was included in it.
The most vehement criticism came from Lord BRYCE, who viewed with
alarm the addition of six million women to the electorate. Women,
he declared, neither met nor talked--an assertion which surprised
the more married peers. Lord BURNHAM supported "P.R." with the
self-sacrificing argument that the Press would become too powerful
if minorities had no way of expressing their views except in the
newspapers. Perhaps he doesn't want another letter from Lord
LANSDOWNE.

[Illustration: A QUEUE FOR THE COMMONS.]

Mr. HOGGE is usually so assiduous in his attendance that I was
surprised at his sudden departure just before Sir C. KINLOCH-COOKE put
a question to the FOOD CONTROLLER. But when I found that the question
related to "the political as well as the economic effect of the new
regulation governing the sale of pigs" I recognised the delicacy of
his action in withdrawing. Mr. CLYNES, however, had nothing to say on
the political aspect of the question; and shortly afterwards Mr. HOGGE
reappeared.

The Members whose interrogatory activities it is sought to curb are,
for the most part, like the objects in a museum, more curious than
exhilarating; but there are some, I am afraid, whose questions are
intentionally mischievous, and by their mere appearance on the
notice-paper give comfort and even information to our foes. Mr. BONAR
LAW'S announcement that the Government would, during the Christmas
holidays, consider how to mitigate the nuisance met with noisy
objection from Mr. LYNCH, Mr. PRINGLE and other Members. The most
original contribution to the discussion came from Mr. HOLT, who
innocently inquired whether the Government would mind laying before
the House a statement of the harmful questions which had been asked.
Possibly he was thinking of the famous edition of MARTIAL in which all
epigrams of doubtful propriety were excluded from the main text and
collected in the appendix.

The SECRETARY for SCOTLAND, speaking at break-neck speed, managed to
give the House within the space of ten minutes an outline of the Bill
which he hopes will maintain for Scotland her primacy in education.
The new MUNRO doctrine did not, however, appeal to everybody, and
there were ominous cries of dissent when he announced his intention
of disestablishing the School Boards and putting the denominational
schools on the rates.

Lord RHONDDA listened from the Peers' Gallery to the debate on Food
Control, and received a quantity of advice which should help him to
mind his p's and q's, particularly the latter. His lieutenant, Mr.
CLYNES, improved the reputation that he has already acquired at
Question-time, and was able to bring a little personal experience
to bear upon the most vexed question of the day. "Members of my own
household," he said, "have stood in these queues, and I know something
of their hardships." That is why, no doubt, he has urged upon his
chief the formation of a Consumers' Council, to aid the Ministry in
its deliberations. Mr. TILLETT seized the opportunity to make his
maiden speech, and reminded the House that when they talked of queues
at home they should not forget those other queues in the trenches. For
the sake of the men who had lined up in our defence it was for us to
see that their wives and children got their proper supply of food.

_Tuesday, December 18th._--It was curious to hear Mr. LEES-SMITH, that
stickler for freedom of expression, complaining that a London paper
had published an article attacking M. CAILLAUX; and the House was
amused by Lord ROBERT CECIL'S suggestion that the hon. Member should
furnish him with ideas for the more stringent control of newspapers.

Mr. PETO was alarmed by an alleged increase in the export of footwear
to Switzerland, and particularly to villages on the German frontier.
He yields to none in his desire to give the KAISER the boot, but
not in any surreptitious manner. Lord WOLMER comforted him with the
statement that the bulk of the exports consisted of women's and
children's shoes, quite useless to the Germans until they get down
to their 1930 class.

The HOME SECRETARY announced an increase in the War-bonus to the
police from eight shillings to twelve shillings. With leather at its
present price it was good to hear that the Government had been mindful
of their extremities.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Coastguard_ (_rung up by the Military_). "NOT SO MUCH
OF YER 'ACK! ACK! AND YER OLD 'PIP EMMA!' LET'S 'AVE THE BLOOMIN'
MESSIGE."]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE YOUNGEST GENERATION.

"What shall he have that killed the deer?" someone asks somebody else
in _As You Like It_. But there is a better question than that, and it
is this--"What shall they have that preserve the little dears?" and
the answer (if I can do anything to influence it) is--honour and
support; for there can be no doubt that in these critical times, when
the life of the best and bravest and strongest is so cheap, no duty is
more important than the cherishing of infancy.

At a _Crêche_ in Notting Hill I watched, the other day, some of this
cherishing in progress, and it was a pleasant and stimulating sight.
The institution was in existence in a small way before the War, but it
has recently been enlarged and made scientific, to meet the greater
needs which the War has set up, and it is now able to act as foster
mother to seventy mites, from the age of one month to four years,
whose real mothers are for the most part engaged in war work. That is
a good piece of citizenship, is it not? And to watch it in being is an
education in those wonderful things to the eye of man--the solicitude
and patience and capability of woman. The noise alone, whether of
joy or of transitory grief, would drive most men frantic; but these
devoted souls, knowing that it is all part of the game, proceed with
an unearthly composure through it all--undressing their charges,
dressing them, washing them, feeding them, beguiling them; in a word,
tending them, from morning till evening.

The children begin to arrive, brought either by their mothers, their
"Little Mothers" (I mean sisters) or their brothers, between 8 and
9--some in arms and some in perambulators and some in go-carts; and
then they are immediately divested of their home clothes, popped
into warm baths three or four at a time, and dressed in the clothes
belonging to the _Crêche_. For the rest of the day they wear these
clothes and sleep, eat, play and, when it amuses them more to do so,
cry, until the time comes to be put back into their own garments
and be taken away. By some strange instinct their relations, I am
informed, know them again, and very few mistakes occur; and so
gradually, in the neighbourhood of seven o'clock, peace descends on
this corner of Notting Hill once more.

The place is sheer Lilliputia: for everything is on a reduced scale.
Scores of little beds round the walls, with little pillows and little
coverlets; scores of little chairs; a long table so low that it seems
to be the footstool of a giant's wife, with little benches beside
it for their little meals. In the centre of the room are two little
pounds, with railings so close together as not to be crawled through,
where the more adventurous ones can be kept out of mischief in the
company of woolly toys; and outside is a loggia place with little
cradles for the babies who want more air to sleep in.

Such is the Stoneleigh Street Crêche, and in order to realise what
admirable and desirable functions it fulfils--principally by voluntary
aid, for the capitation fee of half-a-crown a week is, of course,
quite insufficient to maintain it--one has only to imagine what the
lot of these helpless little creatures would be if they were left in
their motherless homes. Not only would they be far less happy but far
less healthy; and it is upon healthy babies that England's future must
be founded. If any reader of _Punch_, then, should be in doubt as to
what to do with a little surplus money, let the little requirements
of these little people be remembered. The address to which donations
should be sent is: The Secretary, Notting Hill Day Nursery, Stoneleigh
Street, Notting Hill, W.

       *       *       *       *       *

INTERESTING EXAMPLE OF LONGEVITY?

    "Richard ----, D.D., a member of the elder branch of the family,
    was a contemporary and friend of Ben Jonson, and his portrait in
    oils, by Romney, is now an heirloom."--_Provincial Paper_.

       *       *       *       *       *

    "The stationmaster was then kidnipped--he is a married
    man."--_Standard_ (_Buenos Aires_).

Possibly henpecked as well.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "A SEASON FOR FRESH AIR AND ROOM TO
BREATHE."--_Quotation from one of the above Railway's
advertisements_.]

       *       *       *       *       *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

(_BY MR. PUNCH'S STAFF OF LEARNED CLERKS_.)

Those who like to read familiar letters--and I confess it is one
of my favourite literary distractions--will find matter very much
to their mind in _Some Hawarden Letters_ (NISBET), compiled by L.
MARCH-PHILLIPS and BERTRAM CHRISTIAN. It is a collection of letters
addressed to Miss MARY GLADSTONE before and after her marriage to Mr.
DREW. Sitting at the centre she seems to have held together her circle
by golden threads of confidence and intimacy. Here you will learn how
RUSKIN was brought to visit Hawarden, and how he entirely altered
his views on Mr. GLADSTONE, going so far as to suppress a number of
_Fors Clavigera_ in which slighting allusion had been made to him.
Here, too, you will find Lord ACTON, who deeply disapproved of Mr.
GLADSTONE'S conduct in paying a memorial tribute of respect and eulogy
to Lord BEACONSFIELD. ACTON'S list of the hundred best books (or,
to be strictly accurate, of ninety-nine of them) is also given. It
provides heavy reading for a hundred years at the very least. As a
set-off to this ponderosity there are the letters of BURNE-JONES,
fresh, amiable and delightful, as also those of Professor JAMES
STUART, which are among the best in the collection. Mr. A.J. BALFOUR
appears as the owner of four concertinas, on which he was willing "to
play with anyone who would accompany him through any of the oratorios
of Handel." RUSKIN writes to CARLYLE, addressing him as "Dearest
Papa," and signing himself "Ever your faithful and loving son." The
letters of GEORGE WYNDHAM are a charming collection, shining with hope
and idealism yet never losing their touch of the firm earth. This book
was nearly completed by the late Mr. MARCH PHILLIPS, and after his
untimely death the task was brought to a conclusion by Mr. CHRISTIAN.
On the whole the work has been done with great discretion, but there
is a passage relating to GEORGE ELIOT on pp. 193, 194 which ought to
have been omitted.

       *       *       *       *       *

Miss MILLS YOUNG tells us that _John Musgrave_, the middle-aged hero
of _Coelebs_ (LANE), "was not a prig, but he came perilously near to
being one at times." Well, if anyone ought to know, it is his creator,
so I will accept her word for it, though for myself I should have
called him a first-class prig. The little village in which he lived
his bachelor existence was invaded by some up-to-date people who took
the Hall, and proceeded to liven up things. _Mrs. Chadwick_ freely
shocked the poor man; she smoked, was a reckless conversationalist and
had modern ideas, all which disturbed the decorous manner of his life.
Moreover, she had taken upon herself the heavy task of finding him
a wife, and _John's_ phlegmatic heart began to flutter when he saw
_Peggy_, her lady-gardener and niece, standing on a ladder, in blue
trousers. He was incensed by such apparel, but he was also intrigued.
From that moment his number, as they say, was up. Apart from a
dog-incident, which is far too prolonged, and some rather cheap
sarcasm at the expense of a wretched spinster, this tale of _John's_
conversion from something drier than dust to a human being is neatly
told. All the same I prefer Miss YOUNG'S South African stories.

       *       *       *       *       *

My conjecture about _The Magic Gate_ (HUTCHINSON) is that its author,
MAUD STEPNEY RAWSON, found herself with two stories to choose from,
one of the Gate itself, and another of the romance of _Lydia_ and
_John Wodrush_. In my opinion she chose the wrong one. The history of
the _Wodrush_ elopement, compressed to a couple of pages, seems to me
far more original and interesting than the present rather unwieldy
tale. _The Magic Gate_ is a war-novel confessed, and I can only fancy
that the thronging new sensations of the past three years have proved
a little too much for Mrs. RAWSON'S sense of form. She is so anxious
that her heroine and her readers shall miss nothing of it all that in
the result the plot is lost in a maze of incidents that lead nowhere.
The effect produced on a small country society by the early phases
of the War is shown deftly enough. But perhaps posterity will find
in such a record a more compelling interest than we can to whom it
is still so familiar in every unforgettable detail. One other ground
of complaint I have against the book is that its most original and
attractive character, the American woman to whose generosity _Jennet_
owes her occupancy of Fullbrook Manor, is banished at an early page,
and submarined just when I was looking for her reappearance. Hers is
yet another story with which Mrs. RAWSON might have entertained me
better than by this of _The Magic Gate_, which I found a trifle creaky
on its hinges.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Senlis_ (COLLINS) is one of the many places that have been
systematically destroyed by the Germans. It is difficult for anyone
who has not seen the results with his own eyes to realise the
business-like thoroughness which the Hun brings to this congenial
task. That a part (and the most beautiful) of the town still stands
does not imply that he yielded either to slackness or to æsthetic
refinement. True that Miss CICELY HAMILTON relates a pleasing story
that Senlis was saved from utter destruction by the entreaties of the
_curé_, but, all the same, I think the real reason why the Bosch did
not complete his work was that he was bundled out bag and baggage
before he had time to add the finishing touches. Miss HAMILTON clearly
and soberly states the case against him, and makes it all the more
damning by her frank recognition that many of the horrors of war,
whoever makes it, are inevitable. Her delightful account of Senlis
itself, admirably illustrated with photographs, is certain to
appeal to all lovers of the charm of old French towns; and the more
poignantly when they recall how narrowly the best of its beauty
escaped from the hand of the spoiler.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: EPILOGUE]

       *       *       *       *       *

MR. PUNCH AS PROPAGANDIST.

I don't know what decided him to do it. I think he must have been
a little fed up with our silly British way (rather attractive, all
the same) of assuming that the whole world is bound to recognise
the justice of our point of view without the use of propaganda to
stimulate its intelligence.

Or else he had read somewhere that the Bolsheviks had been flooding
the Hun trenches with Socialist literature and that the German
Headquarters Staff had protested against this kind of thing as being
contrary to etiquette, and he thought he couldn't go far wrong if he
did something that was contrary to Bosch etiquette.

Anyhow he started off in his Bouverie biplane to distribute a million
or so leaflets of his own composition over the whole expanse of the
Fatherland. It has been my privilege to read a sample which he handed
to me just before leaving earth. It runs as follows:--

"GERMANS--Your Kaiser has taken good care that his Press should keep
you in ignorance of the feelings with which your nation is regarded
by the civilized world. I am therefore about to oblige you with a few
home-truths.

"You have probably heard a rumour that we and our Allies have no
quarrel with the German people, but only with its rulers. Don't you
believe a word of it. Possibly we still respected you when the War
began, for we had not guessed how many of you had been looking forward
for years to the coming of 'The Day.' It is what we have found out
about you since you started fighting that has made us loathe and
despise you.

"When, as a nation, you accepted without protest the filthy savagery
of your armies in Belgium and other occupied lands; when even your
women were vile in their cruelty to the helpless prisoners you had
taken; when you rang your church bells and waved flags and took
holidays for joy of the murder of innocent women and children, we were
not deceived by apologists who explained that your only defect was
that you were the slaves of a brutal militarism (though you were that,
all right). We knew that you must have something of the beast in your
hearts. How it got there was another matter; we only knew that it was
there and that while it remained you were not fit for intercourse with
decent men.

"Another thing that you may have heard (for even some of our own
statesmen, reputed intelligent, have said it, and it has no doubt been
eagerly seized upon by the officials who control your Press), is that
your form of Government, the particular pattern of tyranny under which
you elect to grovel, is no concern of ours. Well, don't you believe
that either. This is no question of private taste, like the cut of
your shoulder-pads or the shape of your women's waists, which are
matters of purely local interest. Your type of Government is as much
our concern; as the quality of your poison-gas or the composition of
the bombs that you drop on our babies.

[Illustration:]

"I am reminded of the nonsense that used to be talked by responsible
statesmen at the time when you were feverishly building a fleet to
dispute our right to ensure the freedom of the seas. We were told that
you were at perfect liberty to do so if you chose, and that it was not
for us to interfere with your arrangements. Yet everybody knew all the
time that there was nothing in the world that concerned us so closely.
If France had been massing troops on your frontier you would at once
have asked her to state her intentions, or even possibly have taken
action without asking her. Well, the sea is our frontier.

"You are to understand, then (whatever anybody may say), that
everything done in Germany that bears immediately upon our relations
with your State is of prime concern to us. Our desire for peace is as
strong as your need of it; but we cannot afford to make terms with a
Government whose word, as we have proved, is not worth the paper they
write it on--who would treat any peace as a mere armistice to give
them breathing-space for preparing a fresh war. No, if you want peace
you will have to displace your present rulers. You are so good at
'substitutes' that you ought to have no difficulty about that.

"And the sooner the better for you. For as this War drags on we are
not getting to love you more. Even now it will take you at least a
generation to purge your offence and get back into the community of
civilized nations. But there is another thought that is more likely to
affect your thick commercial hides, and it is this. Unless you take
steps, and pretty soon, to put yourselves in a position in which we
can treat with you, you will be boycotted in the markets of the world,
and you will go bankrupt. It is for you, the German people, to decide
whether you choose this fate. Meanwhile Time presses and the sands run
low."

Such was the matter of the leaflet that Mr. Punch rained down from his
Bouverie biplane (fortunately invulnerable) upon the cities of the
Fatherland. Till now the German people, fed on windy tales of triumph
in place of solid food, had borne their sufferings patiently as trials
incident to all wars even when you are told that you are winning them.
This was the first intimation they had received of the facts. For the
first time they had a chance of seeing themselves as others saw them.

He carried no bombs, but as he flew over Potsdam he could not refrain
from letting fall, by way of reprisal, a weighty souvenir upon the
purlieus of the Imperial Palace. Dropped at a venture, there is reason
to believe that it fell within measurable distance of the head-piece
of the All-Highest. It was Mr. Punch's

[Illustration: "One Hundred and Fifty-Third Volume."]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: INDEX]

       *       *       *       *       *

CARTOONS.

  PARTRIDGE, BERNARD.
    At Bay, 319
    Belgian Menace (The), 239
    Betrayed, 399
    Birthday Greeting for Hindenburg (A), 255
    Breaking it up, 157
    Brusiloff Hug (The), 25
    Business of the Moment (The), 41
    Dance of Death (The), 271
    Freedom Renews Her Vow, 97
    Here To-day and Gone To-morrow, 287
    How it Strikes a Soldier, 351
    How to Lose the War at Home, 303
    If Everybody Helped, 383
    Inexpensive Luxury (An), 431
    "Knightly Manner" (The), 137
    Last Crusade (The), 415
    Long Live the House of Windsor!, 57
    Privileged Disloyalty, 335
    Real Voice of Labour (The), 117
    Russia's Dark Hour, 77
    St. George Out-Dragons the Dragon, 367
    Saving of the Race (The), 9

  RAVEN-HILL, L.
    Avanti, Savoia!, 191
    Birds of Ill Omen, 361
    Burglar Bill, 281
    Cornered, 149
    David in Rhonddaland, 377
    Democratic Turn (The), 35
    East Africa, 393
    Enigma, 265
    Fateful Session (A), 69
    Great Incentive (A), 329
    Great Uncontrolled (The), 345
    Inseparable (The), 223
    Interlude, 313
    Intruders (The), 129
    Liberators, 175
    Nation Demands (The), 3
    Need of Men (The), 409
    New Loaf (The), 109
    Place in the Moon (A), 233
    Russia First, 207
    Scrapper Scrapped (The), 51
    Tuber's Repartee (The), 19
    Vive la Chasse!, 297
    Wait (The), 425

  TOWNSEND, F.H.
    Counterblast (The), 89
    "Keep the Home Fires Burning", 169
    Letter and the Spirit (The), 249
    Our Unemployed, 217
    Perfect Innocence, 201
    Reverse of the Medal (The), 185


ARTICLES.

  ARGYLL-SAXBY, C.F.
    "Skilly", 121

  BEECROFT, A.E.
    Matilda, 141

  BIRD, Capt. A.W.
    Head Case (A), 148
    How to Cure the Bosch, 50
    Stocking of Private Parks (The), 128
    Tract for Grousers (A), 113

  BLAIKLEY, Miss E.L.
    Gems from the Juniors, 28

  BOWER, W.G. NOTT
    P.P.D. (The), 237

  BRETHERTON, CYRIL
    Charivaria, weekly
    Preserving their Prospects, 179
    To an Infant Gnu, 258
    To my Butcher, 382
    To Santa Claus, 430

  BRIGHTWELL, L.R.
    Deal with China (A), 315
    Dustbin, 68
    Two Dumb Warriors. I. Hyldebrand, 108
    War Dog (The), 228

  BROWN, C.L.M.
    With the Auxiliary Patrol, 424

  BROWN, Miss F.L.R.
    Our Souvenir Unit, 212
    Tower that passed in the Night, 93

  BROWN, HILTON
    Hymn for High Places, 133

  BROWN, Miss L.R.
    Le Poilu de Carcassonne, 339
    Le Sénégalais, 2

  BROWNLEE, L.D.
    Pars with a Punch, 362

  CHALMERS, P.R.
    Crossbills (The), 206
    Signs of Inns, 241

  CHANDLER, Miss B.W.
    A Surprise Party, 63

  CHAYTOR, Rev. H.J.
    V.A.D., 125

  COLLINS, G.
    Lovely Woman, 154

  COLEMAN, H.O.
    Our Popular Educators, 429

  CRESWELL, H.B.
    My Pyjamas, 340

  DARLINGTON, W.A.
    Bucephalus and the Road Hogs, 196
    Fire-Drill (The), 332
    Involuntary Raid (An), 236
    Philip, 36
    Play's the Thing (The), 396

  DAVEY, H.N.
    By the Canal in Flanders, 180
    Our Innocent Subalterns, 299
    Resolution (A), 11

  DRENNAN, MAX
    Meditations of Marcus O'Reilly, 402

  ECKERSLEY, ARTHUR
    End of an Episode, 183
    If the Paper Shortage increases, 408
    Theatrical Correspondence, 380

  ELLIS, D.C.
    Tap-room (The), 60

  FEELY, J.D.
    Noms de Guerre, 66

  FISH, W.W. BLAIR.
    Absentee (The), 4
    "He-who-must-be-Obeyed", 318
    Herbs of Grace, 308, 324, 417
    L'Agent Provocateur, 259
    Literal Epoch (A), 74
    New Golf (The), 134
    "Ships that Pass in the Night", 40
    Sugar Control, 218

  FOX-SMITH, MISS C.
    Bullington, 83
    Clyde-built Clipper (The), 414
    Declaration of War (A), 274
    Derelict, 356
    Gipsy Soldier (The), 24
    Little Things (The), 56
    North Atlantic Trade (The), 142
    Small Craft, 212

  FRITH, E.A.
    Twelfth (The)--New Style, 104

  FYLEMAN, MISS ROSE
    Fountain (The), 168
    Have You Watched the Fairies?, 34
    I Stood Against the Window, 23
    There Used to be, 14
    Visitors, 280
    White Magic, 380
    Yesterday in Oxford Street, 244

  GARSTIN, CROSBIE.
    Chemin des Dames, 148
    Mudlarks (The), 20, 71, 91, 132, 170, 225, 266, 282, 306, 330
    Oswald and Co., 256

  GARVEY, MISS INA.
    Thrills from the Termini, 108

  GIBSON, Capt. H.N.
    Ideal Medical Board (An), 159

  GIELGUD, L.E.
    H.Q. Touch (The), 238

  GLASGOW, MRS. ROBERTSON.
    Missing, 276

  GORE, Capt. J.
    Carp at Miramel (The), 264

  GRAVES, C.L.
    Ballad of Eels (A), 164
    Books and Books, 403
    Change Cure (The), 84
    Constable Jinks, 188
    Cuss-Control, 254
    Game of His Life (The), 124
    In Wild Wales, 228
    "Jong," 204
    Lips and their Lessons, 424
    Lines on Re-reading "Bleak House," 176
    Margarine, 387
    New Mrs. Markham (The), 272, 285, 308, 317, 348
    Old Song Re-sung (An), 93
    Our Mighty Penmen, 54
    Pure English, 243
    Rhymes for the Times, 275, 307
    Sirens and Their Successors, 43
    Spoil-Sport (The), 134
    Stanzas on Tea Shortage, 291
    Sugar, 372
    Test of Type (The), 196
    To "Martin Ross", 412
    Tropical Tragedy (A), 260
    Weary Watcher (The), 27
    Woman as Usual, 5

  HEILGERS, MISS LOUISE.
    Further Reminiscences, 38

  HELME, MISS E.E.
    Gentlest Art (The), 92
    Mentioned in Despatches, 1
    Perfect Customer (The), 412
    Second Childhood, 268

  HERBERT, A.P.
    At the Dump, 340
    Bomber Gipsy (The), 136
    Hay Fever, 8
    Humiliation of the Palfrey (The), 114
    Incorrigibles (The), 76
    Investiture (The), 96
    Lost Leader (A), 38
    Passing of the Cod's Head (The), 174
    Patrols, 222
    Rest-Rumour (The), 62
    To the Regiment, 419
    Trench Code (The), 190
    Vengeance (The), 388

  HERBERT, S.C.
    Lines to a Hun Airman, 172

  HEYWOOD, M.A.
    Sugar Cards and Wills, 392

  HODGKINSON, T.
    Ruined Rapture, 6

ARTICLES--CONTINUED.

  HOLMES, Capt.W. KERSLEY.
    Hut (The), 386
    Jimmy--Killed in Action, 74
    Long-faced Chums (The), 192
    Semper eadem, 153
    Ultimate Outrage (The), 302
    V.C. (The), 418

  HOPKINS, E.T.
    To a Dachshund, 376

  HOPPER, C.W.
    Cave Dwellers (The), 252
    Only Other Topic (The), 194
    Superior Sex (The), 411

  INCE, R.B.
    Little Match-Girl (The), 173

  JAY, THOMAS
    Charivaria, weekly
    Poet (The), 324

  KNOX, Miss KATHLEEN
    Lost Land (A), 187

  LAFONE, H.C.
    An Order of the Day, 392

  LANGLEY, CAPT. F.O.
    Letter from the Front (A), 154
    Watch-Dogs (The), 52, 112, 202, 250, 394, 427

  LASKER, R.S.
    Straight Talk with L.G. (A), 193

  LEHMANN, R.C.
    Bank's Mistake (The), 420
    Complete Plasher (The), 356
    "Gog", 227
    Going Back, 244
    Heart-to-Heart Talks, 30, 62, 114, 172, 290
    John Leech. I. To Our Greatest Contributor, 161
    Last Match (The), 363
    Lost Leader (The), 401
    My Aunt Matilda, 388
    Remembrance, 84
    Self-Denial, 142
    Six-and-a-penny-halfpenny, 324
    Sugar, 276
    Sunflower (The), 188
    To Lord Rhondda, 13
    Vote (The), 46

  LETTS, Miss W.M.
    Airman (The), 165

  LIPSCOMB, W.P.
    Camouflage Conversation, 300
    "Chockchaw", 410
    Codes, 234
    Force of Habit, 248
    Great Man (The), 312
    Lessons of the War, 34
    Letters of a General to his Son, 240
    Literary Adviser (The), 360
    Pratt's Tours of the Front, 280

  LOCKER, W.A.
    At the Play, 115
    Essence of Parliament, weekly during Session

  LUCAS, E.V.
    Allirap Asras, 273
    Art to the Rescue, 404
    As (The), 22
    Believe Me or Believe Me Not, 385
    Boat (The), 44
    Convert (The), 180
    Door (The), 253
    Dr. Sullivan, 61
    Heroes, 371
    How to Brighten up the Theatre, 322
    John Leech. II. Historian and Prophet, 161
    Letter from New York (A), 131
    London Mystery Solved (A), 224
    Once upon a Time, 354
    Peter, the Tempter, 338
    Picture Postcards (The), 100
    Presence of Mind, 284
    Raid Jottings, 240
    Reviews for--(The), 122
    Stronger than Herself, 298
    Study in Symmetry (A), 186
    Triumphal Progress (The), 204
    Two Missing Numbers (The), 12
    Youngest Generation (The), 433

  LYON, Miss L.B.
    Goin' Back, 56
    Lavender, 398

  LYON, P.H.B.
    Gilbert, 337

  MACLEOD, L.R.
    Charivaria, weekly

  MILNE, A.A.
    One Star, 168
    Way Down (The), 364

  MILNE, K.J.
    Sugar Fiend (The), 328

  OGILVIE, W.H.
    Pretending, 366

  OYLER, Miss MADELINE
    What the Kingfisher Knew, 44

  PLATT, F.W.
    "A merry Heart goes all the Day", 121

  PLUMBE, C. CONWAY
    Shakspeare and the War, 197

  PRESTON-TEWART, A.
    Counter Tactics, 365
    Military Aides, 80
    My Cuthbert, 29
    Playing the Game, 178
    Transgressor (The), 348

  PUCKRIDGE, W.H.
    To the Men who have died for England, 30

  PULLING, Miss J.K.
    Daughter of the Back Steppes (A), 192

  REYNOLDS, MRS.
    Great Offence (The), 209
    Old Formula (The), 301
    Very Glad Eye (The), 354

  RIGBY, REGINALD
    Choice (The), 120
    Cross-Talk with Petherton, 269
    Petherton and the Rag Auction, 220
    Petherton's Pedigree, 54
    Whisper and I shall Hear, 144

  ROBERTS, E.L.
    Sauce for the Goose, 95
    Whole Hog (The), 183

  ROBINSON, Miss ESTHER
    Mistaken Charity, 216

  ROQUETTE, D.G.
    Three Daughters of France, 101
    Washout, 200

  SAMPSON, R.H.
    Two Dumb Warriors. II. Ermyntrude, 111

  SCOTT, J.C.
    Scotland for Ever, 59

  SEAMAN, OWEN
    At the Play, 292
    Idylls of the King of Prussia, 128
    Innocents Abroad (The), 264
    Kaiser's Oriental Studies (The), 88
    Leaves from a London Notebook, 376
    Melting-Pot (The), 2
    Model Dialogues for Air Raids, 248
    More Sorrows of the Sultan, 328
    More Talk with German Peacemongers, 312
    Mr. Punch as Propagandist, 435
    Official Rectitude, 200
    On Vimy Ridge, 50
    Our Pacifists, 408
    Society Notes, 232
    Tino in Exile, 18
    To Attila's Understudy, 344
    To the German People, 392
    To the Potsdam Pacifist, 216
    To William at the Back of the Galician Front, 68
    Victory (The), 360
    Zepp-Flighting in the Hautes Alpes, 296

  SHAKESPEARE, CAPT. W.J.
    Monsieur Joseph, 18

  SHARPLEY, Miss STELLA
    Mariana in Wartime, 286

  SKEVINGTON, MAJOR S.B.
    Cadet's Friend (The), 408

  STEIN, MAJOR E. DE
    Fragment of a Tragedy, 94
    Sidni the Storeman, 426
    Stew (The), 316

  STUART, Miss D.M.
    Beasts Royal, 221, 236, 252, 268, 284,300
    London Pride, 122

  "SYNTON, EDWARD"
    Duelling Extraordinary, 124


  TARGETT, A.B.
    For Services Rendered, 242

  TATHAM, M.
    Recorder (The), 314
    Tube Hotels, Ltd. (The), 232

  THOMAS, F.S.
    Nightmares, 334, 344

  THOMAS, R.W.
    Suaviter in modo, 152

  THORP, JOSEPH
    At the Play, 14, 28, 164, 177, 195, 211, 275, 370

  TREMAYNE, SYDNEY
    Millie and the "Kayser", 378

  "TRUSCOTT, PARRY"
    'Taters, 372

  UPCOTT, Miss
   Brown Cart-Horse (The), 151

  WILSON, CAPT. T.P.C.
    David, 94
    "Divisional Signs", 82
    How to Become a Town-Major, 346
    Signal Section (The), 64
    Super-Pipe (The), 184
    Trench Coats, 428

PICTURES AND SKETCHES.

ARMOUR, MAJOR G.D., 15, 30, 63, 197, 211, 229, 323, 350, 371

BATEMAN, H.M., 7, 39, 102, 103, 189, 338, 381

BAUMER, LEWIS, 31, 40, 56, 75, 105, 121, 143, 156, 181, 206, 221, 254,
  269, 302, 321, 349, 366, 385, 398, 430

BELCHER, GEORGE, 37, 59, 101, 160, 177, 195, 225, 257, 285, 301, 339,
  365, 411

BEUTTLER, E.G.O., 202

BIRD, W., 20, 44, 127, 153, 194, 215, 258, 262, 278, 294, 311, 354,
  423

BRIGHTWELL, L.R. 120, 428

BROCK, H.M. 8, 36, 72, 159, 243, 251, 275, 331, 346

BROOK, RICARDO, 33, 60, 92, 126, 146, 178, 186, 226, 234, 310, 326,
  330, 391

COLLER, H., 293

COLLER, H. & R.W.H., 241

DOWD, J.H., 123, 273, 322

EVANS, TREYER, 93

"FOUGASSE", 49, 80, 144, 231, 263, 314, 343, 375, 407

FRASER, P., 86, 100, 240

GHILCHIK, D.L., 17, 67, 199, 218, 394

GRAVE, CHARLES, 112, 141, 152, 307

HARRISON, CHARLES, 283, 378, 410

HART, FRANK, 23, 73

HASELDEN, W.K., 14, 28, 164, 292, 370

HENRY, THOMAS, 64, 242

JENNIS, G., 5, 55, 219, 355

LEECH, JOHN, 162, 163

LEWIN, F.G., 167, 210, 282

LONGMIRE, R.O., 274, 359

MILLS, A. WALLIS, 61, 76, 145, 213, 227, 259, 272, 290, 306, 325, 353,
  373, 382, 402

MORELAND, ARTHUR, 386, 426

MORROW, EDWIN, 12

MORROW, GEORGE, 16, 32, 48, 66, 106, 125, 132, 147, 182, 198, 214,
  230, 246, 247, 267, 279, 295, 342, 358, 374, 390, 406, 422, 434

NORRIS, ARTHUR, 170

PARTRIDGE, BERNARD, 1

PEGRAM, FRED, 135, 179, 187, 362, 417

PRANCE, BERTRAM, 161

RAVEN-HILL, L., 96, 250, 320, 334, 421, 427, 436

REYNOLDS, FRANK, 13, 24, 45, 116, 401, 414, 433

ROGERS, W.J., 87

ROSS, T., 82

SHEPHEARD, G.E., 107

SHEPPERSON, C.A., 43, 83, 95, 111, 136, 173, 190, 209, 224, 238, 256,
  270, 286, 318, 341, 357, 387, 405, 418

STAMPA, G.L., 4, 29, 53, 81, 91, 113, 165, 183, 208, 245, 261, 266,
  299, 333, 363, 395, 419

THOMAS, BERT, 21, 52, 71, 133, 155, 171, 203, 235, 289, 309, 315, 337,
  379, 403

THORP, J.H., 298

TOWNSEND, F.H., 10, 11, 26, 27, 42, 47, 58, 65, 79, 85, 99, 115, 119,
  131, 139, 140, 151, 166, 174, 193, 205, 222, 237, 253, 277, 288,
  291, 304, 305, 317, 327, 336, 347, 352, 368, 369, 384, 389, 397,
  400, 413, 416, 429, 432

WHITAKER, W.G., 46

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: FINIS]





*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 153, December 26, 1917" ***

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