Chapter I: Front Matter

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOL. 152.

April 11th, 1917.

CHARIVARIA.

The question as to how America's army will assist the Allies has not yet been decided, so that President WILSON will still be glad of suggestions from our halfpenny morning papers.

***

The military absentee who said he had just dined at a London restaurant, and therefore did not mind going back to the trenches, acted rightly in not disclosing the name of the restaurant.

***

The report that M. VENEZELOS was in London has been denied by _The Daily Mail_ and the Press Bureau. It is expected that the news will at once be telegraphed to M. VENEZELOS.

***

There is a proposal to shorten theatrical performances, and several managers of revue, unable to determine which joke to retain, have in desperation resolved to sacrifice both.

***

Owing to travelling and other difficulties the British Association have decided not to hold their annual meeting this year. Unofficially, the decision is attributed to the growing prejudice against a continuance of the more frivolous forms of entertainment.

***

A soldier in Salonika has asked a friend in Surrey to send him some flower seeds for a garden in his camp. We hear that Mr. LYNCH, M.P., is convinced that this is merely an inspired attempt to obscure the real object of the campaign.

***

We learn with satisfaction that it is proposed to form a Ministry of Health, for many of the Government Departments seem to be suffering from a variety of complaints.

***

In connection with a recent law case, in which a certain Mr. SHAW was referred to as "one of the public," we hasten to point out that it did not refer to Mr. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW, who, of course, is not in that category.

***

"Peanuts," says _The Daily Chronicle,_ "do not seem to be receiving the attention they deserve from our food experts." Several of our younger readers who profess to be food experts declare that they are ready to attend to all the peanuts that our contemporary cares to put in their way.

***

In a duel with revolvers last week two Spanish officers wounded one another. We have all along maintained that duels with revolvers are becoming positively dangerous.

***

A cheque for twenty-five million dollars has just been handed to M. BRON, Danish Minister at Washington, in payment for the Danish West Indies. This, we understand, includes cost of packing and delivery.

***

_The Terror._ "NO, I DIDN'T KNOW, SIR. BUT IF THAT ASSERTION GENUINELY EXPRESSES YOUR CONSIDERED OPINION I FEEL VERY MUCH BETTER."]

***

There is a serious shortage of margarine and many people have been compelled to fall back on butter.

***

A gossip writer states that one of the recent additions to the Metropolitan Special constabulary weighs seventeen stone. It is not yet decided whether he will take one beat or two.

***

There is to be no General Election this year for fear that it might clash with the other War.

***

Another military absentee having told the Thames Police Court magistrate that he did not know there was a War on, it is expected that the Government will have to announce the fact.

***

It is no longer the fashion to regard the British as a degenerate race. Still it is good to know that one of our rat clubs has killed no fewer than three hundred of these ferocious beasts.

***

A contemporary suggests that we may yet institute a system of pigeon post, and thus assist the postal services. There will be fine mornings when the exasperated house-holder will be waiting behind the door with a shot-gun for the bird which attempts to deliver the Income Tax papers.

***

Two litigants in the Bombay High Court have settled their differences by agreeing that the sum in dispute shall be paid into the War Fund. This is considered to be a marked improvement on the old method of dividing it between the lawyers in the case.

***

"It is my supreme war aim," said Count VON ROON in the Prussian House of Lords, "to keep the Throne and the Dynasty sky high." Once we have knocked them sky high the Count can keep them in any old place he likes.

***

At a recent concert at Cripplegate Institute in aid of St. Dunstan's Hostel for Blinded Soldiers, lightning sketches of cats by Louis WAIN were sold by auction. The sketching of these night-prowlers by lightning is, we understand, a most exhilarating pursuit, but the opportunities for it are comparatively rare, and most artists have to utilise the moon or the searchlight.

***

It is announced that owing to the shortage of paper the number of propagandist pamphlets published by the German Government will be diminished. The decision may also have been influenced by the increasing shortage of neutrals.

* * * * *

"Father Waring's boat became jammed while being lowered and hung
dangerously, but the ship's surgeon cut the cackles and they descended
safely."--_The Pioneer (Allahabad)_

Another of our strong silent men.

* * * * *

SYMPOSIUM OF THE CENTRAL WEAKNESSES.

FERDIE.

My nerves are feeling rather bad
About the news from Petrograd.
Briefly, and speaking as a Tsar,
I think the game has gone too far.
When Liberty gets on the wing
You cannot always stop the thing.
Vices from ill examples grow,
And I might be the next to go.

TINO.

Yes, what has happened over there
May very well occur elsewhere.
Fortune with me may prove as fickle as
It did with poor lamented NICHOLAS.
It was a silly thing to do
To ape the airs of WILLIAM TWO;
I cannot think what I was at,
Trying to be an autocrat.

MEHMED.

I take a very dubious tone
About the fate of Allah's Own.
The Young Turk Party's been my bane
And caused me hours and hours of pain;
But, what would be a bitterer pill,
There may be others younger still,
Who, if the facts should get about,
Would want to rise and throw me out.

FERDIE.

I don't believe that WILLIAM cares
One little fig for my affairs.
He roped me in to this concern
Simply to serve his private turn;
And never shed a single tear
Over my loss of Monastir.
For tuppence, if I saw my way,
I'd join the others any day.

TINO.

Last year (its memory still is green) O
How WILLIAM loved his precious TINO!
He talked about our family ties
And sent me such a lot of spies.
But since his foes began to squeeze
My guns inside the Peloponnese
His interest in me has ceased;
I do not like it in the least.

MEHMED.

I lent him troops when things were slack,
And now the beast won't pay 'em back.
He never mentions any "line"
Of HINDENBURG'S in Palestine.
I cannot sleep; I get such frights
During these dark Arabian Nights.
But he--he doesn't care a dem.
O Allah! O Jerusalem!
O.S.

* * * * *

"THE ONE NEW SPRING FASHION.

Every woman who wants the most economical new garment, should buy
to-morrow's DAILY SKETCH."--_Evening Standard._

It sounds cheap, but would it wear?

* * * * *

BLANCHE'S LETTERS.

SOCIETY "WAR-WORKERS."

DEAREST DAPHNE,--The scarcity of paper isn't altogether an unmixed misfortune, as far as one's correspondence is concerned. Letters that don't matter, letters from the insignificant and the boresome, simply aren't answered. For small spur-of-the-moment notes to one's _intimes_ who're not too far off, there's quite a little feeling for using _slates_. One writes what one's to say on one's slate (which may be just as dilly a little affair as you please, with plain or chased silver frame, enamelled monogram or coronet, and pencil hanging by a little silver chain), and sends it by a servant. When the note's been read, it's wiped off, the answer written, and the slate brought back. _Isn't_ that fragrant? I may claim to have set this fashion. Of course a very _voyant_ slate is not just-so. The Bullyon-Boundermere woman set up one with a deep, heavily-chased gold frame, and "B.-B." at the top set with big diamonds. _C'est bien elle!_ She'd used it only half-a-dozen times when it was snatched from her footwoman, who was taking it to somebody's house, and hasn't been heard of since!

_People Who Matter_ gave a double-page to illustrating "War-Time Correspondence Slates of Social Leaders." _My_ slate's there, and Stella Clackmannan's, and Beryl's and several more. À propos, have you seen the series of "Well-known War-Workers" they've been having lately in _People Who Matter_? They're really quite worth while. There's dear Lala Middleshire in one of those charming "Olga" trench coats (khaki face-cloth lined self-coloured satin and with big, lovely, gilt-and-enamelled buttons), high brown boots, and one of those saucy little Belgian caps with a distracting little tassel wagging in front. The pickie is called "The Duchess of Middleshire Takes a War-Worker's Lunch," and dear Lala is shown standing by a table, looking so _bravely_ at two cutlets, a potato, a piece of war bread, a piece of war cheese and a small pudding.

Then there's Hermione Shropshire, in a perfectly _haunting_ lace and taffetas morning robe, with a clock near her (marked with a cross) pointing to eight o'clock! (She lets her maid dress her at that hour now, so that the girl may go and make munitions.) And Edelfleda Saxonbury is shown in an evening gown, wearing her famous pearls. She's leaning her chin on her hand and gazing with a sweet wistful look at an inset view of the hostel where she's washed plates and cups quite several times.

And last but not least there's a pickie that the journalist people have dubbed, "Distinguished Society Women distinguish themselves as Carpenters," _et voilà_ Beryl, Babs and your Blanche, in delicious cream serge overall things, with hammers, planes, and saws embroidered in crewels on the big square collars and turn-up cuffs, and enormously becoming carpenter's caps, looking at a rest-hut we've just finished. Oh, my dearest and best, you don't know what it is to _live_ till you've learned to _carpent_! It's positively _enthralling_! When we're skilful enough we're to go abroad-- _mais il faut se taire_! _I_ don't see why we shouldn't go _now_. We're as skilful as we shall ever be. And even if one or two of our huts _had_ no doors what's that matter? Besides, a hut with no door has a tremendous pull--there wouldn't be any draughts!

Everyone's _furious_ at the way the powers that be have treated Sybil Easthampton. You know what a wonderful thing her Ollyoola Love Dance is. Of course she's lived among the Ollyoolas and knows them in all their moods. (They're natives somewhere ever and ever so far off, where there are palms and coral reefs, and the people don't believe in wrapping themselves up much.) And so she's given the dance at a great many War Fund matinees. That little Mrs. Jimmy Sharpe, daring to criticise it, said there was too much Ollyoola and not enough dance; but everybody who _counts_ simply raves about it. And then, when some manager person offered Sybil big terms to do it at the "Incandescent," he was "officially informed" that, if the Ollyoola Love Dance went into the bill the "Incandescent" would be "placed out of bounds"! What do you, _do_ you think of that, _m'amie_? A piece of sheer _artistry_ like the Ollyoola Love Dance to be treated so! And it's wonderful not only artistically but scientifically. Each of dear Sybil's amazing wriggles and squirms and crouches and springs is _absolutely_ true--_exactly_ what an Ollyoola _does_ when it's in love.

We're all glad to think we can _still_ see the Ollyoola Love Dance at War Fund matinées.

Ever thine, BLANCHE.

* * * * *

THE SECRETS OF THE SALES.

"A splendid line in corsets, in fine white coutil, usually sold at 14s. 11d., are offered sale at 17s. 11d. each."--_Fashions for All._

* * * * *

"BRITISH HARRY THE ENEMY."--_Provincial Paper._

And all this time the Germans have been under the impression that it was British Tommy.

* * * * *

MR. PUNCH. "DO YOU CONTROL FOOD HERE?"

COMMISSIONAIRE. "WELL, SIR, 'CONTROL' IS PERHAPS RATHER A STRONG WORD. BUT WE GIVE HINTS TO HOUSEHOLDERS, AND WE ISSUE 'GRAVE WARNINGS.'"

(Mr. Punch, however, is glad to note that more drastic regulations are about to be enforced.)]

* * * * *

THE WATCH DOGS.