Chapter I: Part 1

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOL. 159.

July 14th, 1920.

CHARIVARIA.

We understand that it has now been decided that the Ex-Kaiser will travel to England for his trial by way of the Channel Tunnel.

* * *

A new coal war is anticipated by _The Daily Express_. The difficulty is in knowing where the last coal war ended and this one will begin.

* * *

We understand that the Government fixture card is not yet complete and they still have a few open dates for Peace Conferences (away matches) for medium teams.

* * *

The world's largest blasting-furnace has been opened at Ebbw Vale. It is expected however that others will flare up immediately the CHANCELLOR'S proposals go through.

* * *

"Militarism has created a dragon whose fangs will never properly be drawn," announces a writer in a Sunday paper. This charge against MR. WINSTON CHURCHILL'S dentist is, in our opinion, most unkind.

* * *

The report that the Turks had appealed to the Allies to stop the new war in Asia Minor turns out to be incorrect. What the Turks demand is that the Allies shall stop the Greek end of it.

* * *

"I would like to take a great piece of England back to America as a souvenir of the happy time I have recently spent there," exclaimed Miss MARY PICKFORD to a reporter in Belgium. Arrangements, we hear, are now being hastily made to offer her the whole of Ireland if she will take it away during this month.

* * *

According to a local paper a lawyer living in Birmingham, returning unexpectedly from the theatre, discovered two burglars at work in his library. It is reported, however, that the intruders with great presence of mind immediately retained him for their defence.

* * *

Several workhouses in the South of England now possess tennis-courts and bowling-greens. It is satisfactory to note that preparations are at last being made to receive the New Poor.

* * *

We are glad to learn that the two members of a well-known club in the City who inadvertently took away their own umbrellas have now agreed to exchange same, so that the reputation of the club shall not suffer.

* * *

A Warwickshire miner summoned for not sending his child to school is reported to have pleaded that he saw a red triangle danger notice above the word "school" and therefore kept his daughter away.

* * *

"We must have support," said the POSTMASTER-GENERAL last week. We can only say that we always buy our stamps at one of his post-offices.

* * *

A little domestic tragedy was enacted in London last week. It appears that a small boy, on being offered a penny by his mother, who had just returned from the winter sales, refused it, saying that he was not allowed to accept money from strangers.

* * *

An official of the New York Y.W.C.A. inquires whether a woman of thirty years is young. A more fair question would be, "When is a woman thirty years of age?"

* * *

President C.W. ELIOT, of Harvard University, says Britishers drink tea because it feeds the brain. Our own opinion is that we drink it because we have tasted our coffee.

* * *

So many servant-girls are being enticed from one house to another that several houses now display the notice, "Visitors are requested to refrain from stealing the servants."

* * *

Under a new Order public-houses will not open until seven in the evening on Sundays. This seems to be another attempt to discourage early rising on that day.

* * *

Two men have been arrested at Oignies, Pas de Calais, for selling stones as coal. We fancy we know the coal-dealer from whom they got this wrinkle.

* * *

Speaking at Sheffield University last week, Sir ERIC GEDDES said he hoped to see the day when there would be a degree of Transport. What we're getting now, we gather, can't really be called Transport at all.

* * *

A live mussel measuring six inches has been found inside a codfish at Newcastle. We expect that if the truth was known the mussel snapped at the cod-fish and annoyed it.

* * *

A soldier arrested at Dover told the police he was _Sydney Carton_, the hero of _The Tale of Two Cities_. He is supposed to be an impostor.

* * *

A market-gardener in Surrey is said to be the double of Mr. WINSTON CHURCHILL. Since this announcement it is stated that the poor fellow has been inundated with messages of sympathy.

* * *

"The secret of success," says Mr. W. HARRIS, "is hard work." Still, some people would scorn to take advantage of another man's secret.

* * *

Wives, said the Judge of the Clerkenwell County Court recently, are not so ignorant that they do not know what their husband's earnings are. There is no doubt, however, that many workmen's wives simply pocket the handful of bank-notes their husbands fling them on Saturday night without stopping to count them.

* * *

There were no buyers, it is stated, for fifty thousand blankets offered by the Disposals Board last week. We have all along maintained that, though it would take time, the Board would wear its adversaries down.

* * *

According to an official list recently published the Government employs over three thousand charwomen. The number is said to be so great that they have to take it in turns to empty Mr. AUSTEN CHAMBERLAIN'S portfolio.

* * * * *

* * * * *

A CRICKET MANNERISM.

A writer commented recently in an article in _Punch_ on the advantage to a cricketer of some harmless mannerism, giving as an instance Mr. P.F. WARNER'S habit of hitching up the left side of his trousers and patting the ground seven times with his bat. This homely touch reminded me irresistibly of Rankin. Not that Rankin resembles Mr. WARNER even remotely in any other way. But Rankin has a mannerism, one which is fairly harmless, too, as a general rule. If on one occasion, of which I will tell you, it had unfortunate results, there was then a combination of circumstances for which Rankin was not entirely responsible. That much I now feel myself able to admit. At the time I could see nothing good about Rankin at all.

Rankin resides in our village of Littleborough, and is by trade what is known as a jobbing gardener. On Thursdays he is my gardener, on Wednesdays Mrs. Dobbie's gardener, and so on. On Saturday afternoons he plays cricket. Or at least he dresses in (among other garments) a pair of tight white flannel trousers and a waistcoat, and joins the weekly game.

Recently we met in deadly combat the neighbouring village of Smallwick. Away into the unchronicled past runs the record of these annual contests. Each village hints that it has gained the greater number of victories; each is inclined in its heart to believe that the other one has actually done so--because, as I suppose, the agony of defeat leaves a more lasting impression than the joy of victory. But I digress. We have not even got to Rankin's mannerism yet.

Rankin's mannerism is the habit of plunging his hands into his trouser pockets. A very ordinary one, you will say; but not when carried to the extent to which Rankin carries it. It is useless for Rankin to field at short slip, for instance. The only time he did so a catch struck him sharply in the lower chest (and fell to the ground, of course) before he had time to take his hands out of his pockets. When he is batting he crams one hand into his pocket between each delivery. As he wears a large batting glove and his trousers are very tight (as I mentioned before) this is a matter of some difficulty. In fact we usually attribute the smallness of his scores to its unsteadying effect.

How he ever survived five years of military service without being shot for persistently carrying his hands in his pockets while on parade, to the detriment of good order and military discipline, I can never understand. Surely some Brass-hat, inspecting Rankin's regiment, must have noticed that Rankin's hands were in his pockets when he should have been presenting arms? I can only presume that they all loved Rankin, and love is blind. Well, he is quite a good chap. I like him myself.

We now come to the day of the Smallwick _v._ Littleborough match.

Smallwick lost the toss and went out to field, and, as one of their players had not arrived, Rankin went with them as a substitute.

We lost three wickets for only ten runs, and then I went in. It was one of my rare cricket days. I felt, I knew, that I should make runs--not much more than twenty, of course, but then twenty is a big score for Littleborough. And I felt like twenty at least.

Rankin was fielding at deep long-on, close to the tent; but they had no one at square leg, which is my special direction on my twenty days. Presently the bowler offered me a full pitch on the leg side. I timed it successfully, and had no doubt of having added four to my score, when, to my astonishment, I saw a fieldsman running from the direction of the hedge. The next moment he had brought off a very creditable catch.

It did not dawn on me at first that this was their eleventh man, arrived at that moment. When it did, I could not help laughing to think that he should imagine he could rush in like that while his substitute was still fielding. Then I heard the bowler appeal to the umpire, and to my horror I heard the umpire (their umpire) say "Out."

"But they can't have twelve men fielding," I cried. "The substitute is still there."

"You're out, Sir," said the umpire haughtily. "The substitoot has already retired. 'E's standing there watching the game with 'is 'ands in 'is pockets."

* * * * *

A SELF-STARTER.

"Born of an Iris moter and a Scots father, in Chicago, U.S.A., Mr.
----'s ability for the stage developed very early."--_New Zealand
Paper._

* * * * *

"Within the square of spectators were paraded about two thousand Girl
Guides. It delighted the eye to see the companies march with precision
and smartness, while the ear was charmed and the marital spirit stirred
by the music of the pipes and drums."--_Scotch Paper._

So _that_'s the idea.

* * * * *

"Soon we could make out the Sultan's Palace, from which the tired
'Hunter of the East' was now unwinding his 'nose of light.'"-- _----
Magazine._

For further details of this remarkable organ see LEAR'S "Dong with the Luminous Nose."

* * * * *

PHILOSOPHERS.

We are all different, and often our differences are of the widest. Some men can be knocked prostrate by the most trifling disappointment, while others can extract comfort or even positive benefit from what looks like complete disaster--such as the Cambridge youth I met last week, raving about TURNER'S "Fighting Téméraire."

"But I didn't know you were interested in pictures," I said.

"Oh, yes, I've always been, in a way," he replied; "but it wasn't till the rain ruined the first day of the Varsity match that I ever had a real chance to get to the National Gallery, and when it came down like blazes again on Tuesday I went back there. Did you ever see such painting? And the pathos of it too! And then that frosty morning scene in the same room! Why, TURNER was too wonderful."

How some of the other dampened enthusiasts tided over their loss I can only guess; but this ardent one reminded me of the Shipwrecked Entomologist, and I placed him on a niche somewhere near that radiant soul.

And who was he?

Well, he was the curator of his own department in some Indian museum--I think at Calcutta--and when the time came for his holiday he took a passage for Japan on a little tramp steamer. Everything went well until a few hours out of Shanghai, when a typhoon began to blow with terrific force. The ship was driven on the coast of Korea, where she set about breaking up, and only with the greatest difficulty did the passengers and crew get to shore, bruised and saturated, without anything but their clothes and what their pockets could hold. Some lives were lost, but my man was saved.

It was a desolate part, with nothing but the poorest huts for shelter, dirty and verminous, so that the discomforts of the land were almost equal to the perils of the sea.

Naturally, on his return to Calcutta the curator was plied with questions. How did be feel about it? Wasn't it an awful experience? If ever a man deserved sympathy it was he. And so forth. But he wouldn't rise.

"Sympathy?" he said. "Good Heavens! I don't want sympathy. Why, I had the time of my life. Do you know that during the night in that Korean hovel I found five absolutely new kinds of bug."

E.V.L.

* * * * *

"Notice to the public, that John ----, Toronto, will not be responsible
for debts hereafter contracted by any one."--_Canadian Paper._

Very sensible of him.

* * * * *

BRITISH HOUSEWIFE. "DO YOU REALLY MEAN IT?"

MINER. "WELL, PART OF IT, ANYWAY."]

* * * * *

* * * * *

SANTAMINGOES.

A FANCY.

[The santamingo is a kind of Oriental bird believed by foolish sailor-
men to confer on its possessor great content and peace of mind.]

East from the Mahanadi and north of the Nicobar
You will come to Evening Island where the santamingoes are;
Their wings are sunrise-orange and their tails are starlight-blue;
You catch a santamingo and all your dreams come true.

They've a crest of flaming scarlet and a purple-golden breast,
And their voice is like all the music that ever you liked the best,
And their eyes are like all the comfort that ever you hoped to find;
You catch a santamingo and you'll get peace of mind.

You won't find buried treasures, you won't get sudden luck,
But things'll just go smoothly that used to get somehow stuck--
The little things that matter, the trumpery things that please,
You catch your santamingo and you're always sure of these.

You don't get thrones and kingdoms, you don't turn great or good,
But you know you're just in tune with things, you know you're understood,
And wherever you chance to be is home and any old time's the best
When you've got your santamingo to keep your heart at rest.

If ever you've dreamed of a golden day when nothing at at all went wrong,
Or a pal who'd want no tellings but would somehow just belong,
Or a place that said, "I was made for you"--well, sailor-men tell you
flat,
You catch your santamingo and you'll find it all like that.

* * * * *

I've sailed from the Mahanadi to north of the Nicobar,
But I can't find Evening Island where the santamingoes are,
Though I've taken salt to put on their tails and all that a hunter
should--
Perhaps you can't _really_ catch them; but don't you wish you could?

H.B.

* * * * *

"Capitalist who will consider financing Canadian oil fields or will
send English theologist to investigate property."--_Daily Paper._

And do the clerical work, we suppose.

* * * * *

From a description of the V.C.'s at Buckingham Palace:--

"There were a sergeant-major arranged in nine separate groups, and an
attempt had been made to get old comrades together as far as possible."
--_Provincial Paper._

The reassembling of the sergeant-major must have taken a bit of doing.

* * * * *

MY RAT.

He visits me at least once every day. His favourite time is the hour of tea, when the family and staff may be expected to be at home; but sometimes he honours us with an additional call at the luncheon hour. He emerges from his deep hole beneath an ivy root, takes the air up and down the paths of my rockery, glances in at the drawing-room window, passes on to the back premises, and so home.

There is nothing furtive about his movements. His manner is that of one who has purchased the mansion and its appurtenances but does not wish to disturb the sitting tenants. It is his duty to sea that the premises are properly cared for, but for the present he has no desire to take possession. It is beautiful weather and the simple life out-of-doors contents him.

He is a brown rat. I write of his sex with confidence because his urbanity is that of a polished gentleman of the world; no feminine creature could ever display it. A female rat who had bought the house would eagerly try to get in and drive us forth. But not so my rat. He discharges the function of a landlord as considerately as he can; after all, even a landlord must be allowed the rights of inspection of his own property.

At first I regarded him as merely an ordinary intrusive brown rat. I laid down poisonous pills composed of barium carbonate and flour. He did not take offence; he understood our human limitations. He showed by a jaunty cock of the eye that all to understand is all to pardon. His daily visits continued without abatement.

It has been suggested to me that we should await his regular calls with dogs, blood-thirsty terriers. I cannot take so scurvy an advantage of his confidence.

* * * * *

I have sinned. The fault is less mine than that of the High Court of Parliament. I was bidden to study the penalties laid down for those who do not proceed to the destruction of their rats. When I weighed my landlord rat against five treasury notes I confess that in an hour of meanness I permitted the notes to tip the scale. I prepared phosphor paste and laid a trail of this loathsome condiment upon the path trodden every afternoon by my rat.

He came as usual on the day after that on which I had basely planned his murder--Heaven forgive me!--that I might escape a trifling fine, and he deigned to partake of my hospitality. Twenty-four hours later, when duty summoned him once more at the hour of tea, his eye was dim and he staggered slightly in his gait. He was still able to go his rounds, but since that tragic afternoon I have seen him no more.

My family eyes me with suspicion. They look for the rat, which no longer arrives at his accustomed hour. My cook has given notice. I alone bear the burden of the fatal secret.

* * * * *

Saved! What care I for five paltry pounds now that our rat has recovered from his indisposition and has hastened to re-visit his property? The phosphor paste, like arsenic, has added brightness to his eye and brought a beautiful lustre to his smooth brown coat. He has softened in his manner and tends towards friendship. There is less of the grand air, less assertion of the vast gap which yawns between the landlord and the tenant. Presently, if I continue to prove worthy of his condescension, my rat will eat phosphor paste out of my hand.

* * * * *

* * * * *

From the obituary notice of an octogenarian:--

"He was a keen chronologist, and possessed a valuable collection of
shells."--_Provincial Paper._

Picked up, no doubt, on the sands of time.

* * * * *

THE LITTLE HORSE.

[The following fragment is taken from the play, _David Lloyd George_, which we understand may some day be produced at the Lyric Opera House, Hammersmith, as a companion-piece to _Abraham Lincoln_.]

The scene is laid in the House of Commons, where Sir FREDERICK BANBURY has moved the rejection of the Poets and Verse (Nationalisation) Bill.

_Sir FREDERICK BANBURY is speaking._
But it stands to reason,
If you propose to pay them just the same
Whether they write a little or a lot,
They won't write _anything_. There will not be
Sufficient stimulus. It's human nature,
And human nature is unchangeable.
Do you imagine, Sir, that KEATS or SHELLEY
Would have produced such valuable work,
So large an output, if this precious Bill
Had been in operation at the time?
We should have had no SHAKSPEARE. And, besides,
It means the death of British poetry,
Because we can't continue to compete
With foreign countries.
_A Labour Member._ I am not a lawyer
Nor I am not a manufacturer,
But earned my bread these five-and-forty years,
Sweating and sweating. I know what sweat is....
_An Hon. Member._
You're not the only person who has sweated.
_Labour Member._
At any rate I sweated more than you did.
_Mr. SPEAKER._
I do not think these constant interruptions
Are really helping us.
_Labour Member._ So you may take it
That what I utter is an honest word,
A plain, blunt, honest and straightforward word,
Neither adorned with worthless flummery
And tricks of language--for I have no learning--
Nor yet with false and empty rhetoric
Like lawyers' speeches. I am not a lawyer,
I thank my stars that I am not a lawyer,
And can without a spate of parleying
Briefly expound, as I am doing now,
The whole caboodle. As for this here Bill,
So far as it means Nationalising verse,
We shall support it. On the other hand,
So far as it means interferences
With the free liberty of working-men
To write their poetry when and how they like,
We will not _have_ the Bill. So now you know.
_Mr. ASQUITH._
It was remarked, I think by ARISTOTLE,
That wisdom is not always to the wise;
To which opinion, if we may include
In that august and jealous category
The President of the Board of Ululation,
I am prepared most freely to subscribe.
When was there ever since the early Forties
A more grotesque and shameless mockery
Of the austere and holy principles
Which Liberalism like an altar-flame
Has guarded through the loose irreverent years
Than this inept, this disingenuous,
This frankly disingenuous attempt;
To smuggle past the barrier of this House
An article so plainly contraband
As this unlicens'd and contagious Bill--
A Bill which, it is not too much to say,
Insults the conscience of the British Empire?
I will not longer, Sir, detain the House;
Indeed I cannot profitably add
To what I said in 1892.
Speaking at Manchester I used these words:--
"If in the inconstant ferment of their minds
The KING'S advisers can indeed discover
No surer ground of principle than this;
If we have here their final contribution
To the most clamant and profound conundrum
Ever proposed for statesmanship to solve,
Then are we watching at the bankruptcy
Of all that wealth of intellect and power
Which has made England great. If that be true
We may put FINIS to our history.
But I for one will never lend my suffrage
To that conclusion."
[_An Ovation._
_MR. DAVID LLOYD GEORGE._ Mr. SPEAKER, Sir,
I do not intervene in this discussion
Except to say how much I deprecate
The intemperate tone of many of the speakers--
Especially the Honourable Member
For Allways Dithering--about this Bill,
This tiny Bill, this teeny-weeny Bill.
What _is_ it, after all? The merest trifle!
The merest trifle--no, not tipsy-cake--
No trickery in it! Really one would think
The Government had nothing else to do
But sit and listen to offensive speeches.
How can the horse, the patient horse, go on
If people will keep dragging at the reins?
He has so terrible a load to bear,
And right in front there is a great big hill.
The horse is very tired, and it is raining.
Poor little horse! But yonder, at the top,
Look, look, there is a rainbow in the sky,
The promise of fair weather, and beyond
There is a splendidly-appointed stable,
With oats and barley, or whatever 'tis
That horses eat, while smiling all around
Stretch out the prairies of Prosperity,
Cornfields and gardens, all that sort of thing.
That's where the horse is going. But, you see,
The horse has got to climb the great big hill
Before he gets there. Oh, you must see that.
Then let us cease this petty bickering;
Let us have no more dragging at the reins.
What _is_ this Bill when all is said and done?
Surely this House, surely this mighty nation,
Which did so much for horses in the War,
Will not desert this little horse at last
Because of what calumniators say--
Newspaper-owners--_I_ know who they are--
About this Bill! No, no, of course it won't.
We will take heart and gallop up the hill,
We will climb up together to the rainbow;
We will go on to where the rainbow ends--
I know where that is, for I am a Welshman.
It is a field, a lovely little field,
Where there are buttercups and daffodils,
And long rich grass and very shady trees.
Hold on a little, and the horse will get there,
Only, I ask you, let the horse have rein.
That is my message to the British nation:
"Hold on! Hold fast! But do not hold too tight!"

[_An Ovation. A Division is taken. The Ayes have it._

A.P.H.

* * * * *

TRUE SPORTSMANLIKE BEHAVIOUR.

"NO, REALLY, I'M PRACTICALLY CERTAIN IT WAS IN. FIFTEEN-LOVE."]

"NO. YOUR SECOND ONE WAS IN ALL RIGHT, I THINK. FIFTEEN-LOVE."]

"NO, REALLY, I'M PRACTICALLY CERTAIN IT WAS IN. FIFTEEN-LOVE."]

"WELL, YOU WERE WRONG, THAT'S ALL. FIFTEEN-LOVE."]

"MY VERY GOOD IDIOT, YOU AREN'T. FIFTEEN-LOVE."]

"YOU'RE A LIAR! YOU'RE NOT. FIFTEEN-LOVE."]

* * * * *

_Society Gossip Note._ "I also saw the Honourable Pamela Puntah, attended by a gorgeous creation in tangerine orange and cornflower blue, with hat and handkerchief to match."

[It was remarked that at Henley the men's river attire quite outshone the ladies'.]]

* * * * *

WORD CHAINS.

Sheila Davies and her brother had cycled over to play tennis. They sat, with John and myself, on the steps and watched the rain falling.

"As a matter of general interest," said Arthur Davies to me, "when a man invites his friends and neighbours over to play tennis and it pours with rain all the time, what is the correct thing for him to do?"

"As a matter of general interest," I answered, "the good host will send the ladies to play the piano, if any, and to talk scandal, whether there is any or not. He will himself conduct the men of the party to the billiard-room or the smoking-room and offer them cigarettes and whisky--if any."

"Ah," said Davies, "then it isn't usual just to keep them sitting miserably on the steps watching the net float away?"

John, on whose steps we were sitting, felt the need of speech.

"I have often wondered," he said, turning to Miss Davies, "how your brother ever got into such a nice family as yours. How do you keep so cheerful with it always about?"

"One gets used to it in time," said Miss Davies.

"I suppose so," said John. "After all, we have the same sort of family disaster in Alan, but we manage to bear up."

Davies rose.

"You and I don't seem popular here," he said to me. "Will you conduct me to the billiard-room or the smoking-room? I am in need of a wash."

"As a matter of general interest," said John to Miss Davies, "is it the correct thing to wash _before_ setting out to visit friends, or can it be left until some hours after arrival?"

Miss Davies sighed heavily.

"If you two are going to sit here thinking of clever remarks to make about each other I shall go home. For goodness' sake let's pretend we are enjoying ourselves."

"I _am_ enjoying myself," said John plaintively; "I've been wanting to say what I really think of your brother for years."

"Well, don't do it now. Things are miserable enough without having discussions on Arthur. Let's all have a game at something, shall we?"

"Splendid idea," said her brother. "What about tennis?"

"We might get into bathing togs and play polo," I suggested.

"That's not a bad notion," said John, "and then he needn't have a wash until to-morrow."

"I suggest," continued Miss Davies, "that we play at Word Chains."

Davies buried his face in his hands and groaned.

"It sounds fine," I said gallantly. "What is it?"

"Well, it's really a sort of mind exercise. They recommend it in those courses, you know," said Miss Davies, "er--'it stimulates a logical sequence in reasoning and quickens the mental processes.'"

"Is that what they say about it?" asked John fearfully.

"But it makes a splendid game," added Miss Davies eagerly. "Let me explain it to you and you'll see. First of all we think of a word, such as--er-- 'margarine.'"

"Why?" asked John.

"It's part of the game, of course," said Miss Davies indignantly.

"Oh, I see--of course. How stupid of me!" said John.

"Then we think of another word quite different, such as--"

"'Hippopotamus,'" I suggested.

"That's right," said Miss Davies.

I stood up and bowed.

"Well, I'm hanged!" said John. "Jolly good, Alan. However did you guess it? Has he won?" he asked Miss Davies.

"Of course not," said she; "we haven't begun yet."

I sat down again hurriedly.

"Then," continued Miss Davies, "we take turns, starting with the word 'margarine' and making a chain, each word being connected in some way with the one before it. And whoever can get to the word 'hippopotamus' first has won."

"One hippopotamus?" asked John.

"WON," said Miss Davies sweetly.

Her brother groaned again.

"I'll just give you an easy example," went on Miss Davies enthusiastically, "and then we'll begin. Take the words 'fire' and 'nigger.' A good chain would be 'fire--coal--black--nigger.' Do you see?

John and I made sounds expressing that we thought we did. Davies just went on groaning.

"Very well," said Miss Davies, "we'll begin. Now don't forget. We start with 'margarine' and try to get to 'hippopotamus.' The great thing is to keep the word 'hippopotamus' in your mind all the time and keep trying to work towards it. Are you ready? Right! I'll start with 'grease.'"

"Greece?" said John, looking startled.

"Yes, margarine--grease," explained Miss Davies.

"Oh, I see," said John, "er--oil."

I thought seriously for a moment.

"Salad," I said, looking round for approval.

"Splendid," said Miss Davies. "Now you, Arthur."

"I refuse--Oh, all right," he said. "Where have we--'salad'--er-- 'lobster.'"

Do you catch the idea, as it were? We seemed to fall into the way of it in a moment. Once we had tried we progressed at a tremendous rate. Perhaps we are all very clever, or perhaps it was really easier than it seems in the telling, but looking back the conversation seems to have been simply brilliant.

Well, here's an idea of how we went on, anyway, and you can judge for yourselves (Davies, you remember, has just snapped out "Lobster"):--

_Miss Davies_ (quick as lightning). Shrimp.

_John_. Whiskers. (A very subtle one, this.)

_Me_. Beard. (Rather weak effort.)

_Davies._ Moustache. (Weaker still; received with groans.)

_Miss Davies_ (quick as another lightning). CHARLIE CHAPLIN. (Loud cheers here and laughter, followed by a long pause while John thinks.) At last:--

_John._ MARY PICKFORD.

_Me_ (after another pause). DOUGLAS FAIRBANKS.

_Davies_ (indicating with a wave of the hand that it has been forced on him). D.W. GRIFFITHS.

There is a slight hold-up at this point while Miss Davies tells her brother that he is not trying, and he says he knows he isn't. Miss Davies gets back on to the track amidst applause, however, with:--

"Broken Blossoms."

After this things went on for a long time, hours and hours I should say. I remember that we mentioned among many subjects of interest sausage-rolls, horoscopes, hair-pins, Cleopatra's Needle and lung-wort. I must resist the temptation to tell the whole absorbing story in detail, and skip rapidly to the point where the chase reached the following interesting stage:--

_Miss Davies_ (still going strong). Whale.

_John_ (struggling hard but growing weak). Oil.

_Me_ (quite innocently). Grease.

_Davies_ (triumphantly). MARGARINE.

I looked at Miss Davies in embarrassment. John gazed round pitifully.

"But," he murmured weakly, "isn't that where we started?"

"Of course it is," said Miss Davies indignantly. "You've spoilt the whole game, Arthur."

"Well, I can't help it," said her brother; "I thought that was the word we were after. What was it, anyway?"

We all looked at the sky and thought hard.

"Hanged if I know," said John.

"I'm sure I don't," I said.

"Well, isn't that ridiculous?" said Miss Davies.

"Of course it is," said her brother brutally; "I _knew_ it was ridiculous from the beginning. _You_ said it quickened the mental processes. Would memory be one of them?"

"Let's go inside and have some tea," said John.

We crept quietly indoors.

* * * * *

Halfway through tea Miss Davies suddenly waved her teaspoon aloft. We looked at her and saw a great light shining in her eyes.

"Hip--hip--hippopotamus!" she shrieked.

We all agreed that Miss Davies had won.

* * * * *

* * * * *

MAGNANIMITY.

There was once a satirical pup
Who with newspaper rule was fed up,
So he wrote bitter rhymes
Which disparaged _The Times_
But were praised in its weekly _Lit. Supp._

* * * * *

"The Canadian officials refused to allow her to land because she did
not proopse to carry out her original intention tom arry Captain ----,
and the New Yorkaut horities declined to interfere with the Canadian
decision."--_Daily Paper._

But what we really want to know is where Tom and 'Arry come in.

* * * * *

"NEW YORK, Sunday.

The s.s. Minnehaha left here yesterday for London with fifty crates of
American birds and a great variety of animals.

Three trunks were carried for the oppossum to build in and for the
beavers to gnaw."--_Daily Mirror._

Nothing is said about the other creatures' luggage.

* * * * *

From the time-table of a Hampshire motor-service:--

"The Fares between any points on any route will be found where the
vertical line of figures under the name of one of the points meets the
horizontal line of figures which terminates in the name of the other of
the two points between which it is desired to travel."

The Hampshire Hog needs to be a very learned pig.

* * * * *

_Margaret._ "WE'RE PLAYING AT WEDDINGS. I'M THE BRIDE AND BETTY'S THE BRIDESMAID."

_Mother._ "BUT WHERE'S THE BRIDEGROOM?"

_Margaret._ "OH, THIS IS A VERY QUIET WEDDING."]

* * * * *

THE REEFS.

All the grim rocks that stand guard about Scilly--
Wingletang, Great Smith and Little Granilly,
The Barrel of Butter, Dropnose and Hellweather--
Started to boast of their conquests together,
Of drowned men and gallant, tall vessels laid low
While gulls wheeled about them like flurries of snow
And green combers romped at them smashing in thunder,
Gurgling and booming in caverns down under,
Sending their diamond-drops flying in showers.
"Oh," said the reefs, "what a business is ours!
Since saints in coracles paddled from Erin
(Fishing our waters for sinners and herrin')
And purple-sailed triremes of Hamilco came
To the Islands of Tin, we've played at the game.
We shattered the galleys of conquering Rome,
The galleons of PHILIP that scudded for home
(The sea-molluscs slime on their glittering gear);
We plundered the plundering French privateer,
We caught the great Indiaman head in the wind
And gutted her hold of the treasures of Ind;
We sank a whole fleet of three-deckers one night
(The drift of the sand keeps their culverins bright),
And cloudy tea-clippers that raced from Canton
Swept into our clutches--and never went on.
Come steel leviathans scorning disaster
We scrapped them as fast--if anything faster.
So pick up your pilot and take a cross-bearing,
Sound us and chart us from Lion to Tearing,
And ring us with lighthouses, day-marks and buoys,
The gales are our hunters, the fogs our decoys.
We shall not go hungry; we grin and we wait,
Black-fanged and foam-drabbled, the wolves at the Gate."

PATLANDER.

* * * * *

AWAY TO THE MEADOWS!

Although the cost of everything is on the rise there are still a few good things that quite a little money can buy. One pound, for example--or, if you prefer it, twenty shillings--can work wonders by taking (under the auspices of the Children's Country Holiday Fund) a London child away from our smoke and grime for a fortnight of country air and surprises, excitements and joys. The Fund (the Hon. Treasurer of which is the Earl of ARRAN, 18, Buckingham Street, Strand, London) must not now be restricted because lodgings and railway fares are dearer. Last year the sum asked for each child was just half what is now required; but the increase is necessary. Yet even with the increase it is not great, considering the good that it can do! In spite of all the other claims of the moment upon his readers' generosity, Mr. Punch trusts that this modest and most excellent ameliorative organisation will not be neglected.

* * * * *

"The police are divided in their opinions as to whether Mamie is still
alive or whether she has gone to Canada."--_Provincial Paper._

Why this "down" on the Dominion?

* * * * *

JOHN BULL. "LET ME SEE, WE MUST BE ESPECIALLY GENEROUS TO-DAY. THE COLLECTION IS FOR THE RESTORATION FUND."]

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

_Monday, July 5th._--When the Germans left Peking after the Boxer Rebellion they took with them the astronomical instruments which had hung for centuries on its walls. How the Celestial equivalent of _Old Moore_ has managed to translate the message of the stars without their assistance I cannot imagine; but the Chinese Government does not appear to be worrying, for, though it was specifically provided at Versailles that the instruments should be returned, China has omitted to sign the Peace Treaty.

COLONEL WEDGWOOD.]

There are the makings of a great statesman in Sir JOHN REES. Some apprehension having been expressed lest France should prohibit the importation of silk mourning crêpe and so injure an old British industry, he was quick to suggest a remedy. "Would it not be possible," he asked in his most insinuating tones, "to have a deal between silk and champagne?" And the House, which is not yet entirely composed of "Pussyfeet," gave him an approving cheer.

A certain General GOLOVIN having published statements reflecting on Mr. CHURCHILL'S conduct of the campaign in North Russia last year, that section of the House which is always ready to take the word of any foreigner as against that of any Englishman, particularly of any English Minister, at once assumed that the charges were correct. The SECRETARY OF STATE FOR WAR was in his place, with the light of battle in his eye, ready to meet his enemies in the gate. But by the time Mr. BONAR LAW had done with them there was not much left of the charges. So far as the statements were true, he said, they merely repeated what was already familiar to the House. Everybody knew that the Government was helping the anti-Bolshevik forces last year. But the story that Mr. CHURCHILL had taken his orders from Admiral KOLTCHAK was both untrue and absurd. He had simply carried out the policy of the Government, a policy which, though some hon. Members did not seem to appreciate it, had now been altered.

Committee on the Finance Bill saw the annual assault on the tea duty. "We are going to drop this duty directly we are in a position to do so," said Commander KENWORTHY, with his eye on the Treasury Bench. "Who are we?" shouted the Coalitionists; and it presently appeared that "we" did not include Sir DONALD MACLEAN, but did include Colonel WEDGWOOD, who, as becomes one of his name, was all for a generous tea-pot.

Undeterred by his failure over tea, Commander KENWORTHY next attacked the duty on films, complaining _inter alia_, "Mr. CHAPLIN is taxed twenty pounds for every thousand feet." Mr. CHAMBERLAIN defended the tax on general grounds, but wisely avoided Mr. CHAPLIN'S feet, over which it is notoriously easy to trip.

The debate on the beer duty shattered one more illusion. It is an article of faith with the "Wee Frees" that Sir GEORGE YOUNGER is the power behind the scenes, and that Mr. LLOYD GEORGE is a mere marionette, who only exists to do his bidding. Yet here was the autocrat confessing, _quâ_ brewer, that the latest addition to the beer duty was the biggest surprise of his life.

_Tuesday, July 6th._--The LORD CHANCELLOR'S request for leave of absence in order that he might attend the Spa Conference was granted. Lord CREWE'S remark, that it was "a matter of regret that the Government had to depend upon the noble and learned lord for legal assistance," might perhaps have been less ambiguously worded. At any rate Lord BIRKENHEAD thought it necessary to allay any possible apprehensions by adding that he would be accompanied by the ATTORNEY-GENERAL.

The gist of Mr. CHURCHILL'S comprehensive reply to allegations of waste at Chilwell was that there were not enough sheds to cover all the stores, and that to build additional accommodation would cost more than it would save. There was a pleasant Hibernian flavour about his admission that the goods, "if they remained in their present condition, would, of course, deteriorate."

Who says that D.O.R.A. has outlived her usefulness? The HOME SECRETARY announced that the sale of chocolates in theatres is still _verboten_, so the frugal swain, whose "best girl" has a healthy appetite, may breathe again.

_Mr. Clynes._ "LOOK HERE--IF THE PRICE OF ALE KEEPS ON GOING UP LIKE THIS I'LL HAVE TO SPEAK TO AUSTEN CHAMBERLAIN ABOUT IT."]

Mr. CLYNES, usually so cautious, was in a reckless mood. First he tried to move the adjournment over the GOLOVIN revelations, and was informed by the SPEAKER that a report of doubtful authenticity, relating to events that happened over a year ago, could hardly be described as either "urgent" or "definite."

Next, on the Finance Bill, he shocked his temperance colleagues by boldly demanding cheaper beer. But, although he received the powerful support of Admiral Sir R. HALL, he failed to soften the heart of the CHANCELLOR, who declared that he must have his increased revenue, and that the beer-drinker must pay his share of it.

Mr. CHAMBERLAIN turned a more sympathetic ear to the bark of another sea-dog, Admiral ADAIR, who sought a reduction of the tax on champagne, and mentioned the horrifying fact that even City Companies were abandoning its consumption. He received the unexpected support of Lieutenant-Commander KENWORTHY, who declared that Yorkshire miners always had a bottle after their day's work and denounced an impost that would rob a poor man of his "boy." Eventually the CHANCELLOR agreed to reduce the new _ad valorem_ duty by a third. He might have made the same reduction in the case of cigars but for the declaration of a Labour Member that this was becoming "a rich man's Budget from top to bottom."

_Wednesday, July 7th._--Never was Lord Haldane's power of clear thinking employed to better advantage than in his lucid exposition of the Duplicands and Feu-duties (Scotland) Bill. I would not like to assert positively that all the Peers present fully grasped the momentous fact that a duplicand was a "casualty" and might be sometimes twice the feu-duty and sometimes three times that amount; but they understood enough to agree that it was a very fearful wild-fowl and ought to be restrained by law.

After this piquant _hors-d'oeuvre_ they settled down to a solid joint of national finance, laid before them by Lord MIDLETON. I am afraid they would have found it rather indigestible but for the sauce provided by Lord INCHCAPE, who was positively skittish in his comments upon the extravagance of the Government, and on one occasion even indulged in a pun. In his view the Ministry of Transport was an entirely superfluous creation, solely arising out of the supposed necessity of finding a new job for Sir ERIC GEDDES. I suppose the PRIME MINISTER said, "Here's a square peg, look you; let us dig a hole round it."

The LORD CHANCELLOR'S reply was vigorous but not altogether convincing. His description of the Government as a body of harassed and anxious economists did not altogether tally with his subsequent picture of the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER "always resisting proposals for expenditure made by his colleagues in the Cabinet." Despite his eloquence the Peers passed Lord MIDLETON'S motion by 95 votes to 23.

The Commons made good progress with the Finance Bill, though there was a good deal of justifiable criticism of its phraseology. The SECRETARY OF THE TREASURY admitted that there was one clause of which he did not understand a word, but wisely refused to specify it. Colonel WEDGWOOD advanced the remarkable proposition that "the workers in the long run pay all the taxes," but did not jump at Captain ELLIOTT'S suggestion that in that case it would save trouble if the CHANCELLOR were to levy all the taxes on the working classes direct. When asked to extend further relief to charities Mr. CHAMBERLAIN sought a definition of "charity." Would it apply, for example, to "the association of a small number of gentlemen in distress obeying the law of self-preservation in the face of world-forces which threaten to sweep them out of existence"? I seem to hear _Mr. Wilkins Micawber_ reply, "The answer is in the affirmative."

_Thursday, July 8th._--In the absence of the LORD CHANCELLOR the Gas Regulation Bill was entrusted to the UNDER-SECRETARY FOR AIR. The mingling of gas and air has before now been known to produce an explosion, but on this occasion Lord LONDONDERRY so deftly handled his material that not a single Peer objected to the Second Reading.

The proceedings in the Lower House were much more lively. Mr. STANTON threatened that there would be a general strike of Members of Parliament unless their salaries were increased; but Mr. BONAR LAW seemed to be more amused than alarmed at the prospect. The CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER was asked point-blank whether he was satisfied with the reduction in the bureaucracy during the last six months, and replied that he was not, and had therefore appointed Committees to investigate the staffs in seven of the Departments. The number is unfortunately suggestive.

"If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
"That they could get it clear?"

And we know what the Carpenter replied.

If an unnecessary amount of heat was engendered by the debate on General DYER'S case the fault must be partly attributed to the INDIAN SECRETARY'S opening speech. "Come, Montagu, for thou art early up" is a line from one of the most poignant scenes in SHAKSPEARE; but early rising, at Westminster as elsewhere, is not always conducive to good temper.

Members who thought with Sir EDWARD CARSON that General DYER had not been fairly treated resented Mr. MONTAGU'S insinuation that in that case they were condoning "frightfulness." Mr. CHURCHILL was more judicious, and Mr. BONAR LAW did his level best to keep his followers in the Government Lobby. But Sir A. HUNTER-WESTON'S reminder that by the instructions issued by the civil authority to General DYER he was ordered "to use all force necessary. No gathering of persons nor procession of any sort will be allowed. All gatherings will be fired on," confirmed them in the view that the GENERAL was being made a scape-goat. No fewer than 129 voted against the Government, whose majority would have been very minute but for the assistance of its usual foes, the "Wee Frees" and Labourites.

* * * * *

"Keble's own future should be all the more secure in a University in
which there is not only complete religious intolerance but complete
religious equality."--_Local Paper._

Poor old Oxford! Still "the home of lost causes" apparently.

* * * * *

"Few stories of London origin are more familiar than that of the cabby
who, regarding his day off as one of his indisputable rights, spent it
each week in riding about the City with a fellow cabby in order to keep
him company."--_Sunday Paper._

That's why they called him a busman and his holiday a busman's holiday.

* * * * *

"Do you remember the sad fate of a certain distinguished hostess who
found herself at midnight left with only a few hogs and elderly men to
entertain her pretty girl guests, and the sudden epidemic of rents that
necessitated a rush to the cloakroom for mending."--_Evening Paper._

The ripping property of tusks is well known.

* * * * *

* * * * *

FAR-EASTERN ENGLISH.

A returning circumnavigator reports that the passengers on the boat--a Japanese liner--coming from Yokohama to Honolulu were apprised of the fact that they were to have two Thursdays, one immediately following the other (and you can have no notion how long a second Thursday can be), owing to the crossing of the imaginary but very boring line which divides the two hemispheres. The official notice came from the captain's own hand. The ship had an American purser and an American chief steward, and there were many English on board, but the gallant little commander preferred to tackle the linguistic problem unaided. On Wednesday, therefore, the board had this announcement pinned to it:--"As she will be crossed the meridian of 180 to-morrow, so to-morrow again." Could, after the first blow, anything be clearer?

Meanwhile from Siam come the glad tidings that the British residents in Bangkok are to have a new paper. That the editorial promises are rich the following extracts sufficiently prove:--

"The news of English we tell the latest, writ in perfect style and earliest. Do a murder get commit, we hear and tell of it. Do a mighty chief die, we publish it in borders of sombre. Staff has each one been college and writes like the Kipling and the Dickens. We circulate every town and extortionate not for advertisements. Buy it."

* * * * *

RATHER A TALL ORDER.

"FOR SALE.

Grey flannel suit made by English tailor in January last, unworn Rs.
50; chest 39, height 8ft. 5 inches."--_Indian Paper._

* * * * *

"Small (Elephant) Pram, as new, extending back, 6 gns."--_Local Paper._

Thanks; but we always take our elephant in the side-car.

* * * * *

"Samuel Johnson, who had pleaded guilty yesterday to stealing a wallet,
was sentenced to three months' hard labour."--_Evening Paper._

When he comes out (if there is any truth in BOSWELL) he will make a pun.

* * * * *

VERS LIBRE.

There was an old man of Dunoon
Who always ate soup with a fork;
For he said, "As I eat
Neither fish, fowl or flesh
I should finish my dinner too quick."

* * * * *

"It is as well to note that during dry weather it is always advisable
to pass the watering-can along the rows of plants in order to moisten
the soil."--_Daily Paper._

This means, we think, "Water the garden."

* * * * *

"The City views with the gravest concern the existence of places like
Didcot."--_Daily Paper._

There is reason to believe that Didcot entertains precisely similar feelings in regard to the City.

* * * * *

COMMERCIAL CANDOUR.

"For Lightweight Motor Cycles there is no alternative to the ----
MAGNETO. Maximum Weight. Minimum Performance."--_Trade Paper._

"Reason and instinct dictate the smoking of a cigarette that will give
the minimum of pleasure at a moderate cost."--_Advt. in Evening Paper._

* * * * *

OUR PASTORAL.

"Hulloa, Melhuish," I said, "after all you had ideal weather for your _Midsummer Night's Dream_ yesterday."

"Ideal," said Melhuish moodily.

"Really, if you'd picked the day it couldn't have been better. You want peculiar atmospheric conditions for a pastoral, don't you? Just enough sun, not too much wind, temperature congenial for sitting out-of-doors. You had 'em all."

Melhuish nodded.

"Your garden must be looking like fairyland too now with the roses out and the trees in all their full summer greenery."

He nodded again.

"What a setting for the _Dream_! It drew a crowd, of course?"

"Yes, we drew the county."

I sighed regretfully. "How I wish I hadn't funked it, but with my lumbago I never dare risk damp grass and it looked so awfully like rain in the morning."

Melhuish suddenly got excited. "_Looked_ like rain!" he said violently. "It _did_ rain. It rained several drops. I never saw such drops, as big as saucers. Perhaps you didn't hear the thunder?"

"My dear bean," I said, "it was the thunder which put me off coming to see you as _Bottom_ and Mrs. Melhuish as _Titania_ in the most idyllic surroundings I can imagine."

"You wouldn't have seen us in any idyllic surroundings," said Melhuish. He had relapsed into moodiness again. I could see there was something serious.

"What happened, old friend?" I said gently.