THE REPUDIATION.THE REPUDIATION.Martin Luther(toShakespeare). "I SEE MY COUNTRYMEN CLAIM YOU AS ONE OF THEM. YOU MAY THANK GOD THAT YOU'RE NOT THAT. THEY HAVE MADE MY WITTENBERG—AY, AND ALL GERMANY—TO STINK IN MY NOSTRILS."
Martin Luther(toShakespeare). "I SEE MY COUNTRYMEN CLAIM YOU AS ONE OF THEM. YOU MAY THANK GOD THAT YOU'RE NOT THAT. THEY HAVE MADE MY WITTENBERG—AY, AND ALL GERMANY—TO STINK IN MY NOSTRILS."
Grandfather's new hat.Grandfather's new hat.
Monday, April 10th.—Some sadness mingled with the cheers that greeted the moving of the writ for the Wimbledon Division. The House is pleased that Mr.Henry Chaplin'slong services to the State should have received the customary reward of a peerage, but it will miss his genial and majestic presence. Though an unfortunate accident in 1906 (a year prolific in electoral casualties) debarred him from becoming the titular Father of the House, his venerable appearance, his courtly and old-world bearing, and his full-bodied eloquence gave him an uncontested claim to be regarded as its Grandfather. LordClaud Hamilton, the only other survivor of the Parliament of 1868, will now feel very lonely.
POP! Mr. Will Thorne.POP!Mr. Will Thorne.
The best things said at a public meeting are often uttered by an anonymous "Voice." Mr.Will Thorneis the "Voice" of the House of Commons. Endowed with a fine pair of lungs and a style of delivery that resembles the cork coming out of a ginger-beer bottle he frequently expresses in his explosive style the collective opinion of his fellow-Members. At Question time LordRobert Cecilreferred to the abominable treatment of British prisoners of war at the Wittenberg camp, and said that steps were being taken to circulate in neutral countries the report of Mr. JusticeYounger'sCommittee. There was a sudden "Pop," and out came Mr.Thornewith "Send it to the conscientious objectors."
On the Second Reading of the Budget Mr.Thomas O'Connor, as theSpeakerpunctiliously calls him, led off with a vigorous attack upon the match-tax. The discovery, made many years ago, that match-making as then conducted caused a painful disease of the jaw first aroused T.P.'s sympathetic interest. He now displayed an intimate acquaintance with the details of the industry and discoursed learnedly on the shortage of muriate of potash for the heads and of aspen for the splints. His argument briefly amounted to this—that the manufacturers of matches, like those of mustard, depended for their profits upon the amount wasted, and that to check public extravagance would destroy the trade.
The aspens on the Treasury Bench did not quiver visibly under this assault. They were more amenable to the criticisms on the railway-tax, which would fall very hardly upon commercial travellers and other business people. Mr.McKennapromised to give careful consideration to the criticisms before the Committee stage. Possibly it has occurred to him that as the Government have undertaken to bring the net receipts of the railway companies up to the 1914 level the Exchequer might have to pay out of one pocket nearly as much as it puts into the other.
Tuesday, April 11th.—One of the French Deputies visiting Westminster thinks us a queer people. He had heard last night thePrime Minister'sstout declaration of the Allies' resolve to bring Prussia's military domination to an end. Again this afternoon he had been told on the same high authority that the late Conference in Paris had reaffirmed the entire solidarity of the Allies and established the complete identity of their views. Then he had walked across the corridor to the House of Lords, expecting, no doubt, to hear the same sentiments expressed in even loftier language. Instead, he had to listen to LordCourtney, in the traditional yellow waistcoat, declaiming with all the vigour of hispremiere jaunesseagainst the notion that we should enter into any fiscal relations with our Allies that might imperil the sacred principles of Free Trade.
LordCourtneybelieves that there is in Germany a large and powerful peace-party, which must not be frightened by any threats of reprisals, and he commends to the Allies in 1916 the example ofBismarckin letting the Austrians off easily in 1866. Our visitor was a little relieved by the explanation that the orator was an interesting survival of a school of thought now passed away, and represented no one but himself. But he was again puzzled when LordBryce, who knows as much about the manners of the gentle Hun as anybody (witness his report on the atrocities in Belgium), joined in the appeal that we should be nice to Germany after the War.
He was, however, somewhat comforted when LordCrewemade it plain that the Government did not share LordCourtney'sillusions about the strength of the German peace-party, and, having regard to the manner in which Germany had in the past combined commercial expansion with political intrigue, could not hold out hopes that after the War we should do business with her in the same old easy-going way. But if our French friend is still not quite convinced that Britishstatesmen fully realize what the War means to him and his country I don't I think we can altogether blame him.
MARRIED MEN TRACKING DOWN THE SINGLE.MARRIED MEN TRACKING DOWN THE SINGLE."I am unable to say what steps the married men may take to track the single."—Mr.Tennant, in the House.
"I am unable to say what steps the married men may take to track the single."—Mr.Tennant, in the House.
In the Commons Mr.Pemberton Billingdeveloped his usual Tuesday "hate." But on this occasion there was no reply from the Government heavy batteries; little Mr.Reaexplaining that as the Hon. Member had failed to warn them of his intention to bombard they had no ammunition ready.
Wednesday, April 12th.—Although, like another noble Earl, LordSelborneis "not an agricultural labourer," he does his best to play the part, and save our food-producers from the maw of the hungry recruiting officer. A representative of the Board of Agriculture now holds a watching brief at every local Tribunal, to see that the Military representative does not have things too much his own way. No wonder that the taxes mount up faster than the recruiting returns.
Time was when Mr.Swift MacNeillsuccessfully dissembled his affection for the House of Lords. To-day his principal object in life is to purge the roll of that illustrious House of the peerages now held by the enemy Dukes ofCumberlandandAlbany. ThePrime Ministerwas strangely unsympathetic. Legislation would be necessary, and would occupy too much time. "Three minutes," suggested SirArthur Markham; but Mr.Asquithwas still obdurate, and seemed to think that as the Dukes in question had lost their Garters they were sufficiently down-at-heel already.
When packing his Budget a wiseChancellor of the Exchequeralways includes some little tit-bit that he can throw to the wolves if they become too insistent. In the present case the tax on railway tickets was marked for abandonment at the outset, and to-day it met its expected fate.
The Amusements tax was strenuously opposed by Mr.Barnes, on the ground that most of the money would come from the poor; but Mr.McKennafrankly replied that that was just what he intended. He agreed, however, to consider the claim of the Zoo to exemption. The match-makers were partially appeased by a promise that mechanical lighters should not be overlooked. TheChancelloris now in some doubt as to whether he orÆschylushas produced the more notable version of "Prometheus Bound."
Thursday, April 13th.—A provincial paper lately referred to Mr.McKennaas the "Cancellor"—a humorous compositor's way, no doubt, of indicating the modifications in the Budget. Hardly one of the proposed new taxes has survived intact. Even the tax on mineral waters has had to undergo considerable alteration. It was devised to get some contribution towards the nation's needs from those who wear the blue ribbon of a beerless life, and to that end the tax was to be collected by means of a stamp on each individual bottle. But the manufacturers successfully protested that the boys and girls who affix the labels already adorning these gaseous wares could not be trusted to put on stamps as well. Mr.Montaguannounced this afternoon that the manufacturers would be taxed direct on their certified output. But he did so with obvious reluctance, and as if what was once a sparkling proposition had become indubitably flat and possibly unprofitable.
Our Stylists.
"Now and again a mirthless laugh rose silently to the red banks of her lips."
Grand Magazine.
Signature to a legal notice:—
"Montgomeryshire Horse Repository, E.C., Solicitors for the said Administratrix."
Manchester Guardian.
If "the law is a hass" you are tempted to say, These equine attorneys will answer, "Neigh, neigh."
Fashions for Female Humourists.
"Blouses of the useful variety have jokes in various designs, the sleeves cut in one with the joke are generally a modification."
Provincial Paper.
Our more subtle contributors prefer the latter kind, enabling them to laugh up their sleeve.
Constable (failing to notice insignia of 'Special')...Constable (failing to notice insignia of 'Special').'Nah, then, you! Get a move on yer unless yer wants to be run in for loitering!'
Constable (failing to notice insignia of 'Special').'Nah, then, you! Get a move on yer unless yer wants to be run in for loitering!'
(HYPHENATED NEUTRAL).
Part I.
Somewhere in Germany,April 1st, 1916.
I had just partaken of the frugal breakfast to which I had been invited General Headquarters and was in the act of helping my distinguished host, Feldmarschall von und zu Grosskopf-Esel, to remove some fragments of sauerkraut from his ears, when a superbly-mounted orderly dashed up and handed me a missive bearing the significant superscription, "General Staff." I must confess that to me the messenger's manner seemed sufficiently deferential. Not to my friend the Major-General, who, with a sudden and well-placed kick in the stomach, sent the unfortunate despatch-bearer hurtling down the steps. It was not for me to inquire what the trouble was, and I mention the incident as one more illustration of the iron discipline that has driven the gallant troops of the Fatherland to victory on all fronts.
Imagine my gratification on finding that the letter was an invitation to inspect on the following morning the latest Zeppelin sheds at —— and to be a passenger on board one of the new airships that was scheduled to pay a surprise visit to the fortress of London that same evening, weather permitting.
Punctually at seven on the following morning I found von und zu Grosskopf-Esel waiting for me in the huge twenty-cylinder roadster which the General Staff customarily places at the disposal of American newspaper correspondents. Within the hour we were at ——, where I was turned over to the good offices of Herr Ober-Leutnant von Dachswurst, of the Imperial Flying Corps, who immediately conducted me to the shed from which (when the weather is propitious) the aerial monsters depart upon their errands of doom.
I had expected to see two, or at most three, Zeppelins in the great shed. Imagine my astonishment on beholding no fewer than a hundred huge engines of destruction tugging impatiently at their moorings. I was speechless. But the Ober-Leutnant read my thoughts. "What would you say," he asked, smiling drily, "if I were to tell you that Germany to-day possesses no fewer than one hundred such fleets of airships as you see before you?" So overcome was I that I scarcely had the strength to ask him why, up to that time, attacks had been usually carried out with two or three ships only. He smiled still more at enigmatically. "You must not ask me that," he said, "or at least you must first ask the Grand Admiral why his five hundred submersible battle cruisers are still at anchor in Kiel Harbour, or the General Staff why five million of Germany's finest veteran troops are still doing the goose-step in the Potsdam Thiergarten, or HerrHelfferichwhy the rate of exchange has not been corrected by releasing some small portion of the ten thousand billion marks that lie in the Imperial treasury at Spandau! Be patient," he added. "Our perfidious enemies will bite the dust whenever it suits our glorious leaders to say the word."
I muttered something about the enormous German casualty lists. The Ober-Leutnant smiled more enigmatically than ever. "A ruse to deceive our enemies," he said. "Would it surprise you to know that up to date the total German losses on all fronts amount to seventeen killed and ninety-one wounded and missing, while our material losses have so far been confined to three field guns left over from the Franco-German War and five dozen cases of collapsible sausage rolls?"
It was incredible, yet I could not but accept the statement as true, and have in fact had ample opportunity since of verifying the assertions of the gallant officer.
"But come," he said; "it is time we were on board."
The Zeppelins that were actually selected to conduct the proposed operations were housed in another shed, and thither we repaired. We were greeted at the gangway by the famous Captain Sigismund von Münchhausen, a gruff but hearty old mariner, who immediately escorted me into his cabin and insisted on my enjoying a cigar and a glass of schnapps with him. Once again I was struck with that almost Oriental charm of manner which seems to lift the German Higher Command above the plane occupied by the rest of the Occidental world.
It was no doubt my impatience that caused me to interrupt the gallant Captain's delightful flow of racy anecdote to ask when we should start. My host smiled enigmatically. "By now," he said, "we should be somewhere over the Dogger Bank."
It was true. So perfectly had all things been appointed that while I had been consuming a single glass of schnapps the huge airship had completed half the journey.
We now emerged from the cabin. As we approached the rail a sailor stepped up to the Captain, saluted and asked permission to speak. As far as I could gather, the wretched man complained of seasickness and asked to be put ashore. There was no mistaking the Captain's answer. "Ja wohl!" he roared, and with a mighty kick sent the luckless seaman hurtling over the rail and into the abyss below. A momentary sense of pity seized me, but it quickly occurred to me that only by such drastic means could be kept alive the splendid spirit of chivalry that has made the German airman victorious throughout the firmament.
It was now quite dark, but far beneath us could be seen with the aid of a telescope little points of light. Perfidious England, the author of all Germany's troubles, lay helpless beneath us.
(To be continued.)
'You advertised as chauffeurette-maid.''You advertised as chauffeurette-maid.'"Yes, Madam.""What were your duties at your last place?""I drove and cleaned the cars single-handed.""And as maid?""I took down my lady at night and assembled her in the morning, Madam."
'You advertised as chauffeurette-maid.'
"Yes, Madam."
"What were your duties at your last place?"
"I drove and cleaned the cars single-handed."
"And as maid?"
"I took down my lady at night and assembled her in the morning, Madam."
Strangethat the mostfaroucheof all the ladiesRightly renowned as drivers of the quill,Who hated all publicity like Hades,And showed in self-advancement little skill,Who did not write for Smiths and Browns and Bradys,But at the prompting of her own sweet will—Her most obsequious partisans should findIn penmen of the parasitic kind.In vain did Mrs.Gaskell, wise and gracious,Paint us your portrait, delicate yet true;Sensation-mongers, strident and voracious,Must needs explore your inner life anew,Clutching with fingers ruthlessly tenaciousAt the remotest semblance of a clue;Raking the dustbins for unprinted matter,And prodigal of cheap and tasteless chatter.And now in days of endless storms and stressesComes your Centenary, with odes and lays,And lantern slides and lectures and addresses,And all the modern ritual of praise;With columns inThe SphereofC. K. S.'sComments upon your life and work and ways,Judicial summings-up of old disputesAnd photographs ofPatrick Brontë'sboots.And men and maids will doubtless march with bannersTo prove their worship of your "massive brain";And intellectual Chicago "canners"Will send their relics from across the main;And critics will discuss your various manners,AndHarold Begbiewill pronounce you "sane";In short, you'll be the bookman's prey and quarryAt many a high-class literary "swarry."Well, well, braveCharlotte, though our admirationPrompts some of us your memory to revereIn ways less vocal in their adulation,You will not hold our homage less sincereIf we refrain from pouring a libationIn orthodox Centenary small-beer,But choose to greet in silent awe and wonderThe stormy spirit of the child of Thunder.
Strangethat the mostfaroucheof all the ladiesRightly renowned as drivers of the quill,Who hated all publicity like Hades,And showed in self-advancement little skill,Who did not write for Smiths and Browns and Bradys,But at the prompting of her own sweet will—Her most obsequious partisans should findIn penmen of the parasitic kind.
Strangethat the mostfaroucheof all the ladies
Rightly renowned as drivers of the quill,
Who hated all publicity like Hades,
And showed in self-advancement little skill,
Who did not write for Smiths and Browns and Bradys,
But at the prompting of her own sweet will—
Her most obsequious partisans should find
In penmen of the parasitic kind.
In vain did Mrs.Gaskell, wise and gracious,Paint us your portrait, delicate yet true;Sensation-mongers, strident and voracious,Must needs explore your inner life anew,Clutching with fingers ruthlessly tenaciousAt the remotest semblance of a clue;Raking the dustbins for unprinted matter,And prodigal of cheap and tasteless chatter.
In vain did Mrs.Gaskell, wise and gracious,
Paint us your portrait, delicate yet true;
Sensation-mongers, strident and voracious,
Must needs explore your inner life anew,
Clutching with fingers ruthlessly tenacious
At the remotest semblance of a clue;
Raking the dustbins for unprinted matter,
And prodigal of cheap and tasteless chatter.
And now in days of endless storms and stressesComes your Centenary, with odes and lays,And lantern slides and lectures and addresses,And all the modern ritual of praise;With columns inThe SphereofC. K. S.'sComments upon your life and work and ways,Judicial summings-up of old disputesAnd photographs ofPatrick Brontë'sboots.
And now in days of endless storms and stresses
Comes your Centenary, with odes and lays,
And lantern slides and lectures and addresses,
And all the modern ritual of praise;
With columns inThe SphereofC. K. S.'s
Comments upon your life and work and ways,
Judicial summings-up of old disputes
And photographs ofPatrick Brontë'sboots.
And men and maids will doubtless march with bannersTo prove their worship of your "massive brain";And intellectual Chicago "canners"Will send their relics from across the main;And critics will discuss your various manners,AndHarold Begbiewill pronounce you "sane";In short, you'll be the bookman's prey and quarryAt many a high-class literary "swarry."
And men and maids will doubtless march with banners
To prove their worship of your "massive brain";
And intellectual Chicago "canners"
Will send their relics from across the main;
And critics will discuss your various manners,
AndHarold Begbiewill pronounce you "sane";
In short, you'll be the bookman's prey and quarry
At many a high-class literary "swarry."
Well, well, braveCharlotte, though our admirationPrompts some of us your memory to revereIn ways less vocal in their adulation,You will not hold our homage less sincereIf we refrain from pouring a libationIn orthodox Centenary small-beer,But choose to greet in silent awe and wonderThe stormy spirit of the child of Thunder.
Well, well, braveCharlotte, though our admiration
Prompts some of us your memory to revere
In ways less vocal in their adulation,
You will not hold our homage less sincere
If we refrain from pouring a libation
In orthodox Centenary small-beer,
But choose to greet in silent awe and wonder
The stormy spirit of the child of Thunder.
Commercial Candour.
"Messrs. —— & Co., Ltd., Court Dress-fakers, &c."
Provincial Paper.
"Our Youngest General.
"He was educated at Glasgow University and Gottingen University, and entered the army in 1716."—Bangalore Daily Post.
Our Indian contemporary is misinformed. Several of our Generals are younger than that.
The following interesting letter has been forwarded to us by the relatives of one of our wounded heroes. It gives a vivid idea of his impressions during a severe engagement, particulars of which have not so far appeared in the Press.
"Red Cross Hospital,Somewhere in England.
"... And now I must tell you of a very hot time that our lot here had recently. The attack was due to open at 5.30 in the afternoon. We had been warned to expect it, and the appointed hour found us ready in our positions. We were five deep, strongly posted on deck chairs; moreover, the warning had given us opportunity to construct a defensive rampart of evergreens and pot-plants before the front line.
"The engagement opened fairly punctually with a furious pianoforte bombardment, accompanied by asphyxiating footlights. Owing to the closeness of the range and the weight of metal employed, our first rank gave way a little, but subsequently rallied smartly. The attack now became general, the enemy advancing first in detached units, subsequently in column or quartette formation. A stubborn resistance was put up, but we were nearly forced to recoil before a desperate charge byThe Men of Harlech.
"Hardly had we contrived to withstand these, when, with blood-curdling cries, the Funny Men dashed forward and fell upon us. The engagement was at this point so fierce that it was impossible to obtain more than a confused impression of it. I saw several of my brave comrades doubled up. Puns and lachrymatory wheezes darkened the air. At last, after a specially violent offensive, in which he was supported by the full strength of his piano, the enemy retired, followed by salvoes from our ranks, and left us, at least temporarily, masters of the situation.
"A lull ensued, during which, however, in spite of the curtain behind which the enemy endeavoured to mask his preparations, we were convinced, from certain unmistakable signs, that a fresh and possibly more violent attack was shortly to develop. Nor was this view wrong; for, when the curtain lifted, we at once saw that our worst fears were justified. Confronting us were the 1st Amateur Thespians, the most dreaded battalion in the enemy's Volunteer forces, and one reputed to have decimated more British classics than any two professional regiments.
"The methods of this body have changed very little during the last half-century. They still employ for choice the oldBox-and-Coxattack, which has proved so effective in the past, followed frequently byA Case for Evictionor elseGentlemen Boarders. Bold to the point of rashness, no difficulties are found to daunt them; and the stoutest hearts might well quail at being exposed to the fury of their onslaught. Indeed how any of us survived the half-hour that followed I hardly know. It was a nightmare of smashed china, dropped cups, shouts of 'Bouncer, Bouncer!' and general confusion.
"But time was on our side; and when, towards seven o'clock, the curtain fell again, we knew that, holding as we did almost our original positions, we were victorious. Our exact casualties I have not yet heard, but they are certain to have been heavy. The ground lately held by the enemy presented a spectacle of appalling confusion; and everything pointed to the struggle having been most determined. Restoratives were administered to our men, and we turned in, exhausted but happy."
It has been noticed by close observers that among curious developments brought about by the War the personal advertisements have been growing increasingly intimate. Mars and Venus again are associated. So far, only the Classes have been conspicuous. Why not the Masses too? Something like this:—
Will Ladywearing handsome garnet necklace and ostrich feathers in large hat in front row of gallery of Britannia Theatre, who threw orange at Gordon Highlander in pit, injuring his left eye, meet him Sunday evening, Marble Arch, 7 sharp?—Box F.3.
Will Girlseated second table on left at Lockhart's, 17th April, 6.30, eating cold meat-pie, communicate with Bedfordshire Corporal with arm in sling, two tables away?—Box 183.
Lonely Married Maninvites correspondence while waiting for single men to do their duty.—Box 84.
Saw youmarching past Charing Cross Station, three a-breast, whistling "Keep the Home Fires Burning," Saturday night at 10.15, and called out to you from top of omnibus. Please write.—Box 10.
"Lost, goldCHAINandPENDANT, containing sailor and baby; 5/- reward."
Liverpool Echo.
Small enough, even for the baby.
I.—The Editorial Page.
Here upon our middle page,Where the correspondents rage,Grim and dour and dry,Here with counsel bold and sageWar on lollipops we wage,Smiting hip and thigh."Pare potatoes very thin;All the virtue's in the skin;Save the peel for soups;Drop cigars; abandon gin;Leave the bristles on your chin;Tie your hair in loops."Golf and ties and collars shun;Lunch upon a penny bun;Butter not your bread;Save your pennies—every oneHelps to crush the brutal Hun."Thus and thus we've said.
Here upon our middle page,Where the correspondents rage,Grim and dour and dry,Here with counsel bold and sageWar on lollipops we wage,Smiting hip and thigh.
Here upon our middle page,
Where the correspondents rage,
Grim and dour and dry,
Here with counsel bold and sage
War on lollipops we wage,
Smiting hip and thigh.
"Pare potatoes very thin;All the virtue's in the skin;Save the peel for soups;Drop cigars; abandon gin;Leave the bristles on your chin;Tie your hair in loops.
"Pare potatoes very thin;
All the virtue's in the skin;
Save the peel for soups;
Drop cigars; abandon gin;
Leave the bristles on your chin;
Tie your hair in loops.
"Golf and ties and collars shun;Lunch upon a penny bun;Butter not your bread;Save your pennies—every oneHelps to crush the brutal Hun."Thus and thus we've said.
"Golf and ties and collars shun;
Lunch upon a penny bun;
Butter not your bread;
Save your pennies—every one
Helps to crush the brutal Hun."
Thus and thus we've said.
II.—The Advertisement Pages.
Now the advertiser comes;Hush the sound of warning drums;Hear his siren song:"Leave your economic sums;Leave the task of saving crumbs;Join the shopping throng."Come to Blank's—the thing to do!Here are chiffons, ninons too,Quilts for Fido's cot;Silken robe and satin shoe,Figured fabrics, gold and blue,Bangles, pearls—what not?"Bon-bons, perfumes, trifles gay—Still you'll find a fresh displayWhere the last one ends;New sensations every day!Motor round without delay!Come, and bring your friends!"
Now the advertiser comes;Hush the sound of warning drums;Hear his siren song:"Leave your economic sums;Leave the task of saving crumbs;Join the shopping throng.
Now the advertiser comes;
Hush the sound of warning drums;
Hear his siren song:
"Leave your economic sums;
Leave the task of saving crumbs;
Join the shopping throng.
"Come to Blank's—the thing to do!Here are chiffons, ninons too,Quilts for Fido's cot;Silken robe and satin shoe,Figured fabrics, gold and blue,Bangles, pearls—what not?
"Come to Blank's—the thing to do!
Here are chiffons, ninons too,
Quilts for Fido's cot;
Silken robe and satin shoe,
Figured fabrics, gold and blue,
Bangles, pearls—what not?
"Bon-bons, perfumes, trifles gay—Still you'll find a fresh displayWhere the last one ends;New sensations every day!Motor round without delay!Come, and bring your friends!"
"Bon-bons, perfumes, trifles gay—
Still you'll find a fresh display
Where the last one ends;
New sensations every day!
Motor round without delay!
Come, and bring your friends!"
In Its Proper Element.
"No appointments have been made in the place of Lord Derby and Lord Montagu [who have resigned their seats on the Joint Air Committee], and the Committee is, for the present,en l'air."—The Times.
"Amongst the sights which never fail to draw the attention of curious Londoners is that of girls perched high up on enormous vans manipulating the reins and guiding fresh nurses through the maze of city traffic."
"Star" (Ch. Ch. N. Z.)
There must be some mistake here. The nurses we see in London are always perfectly sober.
Mr.Blatchfordon the match-tax:—
"In this insidious manipulation of the thin end of the Tory wedge do we not perceive the cloven hoof of the serpent casting its shadow before?"—Weekly Dispatch.
No; all we see is Mr.Blatchfordlaboriously trying to emulate SirBoyle Roche.
OUR SPOILT WARRIORS.OUR SPOILT WARRIORS.Tommy."I went to a place a bit further down the road for supper last night. I don't go there again."Lady Muriel Beltravers-Montmorency."Oh, what's the matter with it?"Tommy."What's the matter with it? Why, they have paid waitresses there."
Tommy."I went to a place a bit further down the road for supper last night. I don't go there again."
Lady Muriel Beltravers-Montmorency."Oh, what's the matter with it?"
Tommy."What's the matter with it? Why, they have paid waitresses there."
Dear Sir (or Madam),—Looking over our records a few days ago, we noticed that you had not been so good a customer of ours for Seeds during the past twelve months as you used to be; and the more we looked at that record the more we wondered what we had done that caused you to practically stop dealing with us.
Finally we decided to drop you a line and ask you whether you will kindly tell us, personally, frankly, whether there is anything we have not done that we should have done.
Unfortunately accidents will happen at times, and if one has happened in this case we hope you will tell us about it so that we can try to put it right the day we get your letter.It does not make any difference what the trouble is, we will do our best to make it good.
Your faithful and obedient Servants,Goodenough & Sons.
To Messrs. Goodenough & Sons.
Dear Sirs,—I regret to say thereisa reason for discontinuing my seed order, and I am pleased to hear you will do your best to make the trouble good; but I am half afraid you will not be able to "put it right the day you get my letter."
The fact is there is a European War going on just now, and it has sadly upset our gardening plans. Instead of having eight men (counting a husband) about the place, I am now reduced to one gardener, and he will shortly be called up in a married group, unless the flat foot he is assiduously cultivating softens the heart of the Exemption Tribunal.
I am sorry I have no time to tell you more about this War, but I must now go and dig the vegetables.
Yours faithfully,Helena Cressingham.
"Stabbing Affray due to a Girl's Charm.
In the village of Sharwida, Zagazig district, lives a girl who is a paragraph of beauty."
Egyptian Mail.
This barely does her justice. She seems to have been quite the penny novelette.
"In the Argonne we carried out a coup domain this morning."—Evening Paper.
It is a good General who never puts off till to-morrow what he can do this morning.
VI.—Chalk Farm.
Certain farmers farm in fruit, and some farm in grain,Others farm in dairy-stuff, and many farm in vain,But I know a place for a Sunday morning's walkWhere the Farmer and his Family only farm in Chalk.The Farmer and his Family before you walk backWill bid you in to sit awhile and share their midday snack;O they that live in Chalk Farm they live at their ease,For the Farmer and his Family can't tell Chalk from Cheese.
Certain farmers farm in fruit, and some farm in grain,Others farm in dairy-stuff, and many farm in vain,But I know a place for a Sunday morning's walkWhere the Farmer and his Family only farm in Chalk.The Farmer and his Family before you walk backWill bid you in to sit awhile and share their midday snack;O they that live in Chalk Farm they live at their ease,For the Farmer and his Family can't tell Chalk from Cheese.
Certain farmers farm in fruit, and some farm in grain,
Others farm in dairy-stuff, and many farm in vain,
But I know a place for a Sunday morning's walk
Where the Farmer and his Family only farm in Chalk.
The Farmer and his Family before you walk back
Will bid you in to sit awhile and share their midday snack;
O they that live in Chalk Farm they live at their ease,
For the Farmer and his Family can't tell Chalk from Cheese.
VII.—The Spaniards.
Three Spaniards dwell on Hampstead Heath:One has a scowl and a knife in a sheath;One twangs a guitar in the bright moonlight;One chases a bull round a bush all night!
Three Spaniards dwell on Hampstead Heath:One has a scowl and a knife in a sheath;One twangs a guitar in the bright moonlight;One chases a bull round a bush all night!
Three Spaniards dwell on Hampstead Heath:
One has a scowl and a knife in a sheath;
One twangs a guitar in the bright moonlight;
One chases a bull round a bush all night!
"In talking of flying, Boillot only returned to a pastime that he had been one of the first to practise."—Pall Mall Gazette.
Just like our Mr.Billing.
Miss Pandora(Heinemann) is proclaimed by its publishers to be a first novel. Probably, however, it will not also be a last, as the author,M. E. Norman, has a considerable gift for tale-telling. Perhaps I may be permitted to hope that he (or she) will use it next time to illuminate a rather more attractive set of characters. I don't think that the circle in whichPandoramoved contains a single person whom I should wish to meet twice. There wasPandoraherself, who was dark and Spanish-looking, with an origin wrapped in mild mystery. There was her friend, a futile lady-novelist; there were three quite disagreeable men, a spoilt child and an old lady suffering from senile dementia. Oh, and I nearly forgot the sniffy neighbour, who, having cutPandoradead for half the book, was revealed in the second half as her mother. Add to this thatPandorahad a past (and a present too, for that matter) with the husband of the lady novelist, and you will, I think, agree with me that they were a queer lot. Also I have seldom read a novel with such an unsatisfactory ending. It almost seemed as thoughM. E. Norman, having got the affair into a tangle, was too bored to unravel it. I am by no means sure, for example, that he (or she) had any clearer ideas aboutPandora'spaternity than I have. The depressing conclusion is that, while I readily admit that the writing of it shows originality and promise,Miss Pandorais hardly the novel I should have expected to be produced in a paper famine.
Before I began to unweaveThe Web of Fräulein(Hodder and Stoughton) a dreadful and, as it turned out, an unnecessary fear seized me that MissKatharine Tynanhad written a spy-novel of the present day. Imagine then my relief when I found that the story dates back some thirty or forty years, and that, althoughFräuleinwas really as pestilential a woman as ever became governess to a respectable British family, espionage was not part of her game. With uncanny skill MissTynanrelates the influence that this flat-footed German woman gained in theAllansonhousehold; but I must protest, in justice to our race, that we have not many families so lacking in enterprise as to allow themselves to be enmeshed in such a web as this. In short I can dislike this German product very cordially but without for a moment understanding the source of the devastating power she had over others. You must not, however, imagine that the web casts a gloom over the whole book, for whenFräuleinis not on the scene—and we do have some holidays from her—thoseAllansonswhom she had not marked down could be attractively natural and gay; and the youngerAllansongirl is as delightful a portrait as any in MissTynan'sgenerous gallery.
I think I never met a writer who splashed language about with a greater recklessness than MissMarion Hill. I see that one of the reviews of that previous best seller of hers,The Lure of Crooning Water, speaks of its literary charm. Well, there are, of course, many varieties of charm, but "literary" is hardly the epithet that I should myself apply to the undoubted attractions ofA Slack Wire(Long). This very bustling story of the marriage between a variety artist and a quiet, not to say somewhat prigsome, young engineer is told for the most part in the purest American, an engaging and vivid medium with which I am but imperfectly acquainted. Further, MissHill'scommand of words seems to be gloriously unhampered by tradition. "It was with a supercargo of relief even heavier than usual that he found it" is a sample that I select at random. No, I certainly do not think that "literary" would be the epithet. But I am far from saying that there is no charm in the tale, of a sort. Not specially original perhaps the situation of the Bohemian wife brought to an ultra-Philistine home; but MissHillmanages to keep it going briskly enough. And, as I have hinted, you never know what she will say next, or how. The whole thing would make such an admirable film-play that I can hardly believe this idea to have been absent from the intention of its author. The final sensation-scene, in whichVioletuses her old wire-walking agility to prevent a catastrophe (never ask me how!), would make a fortune on the screen. PoorViolet, I may tell you, had been born in England, and, on the death of her rightful guardians, was "farmed off to peasants, who boarded her because it would cancel their poor-tax." I feel somehow that if I could grasp this reference it would make much inVioletclear. But so far it eludes me.
If powers of absorption are still left to you for any battles save those of to-day, you will find a vivid account of Flodden inThe Crimson Field(Ward,Lock). I won't believe it is Mr.Halliwell Sutcliffe'sfault that the fighting scenes of his story left me cold; the blame lies rather with the Hunnish times in which we live. While describing the beauty of the Yorkshire dales and the lives of their inhabitants, Mr.Sutcliffeheld me in the hollow of his hand. But when he started to tell of the valiant deeds of the yeoman-hero,Sylvester Demain, who was knighted on the field of battle and won the maiden of high degree, I was released from that bondage. Indeed, I think Mr.Sutcliffewas no more anxious to leave the dales than I was, for, when the march to Flodden begins, his style becomes almost bewilderingly jumpy, so often does he look over his shoulder to see—and let us know—what is happening to those who were left behind. The fight, however, when it does come, is strenuous enough, and in the midst of itKing James—German papers please copy—stands out as a pattern of chivalry.
HISTORICAL PARALLELS.HISTORICAL PARALLELS.At the Siege of Carthage."Look out, boys! Here comes another Saucy Scipio!"
A Dickens Revival.
"Wanted—Fat Boy for yard: 10s. weekly."
Dublin "Daily Independent."
Eighteen tailors from Leeds have been arrested at Dublin as deserters from the Army. As nine tailors make a man this is a net gain of two recruits.
Transcriber's Note:A linked Table of Contents has been provided for the convenience of the reader.