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PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 150.
January 12, 1916
CHARIVARIA.
There is much satisfaction in the German Army at the announcement that
iron coins to the value of ten million marks are to be substituted for
nickel and copper. It is now hoped that those Crosses may yet prove to
be worth something.
***
A resident of Honor Oak writes to the papers to say that such was the
patriotic anxiety of people in his neighbourhood to pay their taxes at
the earliest possible moment that he found a long queue before the
collector's door on January 3rd and had to wait an hour before his turn
came. On reading his letter several West-end theatres patriotically
offered the collector the loan of their "House Full" boards.
***
Prince WILLIAM OF WIED, the ex-ruler of Albania, is at present in
Serbia, feverishly awaiting restoration to his former dignity. The
situation is not very favourable, however, and his German advisers have
warned him to curb his Mpretuosity.
***
An American barque with a cargo of beans for Germany has been seized and
unloaded by the Swedish authorities. A cruel fate seems to overtake
every effort of the United States to give Germany these necessary
commodities.
***
Among the suspicious articles discovered at the Bulgarian Consulate in
Salonika was a large stock of red brassards. But the inference that they
belonged to members of the British V.T.C., who were determined to fight
for the enemy rather than not fight at all, is certainly premature.
***
Several inmates of the Swansea workhouse, having been told that
margarine was to be served out instead of butter, returned their
portions, only to discover that it was butter after all. As similar
incidents have occurred in many other establishments it is suggested
that margarine should in future be dyed scarlet or blue in order to
prevent a repetition of these embarrassing contretemps.
***
Sir JOHN SIMON, in the debate on the Compulsion Bill, said that the
alleged 650,000 slackers were arrived at "by subtracting two figures
from one another." Everyone must agree with him that if that was the
method employed the result would be "negligible."
***
In a tram-car in a Northern city, as the girl-conductor went round for
fares, a "nut" tried to take a rise out of her by asking for a ticket to
"Gallipoli." She charged him for the full length of the tram journey,
and as soon as the tram arrived at a recruiting office she rang the bell
and said, "You change here, Sir, for Gallipoli."
***
The KAISER thinks it very mean of the British Government to turn his
Corfu palace into a hospital. His submarine commanders are now wondering
how to shell the inmates without damaging their master's property.
***
The Militant Suffragette who some years ago damaged the Velasquez Venus
with an axe has just published a novel, of which the hero is a plumber
who thought he was a poet. It ought to be called "The Burst Pipe," but
isn't.
***
Women are now employed on some of the railways in the North. A traveller
recently had two Tommies for fellow-passengers. They related that they
had every week to take a long slow duty journey which was "the limit";
but lately it had taken on a different aspect, for "_now_," said Tommy,
"when you get too bored you just hop out and kiss the porter."
***
Extract from a letter written to a loved one from the Front:--
"I received your dear little note in a sandbag. You say that you
hope the sandbag stops a bullet. Well, to tell the truth, I hope
it don't, as I have been patching my trousers with it."
***
PRINCE VON BUELOW, who has been for some time in Switzerland, has
obtained an increase in the number of his secretaries, of whom he now
has a round dozen. Several of the poor fellows are suffering from
writer's cramp through having to pen so many letters explaining that the
Prince is at Lucerne purely for the sake of his health.
* * * * *
[Illustration:
_Fiery Major_ (_discussing delinquent Subaltern_). "But there--what can
you expect? He's only one of those temporary blighters!"
_Colonel_ (_sweetly_). "But isn't that better than being a permanent
blighter?"]
* * * * *
THE BATTLE OF THE PASS.
["This Bill was 'selling the pass.'"--_Sir William Byles, in the House,
on The Military Service Bill_.]
"What though against our sacred front
They muster, miles on miles,
I am resolved to stick the brunt,"
Said bold HORATIUS BYLES;
"For Liberty I'll take my stand,
Just like a stout Berserk,
And still defend with bloody brand
Our glorious Right to Shirk.
"We've SIMON, worth four columns' length;
We've REDMOND, doughty dog;
THOMAS and those twin towers of strength,
PRINGLE and whole-souled HOGGE;
And OUTHWAITE--not our dearest foe,
Bulgar or Bosch or Turk,
Could wish to plant a ruder blow
For Britain's Right to Shirk.
"And, lastly, should the Tyrant storm
The pass for which we fight,
It must be o'er the riddled form
Of Me, the Champion Knight;
Meanwhile, on caitiffs who would keep
The pledge we bade them burke,
My lusty battle-cry shall leap:--
'God and our Right to Shirk!'"
The scrap was over. There he lay
Prone on the reeking grass;
"SIMON," his faint lips strove to say,
"Somebody's sold the pass!"
"True," said the other; "I descry
The NORTHCLIFFE'S hand at work."
"Farewell!" said BYLES; "'tis sweet to die
For Britain's Right to Shirk!"
O.S.
* * * * *
WORLD WARFARE OF THE BRITISH FLEET.
What it has done in 1915.
(_With acknowledgments to Mr. ARCHIBALD HURD in "The Daily Telegraph._")
Superiority, and again Superiority! In this one word lies the secret of
our success at sea. Yet it would be hard to say how many careless
civilians there are, taking all things for granted, who fail to
recognise that fact even now. Not numbers nor organisation, nor men nor
guns nor ships--though these have counted for something--have been
responsible for our victory. It has been due above all to
superiority--sheer superiority.
Think what would have happened if there had been any strategic fumbling
at the opening of the War! It is not pleasant to reflect upon what might
have occurred (had not superiority stepped in) at the very outset if,
for instance, we had sent several _Dreadnoughts_ to catch the _Emden_.
It was strongly suspected, mind you, that there were German armed
vessels on the trade routes. As one merchantman after another was sunk
there could no longer be any doubt about it. What if, in panic, we had
suddenly dispersed our naval force to every part of the globe? What
then? But we didn't. What again if it had been determined, in accordance
with some fanciful scheme, to concentrate our main striking force in the
Mersey? Germany well might have captured the initiative. But authority
was not distracted from its primary purpose. Was its policy a success?
Come, now, was it?
The old year has gone. On January 4th the British Fleet had been at war
seventeen months--roughly seventy-four weeks (anyone can count them up;
there is nothing abstruse about my statistics). In a word, it might
almost be said, with some approach to accuracy, that it has been in the
throes of the struggle for a year and a half. Very well.
The German Flag has been banished from the ocean. Not since the War
began has a German battleship steamed down the Channel--nor a battle
cruiser, nor yet an armoured cruiser, nor even a light cruiser, nor a
monitor, nor a destroyer. None of them--not one. Why is that? Because
(_vide supra_) the German Fleet has been banished from the ocean. It
still exists, but it is safely locked up behind explosive agents (mines)
and protected by submersive factors (submarines). The German Fleet is in
a zareba.
Let us recall the striking words of one of Germany's leading naval
strategists, written, mark you, before the War: "England's strength is
mainly in her Fleet." I wonder now if that is generally known.
He goes on to define the duties of a fleet in the following words:--
(1) To avert invasion.
(2) To keep the sea open for the arrival of imports;
(3) And the departure of exports;
(4) And for the exit of re-exports;
(5) Also the entrance of re-imports.
(6) To protect trade.
Has the British Fleet succeeded?
The German Flag is banished from the seas. In January 1916 the German
Fleet is still lurking in that zareba. The _Dreadnought_ embodied an
offensive _in excelsis_, even as the expansion of the _Dreadnought_
policy embodies an offensive _in extenso_ and imposes upon the enemy a
defensive _in extremis_.
It is perhaps hardly realised that the performance of the British Navy
in this War has no parallel in history. In the past, enemy frigates
always succeeded in getting out of ports, however close the blockade.
But none has broken through this time--not a single frigate. On the
other hand enemy submarines may be said to have been more formidable
than in the Napoleonic wars.
But the German Fleet is strong. I am not one of the sort of humourists
who hold it up to contempt in its inactivity. For that matter I am not
any sort of humourist. Perhaps you have found that out. But the German
High Seas Fleet is no fit subject for joke. That it has proved harmless
is due to one thing alone--superiority.
And so the War wags. All over the high seas our merchantmen continue to
inscribe their indelible furrows.
And where is the German Fleet? I think I have answered that.
Here then I conclude my synopsis of the work of the Fleet in 1915. And
if it be said that it might well have stood almost word for word as the
record of the work of the Fleet in 1914, I may reply that I sometimes
wistfully wonder if I shall have to make any alterations in the text
before it goes to press again this time next year.
Bis.
* * * * *
VERY EARLY VICTORIAN.
"Handsomely carved early Victorian sideboard, been in one family
for a century."--_Advt. in "Horncastle News."_
* * * * *
From Mr. BONAR LAW'S speech as reported by a morning paper:--
"We were quite ready to carry on the principle of keeping a
united nation by keeping in opposition and not facetiously
opposing the Government."
Unlike those eminent humourists, Messrs. HOGGE, PRINGLE, and KING.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE SECOND TIME OF ASKING.
Bosch (_with visions of the conquest of Egypt_). "I SUPPOSE HE KNOWS THE
WAY THERE." Camel (_overhearing_). "_AND_ BACK!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Harassed N.C.O._ "Call that 'presenting arms'! If I was
the King and you presented arms like that, I'd--I'd throw my hat at
you!" ]
* * * * *
THE PESSIPHONE.
It is weary work being a pessimist these days, for the process of
corrugating the brow and groaning at the War news must of necessity
entail much energy. For some time past it has been patent to sympathetic
observers that what the pessimist to-day really needs is a machine to do
the work for him.
To meet this want the Electrophobia Syndicate have invented the
Pessiphone--a mixture of gramophone and pessimist--believing that he who
to-day can make two whimpers grow where one grew before deserves well of
his country in war time. With the Pessiphone there is now absolutely no
excuse for cheerfulness. It is the marvel of the age, and has very
fittingly been described as worth a guinea a groan. With one pint of
petrol the Pessiphone will disseminate more depression throughout the
household in ten minutes than could be accomplished in a day by thirty
human pessimists.
As soon as people commence to be cheerful all you have to do is to press
the button and hold on to something. A child can start it but nobody can
stop it. Ten minutes is all that is sufficient to give a whole family
melancholia or creeping dyspepsia. It has been known to be fatal at 200
yards' range. Messrs. WILKIE BARD and _George Graves_ have already
offered a heavy reward for the body dead or alive of the inventor--a
fact which speaks highly for the machine and its maker.
When the instrument was first tried on a select party of confirmed
optimists two of them rushed out of the office and have not been heard
of since, while the others clawed savagely at the office mat.
No burglar will go near it. It will drive away rate-collectors and poor
relations. One client has already used it on his mother-in-law with
favourable results.
The Pessiphone is fitted with a little oil-bath, all black fittings,
self-starting lever, Stormy Arthur two-speed gear, thus rendering it
easy of change from "Mildly Miserable" to "Devastating," and the whole
is packed complete with accessories and delivered carriage free to your
back garden, where it may be let loose.
The following letters from grateful pessimists--all involuntary
contributions--speak for themselves:--
Gentlemen,--For years I have been troubled with ginger hair, but
since using the Pessiphone I have had the beastly stuff turn
grey.
Dear Sirs,--I used to read _The Moaning Herald_ aloud each
morning, but I now use the Pessiphone with more deadly effect.
Householder writes: Please turn the Pessiphone off at the main.
None of my family has been able to get near the house for five
days.
Golder's Green says: The other day the butcher's boy, cheerful
as usual, was coming up the garden path whistling, and though it
may hardly seem credible this so affected the Pessiphone that it
actually jumped off the table and bit the boy.
* * * * *
A CHANGE OF CURE.
"The Infectious Diseases Hospital at Colchester has been
appointed to the vicarage of Hurst Green, Etchingham, Sussex."
_Essex and Halstead Times._
* * * * *
FROM A CHEMIST'S REMINISCENCES:--
"In the early part of the last century the sale of leeches was
one of the most important. Doctors bled their patients for every
imaginable ailment. To-day all that we can say of leeches is
that we just keep them."--_Observer_.
As pets, we suppose.
* * * * *
RULES FOR HERO-NAILERS.
The following notice appears daily in the _Wilhelmshavener Tageblatt._
The statue to which it refers, known as "The Trusty Look-Out,"
represents a seaman in oilskins looking out over the North Sea. The face
is that of VON TIRPITZ.
The Trusty Look-out.
Nails may be driven into the statue on week-days between 11 and
1, and on Sundays between 10 and 5. The sale of tickets for
Nails and Shields takes place at the Treasury of the Town Hall
during office hours, and also at the time for driving in Nails
on the spot.
Further, tickets for iron Nails may be bought in the following
shops: (_here follows a list of three booksellers, one general
store and six tobacco shops_).
The prices are fixed at:--
0.50 m. for an iron Nail.
5.00 m. for a silver Nail.
10.00 m. for a small gold Nail.
20.00 m. for a larger gold Nail.
Anyone who buys 100, 200, 300 or 400 marks' worth of iron Nails
receives a silver Shield with a corresponding inscription;
similarly, a gold Shield for iron Nails to the value of 500 and
more marks. Whoever changes a 10 mark gold piece receives an
iron Nail free.
For the purpose of preparing inscriptions on Shields the date on
which it is proposed to drive in the Nails must be notified at
the Treasury three days in advance.
If clubs, societies, or other collections of people wish to
drive in their Nails in private parties they are requested to
get into touch with the Municipal Architect, Mr. Zopff, with a
view to fixing the day and hour, in order that no delay may be
caused by overcrowding.
_Wilhelmshaven_, 12_th December_, 1915.
For the Municipal Council.
(Signed) Bartelt.
Not in a spirit of carping criticism, but as earnest admirers of German
forethought and thoroughness (_Gruendlichkeit_), we feel it our duty to
point out that there are a few contingencies for which these otherwise
admirable regulations fail to provide, and we beg leave to suggest to
the Municipal Council of Wilhelmshaven the following additions:--
(1) It is unpatriotic and un-German to spend more time than necessary in
driving in nails, as standing-room, the number of hammers and the
patience of the officials are all limited.
(2) The limit of time allowed for driving in one nail is one minute, for
a silver nail two minutes, for a small gold nail two and a-half minutes
and for a large gold nail three minutes.
(3) If in any case the time-limit is exceeded the Municipal nail-driver
will displace the person whose lack of skill is responsible for the
delay and will drive home the offending nail himself.
(4) If any person offers resistance to this procedure he or she will be
nailed to the statue by the Municipal nail-driver as a warning to
others. A large _iron_ nail will be used for this purpose, the charge
for which will be added to the death-duties.
(5) It is unpatriotic and un-German to use bad language when driving in
nails. However, in view of the well-known tenderness of the human heart
and the high state of nervous tension in which many persons of an ardent
patriotic disposition may be expected to perform this supreme act of
symbolic devotion, those who drive in iron nails will be allowed to
swear once for each nail, or seven times for half-a-dozen nails, whilst
a higher proportion of swear words will be allowed for silver and gold
nails, on the progressive lines laid down in (2).
(6) Anyone exceeding the patriotic limit of bad language will be dealt
with by the Municipal nail-driver as in (4).
(7) Classes of instruction in nail-driving will be held in the Town-hall
daily between 10 and 11 A.M. (Sundays excepted).
(8) Persons who wish to be photographed in the act of nail-driving must
give notice to the Municipal photographer two days in advance. The cost
of the photograph will naturally be in inverse proportion to the value
of the nail which is driven in.
* * * * *
[Illustration: "Bejabers! If you're gettin' on, I'm gettin' off!"]
* * * * *
"Hon. John Fellowes Wallop, of Barton House, Morchard Bishop,
brother and heir-presumptive of the Earl of Portsmouth, entered
his 57th pear on Monday."
_Western Times._
We congratulate him on his digestion.
* * * * *
NIGHT OPERATIONS.
"Storm or no storm," said Charles, "as a medical man I can't stick this
fug any longer."
He disappeared behind the heavy anti-Zepp curtains and opened the
window. A piercing draught caught the back of Bill's neck and he sat up.
"Look here," he said crossly, "this is no night for a poor Special to go
out in. Can't I send a medical certificate instead?"
"You cannot," replied Charles. "I will not be a party to such evasions."
"It's pouring with rain and blowing a gale. No Zepp ever hatched would
come over to-night."
"That's not the point, Bill." Kit unexpectedly opened one eye. "How are
Charles and I to sleep soundly in our warm beds unless we know you're
outside, guarding us?"
"That's right," growled Bill. "Hub it in. Your turn to-morrow, anyway."
The other two sang the praises of bed in fervent antistrophe till at
last Bill rose with a groan and assumed his overcoat, badge and
truncheon. He stopped at the door.
"Charles," said he, "if after this night's work I die of bronchial
catarrh, unzepp'd, unhonoured and unsung----"
"Good night, dear old thing," interposed Charles sweetly. "Run away and
play, there's a good child; Uncle's tired."
He disappeared to bed.
An hour later he was awakened by a tremendous knocking at the
front-door. Resolutely turning on to his other side, he tried to ignore
it, but the fusillade continued and swelled. Only when it appeared
likely to do permanent and irreparable damage to the building did he
rush out on to the landing. There he met Kit, half awake, with his
eyelids tightly gummed together.
"That ass Bill," he said peevishly. "Forgotten his latchkey most likely.
Serve him right if we left him there!"
"My good man, one must sleep."
Charles ran downstairs, opened the door and indignantly confronted the
glistening figure on the steps.
"It is my duty to warn you, Sir," said William's voice in an official
but triumphant tone, "that one of your downstairs windows has been left
open. Most dangerous. Also," he added quickly, "that I am authorised to
use my truncheon in self-defence, and that anything you say may be used
as evidence against you."
* * * * *
UNRULY BRITANNIA.
Dear Mr. Punch,--I see that Canon MASTERMAN, in his Presidential Address
to the Members of the Teachers' Guild of Great Britain and Ireland,
delivered yesterday week, observed that the German teacher had been the
servant of the State; his function had been to foster love for the
Fatherland. But, he continued, "that love was degraded by jealousy,
distrust and arrogance. The spirit that breathed through our 'Rule,
Britannia!' was corrected in our national life by our sense of humour
and self-criticism." How true and how necessary! It is indeed surprising
to me that no one has said it before. Why should we dwell on the
greatness of our sea-power and proclaim our resolve not to be slaves? I
have always understood, in spite of the view of Sir HENRY NEWBOLT, that
DRAKE was nothing more than a buccaneer. The public utterance of such
sentiments is surely prejudicial to "moral uplift," and, in the
memorable words of _Mr. Pecksniff_, is "Pagan, I regret to say."
It seems to me that the time has now come when, in the interests of
reticence and humanity, a serious attempt should be made to revise our
so-called patriotic songs, and, though fully conscious of my own
literary shortcomings, I cannot refrain from suggesting, by the
following examples, the lines on which such revision might be profitably
carried out. For instance, the refrain of "Rule, Britannia!" would be
shorn of its thrasonical quality and rendered suitable for use in
elementary schools if it took the following form:--
"Curb, Britannia, Britannia curb thy pride;
True Britons never, never, never PUT ON SIDE."
Another song which clamours for drastic revision is "The British
Grenadiers." I cannot help thinking that it would be greatly improved if
it were remodelled thus:--
"Some talk of ALEXANDER, and some of HERCULES,
Of HECTOR and LYSANDER, and warriors such as these;
But infinitely greater than the stroke of any sword
Is the pow-wow-wow-wow-wow-wow-wow of WILSON and of FORD."
There are many other standard songs and poems which could be dealt with
in similar salutary fashion, but I am content to leave the task to
others, and will content myself with the following original lines,
which, whatever may be said of their form, have, at any rate, the root
of the matter in them:--
"The men who made our Empire great
Have long ago received their meed;
Then why the tale reiterate?
Self-criticism now we need.
Then, O my brethren, lest you stumble
Look carefully before you leap;
Be modest, moderate and 'umble--
Like the immortal Mr. Heep."
Once more and in conclusion:--
"Let us be humorous, but never swankful--
Swank mars the finer fibres of the soul--
For what we have achieved devoutly thankful,
But disinclined our prowess to extol;
And, when our foemen bang the drum and bump it,
In silence be our disapproval shown;
'Tis nobler far to blow another's trumpet
Than to perform fantasias on your own."
I am, dear Mr. Punch,
Yours earnestly,
CHADLEY BANDMAN.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Doctor_ (_to would-be recruit, whipper-in to the
Blankshires_). "Sorry I can't pass you, my man. You've got an enlarged
heart."
_Recruit._ "Squire always says as you couldn't have too big an 'eart to
ride over a country on war-time 'osses."]
* * * * *
OUR EXPERTS.
"There are still three gaps in the trunk line through Asia Minor
to Baghdad, but these will be filled in during the course of
next year, and unless we can reach the city before the Germans,
they will certainly reach it before us."
_Truth_.
* * * * *
"One of Mr. Copeland's ancestors, Sir John Copeland, who
captured David, King of Scotland, with 40,000 troops at the
battle of Neville's Cross, after lodging the latter in Carlisle
Castle, proceeded to France, to report the event to the King,
who knighted him at Calais and conferred on him the Barony of
Kendal."--_Carlisle Journal._
In these days he would have been fined for overcrowding.
* * * * *
JOURNALISTIC ENTERPRISE.
Once upon a time a rash man, wishing who knows for what?--possibly a
peerage, possibly to be relieved of superfluous cash and so no longer
have to pay super-tax, possibly for the mere joy of pulling
wires--decided to start a newspaper.
After much consultation the plans were complete in every particular save
one. The premises were taken, the staff appointed, the paper, ink and so
forth contracted for, the office girls and lift girls were engaged, the
usual gifted and briefless barrister was installed as editor, and the
necessary Cabinet Minister willing to reveal secrets was obtained.
Everything, in short, that a successful newspaper at the present time
could possibly require was ready, when it was suddenly remembered that
no provision had been made for a daily supply of pictures. A popular
paper without pictures being such a crazy anomaly, a pictorial editor
was instantly advertised for.
"Well," said the editor to the applicant for the post, "give me an idea
of your originality and resource in the choice of topical photographs."
"I think you can rely on me to be original," said the young man, "and
not only original but revolutionary. I have thought about it all a lot,
and I have made some discoveries. My notion is that the public wants to
be 'in' all that is happening. Nothing's beneath their notice; their
eyes want food to feast on all the time."
"Go on," said the editor; "you interest me strangely."
"The function of the camera, as I conceive it," the young man explained,
"is to serve as the handmaid of the fountain-pen. Together they are
terrific--a combination beyond resistance. That perhaps is the chief of
the inspirations which much pondering has brought me. One must always be
fortifying the other. People not only want to read of a thing, they come
to see it, and very rightly. Here is an example. We are gradually
getting shorter and shorter of messengers, so much so that many
shopkeepers no longer are able to send purchases home. That means that
people must carry them themselves. Now what more interesting, valuable
or timely picture could you have than a photograph of a customer
carrying, say, a loaf of bread--a picture of the unfortunate victim of
the KAISER in the very act of having to do something for himself? How
that brings it home to us!"
"By Jove, yes," said the editor, deeply impressed.
"I could arrange for someone to be taken just leaving the shop," the
applicant went on; "and I would put underneath something about the
straits to which the War has brought shoppers."
"Capital!" said the editor. "Go on."
"Then I have noticed," said the youth, "that people are interested in
photographs of musical-comedy and revue actresses."
"I believe you may be right," the editor remarked pensively.
"So I would arrange for a steady series of these ladies, which not only
would delight the public but might be profitable to the advertisement
revenue of the paper if properly managed; for I should state what plays
they were in, and where."
"A great idea," said the editor.
"But I should not," the young man continued, "merely give that
information beneath. I should add something topical, such as 'who has
just received an admiring letter from a stranger at the Front'; 'who
spends her spare time knitting for our brave lads'; 'whose latest song
is whistled in trench and camp'; 'who confesses to a great admiration
for Khaki,' and so on. In this way you get a War interest, and every one
is the better for looking at some pictures. Nothing is so elevating as
the constant spectacle of young women with insufficient noses."
"Marvellous!" exclaimed the editor. "But what of the War itself?"
"Ah, yes, I was coming to that," the young man went on. "I have a strong
conviction--I may be wrong, but I think not--that war-pictures are
popular, and I have noticed that one soldier astonishingly resembles
another. This is a priceless discovery, as I will show. I would
therefore get all the groups of soldiers that I could take in open
country wherever it was most convenient to my operator, and I would
label them according to recent events. For example, I would call one
group--and understand that they would all have non-committal
backgrounds--'A wayside chat near Salonica'; another, 'A Tommy narrating
the story of his escape from a Jack Johnson'; a third, 'A hurried lunch
somewhere in France'; a fourth, 'How the new group of Lord DERBY'S men
will look after a few weeks'; a fifth, 'Our brave lads leaving Flanders
on short leave'; and so on."
"But you are a genius!" exclaimed the editor, surprised into enthusiasm.
"As for the rest of the pictures," said the applicant, "I have perhaps
peculiar views, but I hold that they ought to be photographs of Members
of Parliament walking to or from the House of Commons, a profoundly
interesting phase of modern life too little touched upon; photographs of
the _fiancees_ of soldiers, of whom it does not matter if no one had
ever heard before, engagements being of the highest importance,
especially at a time when marriage is a state duty. So much for the
staple of the picture-page, which I trust you do not consider too
daring."
"Daring, perhaps," said the editor, "but not excessively so, and one
must be both nowadays. One must innovate."
"And then," pursued the youth, "for padding--though padding of course
only to the experts, not to the great hungry asinine public--anything
can be rendered serviceable provided that the words beneath are adroit
enough. Thus, a view of Westminster Abbey would be 'The architectural
jewel of England which the Zeppelins have in vain tried to bomb'; a view
of Victoria Station, 'The terminus at which every day and night,
thousands of homing Tommies are welcomed'; any picture of a dog or cat
or canary or parrot would bear a legend to the effect that all our brave
lads love pets and are never so happy as when accompanied by a favourite
animal; while any maritime scene would be certainly related to a recent
submarine outrage, the Almighty in His infinite wisdom and prevision
having made all expanses of ocean look alike."
"You are certainly," said the editor, "a very original and enterprising
young man and I have great pleasure in engaging you to enrich our
sheet."
But when the paper came out the picture page was found to differ in no
single respect from the other picture pages in the other dailies.
* * * * *
LITERARY REPRISALS.
Nearly three years ago Mr. E. C. BENTLEY wrote an excellent detective
story called _Trent's Last Case_. We now see amongst the latest literary
announcements, _Bentley's Conscience_, by PAUL TRENT.
This retaliation prepares us for a whole series of recriminatory works
of fiction. Among those shortly to be expected are the following:--
_The Delusions of Doyle_, by ANTHONY HOPE, and _Hope's Hallucinations_,
by CONAN DOYLE.
_Hewlett's Downfall_, by G. K. CHESTERTON, and _Chesterton's
Catastrophe_, by MAURICE HEWLETT.
_The Curse of Cain_, by MARIE CORELLI, and _Marie the Malevolent_, by
HALL CAINE.
_Dexter Street_, by COMPTON MACKENZIE, and _The Meanderings of
MacKenzie_, by G. S. STREET.
* * * * *
AN OLD-FASHIONED PLAYGOER VISITS A MODERN REVUE.
[Illustration: "Aha! Best seat in the house. Third row of stalls--next
to gangway. I'm going to enjoy myself."
Act I. Scene I.