SIR,--I have been deeply thrilled by the suggestion for curing the
Agricultural depression which Messrs. MACDOUGALL, of Mark Lane, have
made. I am not myself an Agriculturist; still, in--or rather near--the
suburban villa in which I reside, I have an old cow, and a donkey on
which my children ride. Directly I heard that the way to keep animals
warm and comfortable in Winter was to smear them all over with oil,
thus saving much of the cost of feeding them, I tried the plan on the
aged cow. Perhaps the oil I used was not sufficiently pure. At all
events the animal, which had never been known before to do more than
proceed at a leisurely walk, rushed at frantic speed into the garden,
and tossed my wife's mother into a cucumber-frame. She has now gone
home. Undeterred by the comparative failure of this attempt, I smeared
our donkey with a pint of the best castor-oil, just before setting out
on its daily amble, with the children (in panniers) on its back. It
did not appear to relish the treatment, as it instantly broke loose,
and was found, five miles off, in a village pound, while the children
were landed in a neighbouring ditch. I am writing to Messrs.
MACDOUGALL, to ask for particulars of how the oil is to be applied. I
am sure it is an excellent idea, if the animals could be brought to
see it in the same light.
Yours, experimentally,
DARWIN EDISON GUBBINS.
***
MY DEAR MR. PUNCH,--SMITH Minor, who is staying at our house for part
of the holidays, said what good fun it would be to try the MACDOUGALL
plan on my Uncle from India. He is always cold and shivering. We
waited till he was having a nap after dinner in the arm-chair, and we
coated him over with butter that SMITH Minor got from Cook. (Cook
never will give _me_ butter.) When we got to his hair he unfortunately
woke up, so that is probably why the plan did not succeed. We thought
he would be pleased to feel warmer, but he wasn't. Uncles are often
ungrateful, SMITH Minor says. And it _did_ succeed in one way, because
he seemed awfully hot and red in the face when he found what we had
been doing. Perhaps we ought not to have tried smearing him on his
clothes, but how could we get his clothes off without waking him?
SMITH Minor says it's a pity we didn't drug him. N.B.--I have been
stopped going to the Pantomime for this, and SMITH Minor is to be sent
home!
Your dejected TOMMY.
***
SIR,--I want to bring an action against Messrs. MACDOUGALL, of Mark
Lane. I tried their smearing plan on a horse in my stable that had a
huge appetite, and was always getting cold if left out in the wet. I
used paraffin, and at first the animal seemed really grateful. In the
night I was called up by a fearful noise, and found that the horse's
appetite had not got at all less owing to the oil; on the contrary, it
seemed to have eaten up most of the woodwork of the stable, and was
plunging about madly. The paraffin caught light, and the stable was
burned, and the horse too. In future I shall feed my horse in the
usual way, not on the outside.
Yours, TITUS OATS.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE THIN BROWN LINE.]
["Decidedly the most gratifying feature in the accounts of
these engagements which have reached us, is the proof which
they contain of the remarkable progress in all soldierly
qualities made by the fellaheen forces, under the guidance and
instruction of their British Officers."--_The Times._]
_Tommy Atkins, loquitur_:--
"WE'VE fought with many men acrost the seas,
And some of 'em was brave, an' some was not."
(So Mister KIPLING says. His 'ealth, boys, please!
'_E_ doesn't give us TOMMIES Tommy-rot.)
We didn't think you over-full of pluck,
When you scuttled from our baynicks like wild 'orses;
But you're mendin', an' 'ere's wishing of you luck!
Wich you're proving an addition to our forces.
So 'ere's _to_ you, though 'tis true that at El Teb you cut and ran;
You're improvin' from a scuttler to a first-class fighting man;
You can 'old your own at present when the bullets hiss and buzz,
And in time you may be equal to a round with Fuzzy-Wuz!
You've been lammed and licked sheer out of go an' grit,
From the times of Pharaoh down to the Khe-_dive_;
Till you 'ardly feel yerself one bloomin' bit,
And I almost wonder you are left alive.
But we've got you out of a good deal of _that_,
Sir EVELYN and the rest of us. You _foller_;
And you'll fight yer weight in (Soudanese) wild cat
One day, nor let the Fuzzies knock you oller.
Then 'ere's _to_ you, my fine Fellah, and the missis and the kid!
When you stand a Dervish devil-rush, and do as you are bid,
You'll just make a TOMMY ATKINS of a quiet Coptic sort;
And I shouldn't wonder then, mate, if the Fuzzies see some sport.
Some would like us lads to clear out! Wot say _you_?
_We_ don't tumble to the Parties and their fakes;
But I guess we don't mean scuttle. If we _do_,
We shall make the bloomingest o' black mistakes;
With the 'owling Dervishes you've stood a brush,
With a baynick you can cross a shovel-spear;
But leave yer to the French, and Fuzzy's rush?
That won't be a 'ealthy game for many a year.
So 'ere's _to_ you, my fine Fellah! May you cut and run no more,
Though the 'acking, 'owling, 'ayrick-'eaded niggers rush and roar,
We back you, 'elp you, train you, and to make the bargain fair,
We won't leave you--yet--to Fuz-Wuz--him as broke a British Square.
You ain't no "thin red" 'eroes, no, not yet,
But a patient, docile, plucky, "thin brown line."
May be useful in its way, my boy, you bet'!
All good fighters may shake fists, you know--'ere's mine!
You're a daisy, you're a dasher, you're a dab!
I'll fight with you, or join you on a spree
Let the skulkers and the scuttlers stow their gab,
TOMMY ATKINS drinks your 'ealth with three times three!
So 'ere's _to_ you, my fine Fellah! 'E who funked the 'ot Soudan,
And the furious Fuzzy-Wuzzies, grows a first-class fighting-man:
An' 'ere's _to_ you, my fine Fellah, coffee 'ide and inky hair
May yet shoulder stand to shoulder with me in a British Square!
* * * * *