(New Style).
'Tis sweet, so sage LUCRETIUS wrote of yore,
To watch a storm-tossed vessel from the shore,
Or safely placed, when hosts in conflict close,
To view the battle as it ebbs and flows;
But he, poor ancient, never knew the rare
Delight afforded by an easy-chair,
Wherein the slippered critic, at his ease,
His ample writing-pad upon his knees,
Primed with historic and romantic lore,
Indites his weekly comment on the War;
Revises or expands official news
With graphic touches and resplendent hues;
Teaches the doubtful battle where to rage
And sprinkles diagrams on ev'ry page;
Creates new posts or, at his own sweet will,
Proceeds expected vacancies to fill;
Deposes Kings, Prime Ministers, Grand Dukes,
And rival pundits suitably rebukes.
A hundred thousand readers every week
For solace in his commentaries seek,
Swear by his arguments, and swear at those
Which rival quidnuncs artfully oppose.
Matched with an occupation such as this
Philosophy is destitute of bliss;
He only breathes content's untroubled air
Who wages warfare from a snug armchair.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _R.N. Cadet_ (_during his first term at Osborne--where he
has been told always to salute his superior officers of both
services--meeting some "temporary" subalterns who disregard his
salute_). "Really, mother, if these temporary subs of the junior service
cannot behave as gentlemen and return my salute, I shall certainly give
up taking any notice of them." ]
* * * * *
GOOD OPENINGS FOR M.P.'s.
_The Manchester Guardian_ complains that there is a remarkable monotony
about the opening of speeches in the House of Commons.
"On Wednesday forty-five speeches (not counting brief efforts in the way
of interjections) were delivered, and in thirty cases the speeches began
with the first person singular. Only fifteen members could think of
anything more original." It appears that four speeches began with "I
beg," four with "I should like," three with "I wish," and three with "I
am sure."
It may be a little daring, perhaps, to suggest that some originality
should be introduced into the methods of Parliamentary orators (writes a
correspondent); but as one whose courage has never failed him in telling
other people how to go about their business I venture to suggest a few
openings which possibly have never yet been utilised.
As it is half the battle, to the speaker, to grip interest at the very
outset, the following might be tried: "Drip, drip, drip--the blood fell
from the ceiling." This would cause departing Members to drop sharply
back into their seats. Only a little ingenuity would be required to make
these words the opening of a speech on any timely topic. Our
aristocratic legislators could make certain of arresting attention by
beginning, "In the words of a friend of mine, a well-known Peckham
butcher"--another gambit that could be made to suit any subject, from
the shipping problem to the Zeppelin nuisance.
Or again, "The missis woke me up in the middle of last Tuesday night,
and said"--This is the kind of homely touch that would ensure a
sympathetic hearing.
Members might also make a good start with "'Twas" and "Methinks," even
at the risk of being accused of the use of unparliamentary expressions.
If they would only study the poets I they would find plenty of bright
and original openings. What better could be desired than BROWNING'S
"So, at home, the sick tall yellow Duchess
Was left with the infant in her clutches,"
if occasion should arise in the House for criticism of the heartless
action of a Local Tribunal in disallowing a Duke's claim for exemption?
Many a man possesses an undiscovered knack of extempore rhyming, a gift
which has seldom or never been exercised in the House of Commons. That
will be a bright day for legislators when a Member rises in his place
and begins something like this: "Sir, if the House will bear with me one
moment, I should like to say that I, for one, cannot agree that we have
found the perfect way of dealing with a gross neglect to which all
honest men object." Any Member who could keep up that sort of thing for
half-an-hour (and some, no doubt, could, if they would only practise)
would achieve lasting fame, not only for his originality, but because of
the remarkable scenes amid which his concluding lines would almost
certainly be uttered.
* * * * *
"The Germans planned to expel the British from South Africa,
aided by disinfected Boers."
_Englishman (Calcutta)_,
But, in the end, it was General BOTHA who cleared out the Germs.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Mabel_ (_after Sunday tea, on departure of officers
quartered in the neighbourhood_). "I'm glad Captain Devereux didn't
come, as I'm not looking my oldest to-day."]
* * * * *