_First Pilot_. Why, it's Brown-Jones!
_Second Pilot_. Hullo, old thing! What are you doing now?
_First Pilot_. Oh, I'm down at Puddlemarsh teaching huns--monoavros,
pups and dolphins.
_Second Pilot_. I'm on the same game, down at Mudbank--sop-two-seaters
and camels. We've got an old tinside, too, for joy-riding.
_First Pilot_. You've given up the rumpety, then?
_Second Pilot_. Yes. I was getting ham-handed and mutton-fisted,
flapping the old things every day; felt I wanted to stunt about a bit.
_First Pilot_. Have you ever butted up against Robinson-Smith at
Mudbank? He was an ack-ee-o, but became a hun.
_Second Pilot_. Yes, he crashed a few days ago--on his first solo
flip, taking off--tried to zoom, engine konked, bus
stalled--sideslip--nose-dive. Not hurt, though. What's become of
Smith-Jones? Do you know?
_First Pilot_. Oh, yes. He's on quirks and ack-ws. He tried spads, but
got wind up. Have you seen the new-----?
_Second Pilot_. Yes, it's a dud bus--only does seventy-five on the
ceiling. Too much stagger, and prop stops on a spin. Besides, I never did
care for rotaries. Full of gadgets too.
_First Pilot_. Well, I must tootle off now. I'm flapping from
Northbolt at dawn if my old airship's ready--came down there with a konking
engine--plug trouble.
_Second Pilot_. Well, cheerio, old thing--weather looks dud--you're
going to have it bumpy in the morning, if you're on a pup.
_First Pilot_, Bye-bye, you cheery old bean.
_[Exeunt._
[Illustration: THE POLITICIAN WHO ADDRESSED THE TROOPS]
The Emperor Karl of Austria, by his recent indiscretions, is winning for
himself the new title of "His Epistolic Majesty." His suggestion that
France ought to have Alsace-Lorraine has grated on the susceptibilities of
his brother Wilhelm. But a new fastidiousness is to be noted in the Teuton
character. "Polygamy," says an article in a German review, "is essential to
the future of the German race, but a decent form must be found for it."
_May, 1918_.
With the coming of May the Vision of Victory which had nerved Germany to
her greatest effort seemed fading from her sight. With its last days we see
them making a second desperate effort to secure the prize, capturing
Soissons and the Chemin des Dames and pushing on to the Marne. This time
the French have borne the burden of the onslaught, but Rheims is still
held, the Americans are pouring in to France at the rate of 250,000 a
month, and have proved their mettle at Cantigny, a small fight of great
importance, as it "showed their fighting qualities under extreme battle
conditions," in General Pershing's words, and earned the praise of General
Debeney for the "offensive valour" of our Allies.
[Illustration: The Threatened Peace Offensive
GERMAN EAGLE (to British Lion): "I warn you--a little more of this
obstinacy and you'll rouse the dove in me!"]
The British troops have met Sir Douglas Haig's appeal as we knew they
would:
Their _will_ to _win_ let Boches bawl
As loudly as they choose,
When once our back's against the wall
'Tis not our _wont to lose_.
Those who have gone back at the seventh wave are waiting for the tide to
turn. To the fainthearted or shaken souls who contend that no victory is
worth gaining at the cost of such carnage and suffering, these lines
addressed "To Any Soldier" may serve as a solvent of their doubts and an
explanation of the mystery of sacrifice:
If you have come through hell stricken or maimed,
Vistas of pain confronting you on earth;
If the long road of life holds naught of worth
And from your hands the last toil has been claimed;
If memories of horrors none has named
Haunt with their shadows your courageous mirth
And joys you hoped to harvest turn to dearth,
And the high goal is lost at which you aimed;
Think this--and may your heart's pain thus be healed--
Because of me some flower to fruitage blew,
Some harvest ripened on a death-dewed field,
And in a shattered village some child grew
To womanhood inviolate, safe and pure.
For these great things know your reward is sure.
The Germans have reached Sevastopol, but the Kaiser's Junior Partner in the
South is only progressing in the wrong direction. While Wilhelm is
laboriously struggling to get nearer the sea, Mehmed is getting farther and
farther away from it. The attitude of Russia remains obscure. Mr. Balfour
tells us that it is not the intention of the Government to appoint an
Ambassador to Russia. But there is talk of sending out an exploration party
to find out just where Russia has got to. Russia, however, is not the only
country whose attitude is obscure. The Leader of the Irish Nationalist
Party is reported to have said to a New York interviewer: "We believe that
the cause of the Allies is the cause of Freedom throughout the world." At
the same time, while repudiating the policy of the Sinn Feiners, he
admitted that he had co-operated with them in their resistance to the
demand that Ireland should defend the cause of Freedom. The creed of Sinn
Fein--"Ourselves Alone"--is at least more logical than that of these
neutral Nationalists:
And is not ours a noble creed
With Self uplifted on the throne?
Why should we bleed for others' need?
Our motto is "Ourselves Alone."
Why prate of ruined lands out there,
Of churches shattered stone by stone?
We need not care how others fare,
We care but for "Ourselves Alone."
Though mothers weep with anguished eyes
And tortured children make their moan,
Let others rise when Pity cries;
We rise but for "Ourselves Alone."
Let Justice be suppressed by Might,
And Mercy's seat be overthrown;
For Truth and Right the fools may fight,
We fight but for "Ourselves Alone."
Meanwhile, the gentle Mr. Duke has retired from the Chief Secretaryship to
the Judicial Bench; Mr. Shortt, his successor, recently voted against
conscription for Ireland; Lord French, the new Viceroy, is believed to
favour it. The appointments seem to have been made on the cancelling-out
principle, and are as hard to reconcile as the ministerial utterances on
the recent German push. Thus Mr. Macpherson declared that the crisis came
upon us like a thief in the night, while on the same day Mr. Churchill
observed that the German offensive had opened a month later than we had
calculated, and consequently our reserves in munitions were correspondingly
larger than they would have been. Anyhow, it is a good hearing that the
lost guns, tanks, and aeroplanes have all been more than replaced, and the
stores of ammunition completely replenished, while at the same time
munition workers have been released for the Army at the rate of a thousand
_a_ day. These results have been largely due to the wonderful work of
the women, who turned out innumerable shells of almost incredible
quality--not like that depicted by our artist.
[Illustration: THE DUD]
Mr. Bonar Law has brought in his Budget and asked for a trifle of 842
millions. We are to pay more for our letters, our cheques, and our tobacco.
The Penny Postage has gone, and the Penny Pickwick with it. For the rest we
have had the Maurice Affair, which looked like a means of resurrecting the
Opposition but ended in giving the Government a new lease of life, and Sir
Eric Geddes has given unexpected support to the allegations that the German
pill-boxes were made of British cement. At least he admitted that the port
of Zeebrugge was positively congested with shiploads of the stuff.
Proportional Representation has been knocked out for the fifth time in this
Parliament; and we have to thank Sir Mark Sykes for telling us that the
Whip's definition of a crank is "a wealthy man who does not want a
Knighthood, or a nobleman who does not want to be an Under-Secretary."
War is a great leveller. The Carl Rosa Company are about to produce an
opera by an English composer. And war _is_ teaching us to revise our
histories. For example, "'Nelson,' the greatest naval pageant film ever
attempted, will," says the _Daily News_, "tell the love story of
Nelson's life and the outstanding incidents of his career, including the
destruction of the Spanish Armada." No scandal about Queen Elizabeth, we
trust. The _Daily News_, by the way, is much exercised by Mr. Punch's
language towards the enemy, which it describes as being in the Billingsgate
vein. In spite of which rebuke, and at the risk of offending the readers of
that patriotic organ, Mr. Punch proposes to go on saying just what he
thinks of the Kaiser and his friends.
The price of tobacco, as we have seen, is becoming a serious matter, but
Ireland proposes to grapple with the problem in her own way. The
Ballinasloe Asylum Committee, according to an announcement in the
_Times_ of May 14, have decided, with the sanction of the authorities,
to grow tobacco leaf for the use of their inmates. "A doctor said that if
the patients were debarred from an adequate supply of tobacco there would
be no controlling them."
As a set-off to the anti-"Cuthbert" campaign in the Press the War Cabinet
has in its Report declared that "the whole Empire owes the Civil Service a
lasting debt of gratitude." It looks as if there was something in red tape
after all. We must not, however, fail to recognise the growth of the new
competitive spirit in the sphere of production, and Mr. Punch looks forward
to the establishment of Cup Competitions for Clydesdale Riveters and London
Allotment workers. Woman's work in munition factories has already been
applauded; her services on the land are now more in need than ever.
[Illustration: WOMAN POWER