With the approach of the silly season one's thoughts turn naturally
to the prospect of stealing into print and enjoying all the sweets
of authorship without the reception of a cheque to vulgarise them. An
infinite variety of topics, our representative gathered yesterday, is
now on the eve of discussion, and the quill that cannot find something
to say on at least one of them had better return to its native goose
without delay.
"Mother of Ten," we were informed by the courteous editor of _The
Halfpenny Bleater_, will as usual open that journal's discussion, and
this year her thoughts have turned to bathing fatalities. "Should
Land Crabs Learn Swimming" is the subject which she (or, to betray
an office secret, he) has selected. Due emphasis on the necessity for
university costume in the case of an affirmative reply to the question
will be laid by "Paterfamilias," who will contribute the second letter
of the series.
_The Morning Dip_ will maintain its reputation for intellectuality
with a spiritual discussion on "Has Life a Double Meaning?" or
"Is Existence a Joke?"--the exact title has not yet been decided.
"Constant Reader" has already bought a penny packet of assorted
stationery and charged it to the office petty cash, and only a really
good murder can prevent the early appearance of his letter. As readers
will remember, correct spelling is a feature of this author's work.
In pursuance of its settled policy _The Daily Giggle_ will appeal more
especially to the fair sex. There is more than a touch of pathos
in the signature "Orphan Boy," which will appear at the foot of his
letter on the subject, "Are First Cousins Kissable?"
Perhaps, however, the most vital question of all will be raised in
_The Daily Jingo_, where "Pro Bono Publico" will lay down his views on
"Our Softening Sinews." In his well-known style, which is so happy a
blend of public spirit and split infinitives, he will plead for less
indulgence in our dealings with the young. "We are," he says in his
peroration, which we were privileged to see, "raising up a soft breed,
and we shall live to bitterly rue it. The future of the race is, of
course, on the knees of the gods, but let us determine to also lay
it across the knee of parent and schoolmaster. So shall the rising
generation learn the merits of the strong right arm that has made
England what it is."
In conjunction with _The Perfect Little Lady_, which will discuss "The
Highest Type of Man," the editor of _The Brain Pan_ will throw open
his columns to all those with views on "The Most Attractive Girl." For
the start he has secured the services of "Virile Englishman," who
will put aside her knitting to take up the pen in obedience to his
commands. _The Perfect Little Lady_'s first letter will be contributed
by "Sweet Seventeen," who has studied her subject by diligent
attendance at all the best boxing matches of the current year.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Anglo-Indian Child._ "WHAT'S THIS, DADDY?"
_Father._ "THAT'S LIVER, MY DEAR."
_Child._ "LIVER! WHOSE LIVER?"
_Father._ "SHEEP'S LIVER."
_Child._ "AH! I WONDER WHAT GAVE _IT_ LIVER!"]
* * * * *
"'I do not see why, I do not see why,' he repeated, rising up
and down."--_The Times._
We do not see how.
* * * * *
A New Way to Deal with the Cold.
"Originally fitted with luxurious saloons and cabins for
tourists to Greenland and Spitzbergen, the Endurance is a
very different ship to-day. Her cabins are being turned into
store-rooms and officers and crew will sleep in odd corners,
for two years' provisions have to be curried."--_Evening
News._
* * * * *
"The music of Borodin, the composer of 'Prince Igor,' is
little known in England, apart from the Polovtsienne Dances
which, owing to their wind and barbaric character, have
been so popular a feature of the performances of the Russian
Ballet."--_Musical Opinion._
Why drag in the wind? The strings were just as good as the wind when
we were there.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE GIRL OF THE PERIOD.
_New Maid._ "VOILA, MA'M'SELLE."
_Debutante._ "HEAVENS, MY GOOD GIRL, THAT WON'T DO. HERE, GIVE ME THE
THINGS. WHY, HALF-WAY ACROSS THE ROOM NO ONE WOULD SEE I WAS MADE UP
AT ALL!"]
* * * * *