Various - Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 159, August 18th, 1920
V >>
Various >> Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 159, August 18th, 1920
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 159.
August 18th, 1920.
CHARIVARIA
The grouse-shooting reports are coming in. Already one of the newly-rich
has sent a brace of gamekeepers to the local hospital.
* * *
"A few hours in Cork," says a _Daily Mail_ correspondent, "will convince
anyone that a civil war is near." A civil war, it should be explained, is
one in which the civilians are at war but the military are not.
* * *
Lisburn Urban Council has decided to buy an army hut for use as a day
nursery. It is this policy of petty insult that is bound in the end to goad
the military forces in Ireland to reprisals.
* * *
"Who invented railways?" asks a weekly paper. We can only say we know
somebody who butted in later.
* * *
"Mr. Churchill," says a contemporary, "has some friends still." It will be
noticed that they are very still.
* * *
"It may interest your readers to know," writes a correspondent, "that it
would take four days and nights, seven hours, fifty-two minutes and ten
seconds to count one day's circulation of _The Daily Mail_." Holiday-makers
waiting for the shower to blow over should certainly try it.
* * *
Coloured grocery sugars, the FOOD CONTROLLER announces, are to be freed
from control on September 6th. A coloured grocery is one in which the
grocer is not as black as he is painted.
* * *
A conference of sanitary inspectors at Leeds has been considering the
question, "When is a house unfit for habitation?" The most dependable sign
is the owner's description of it as a "charming old-world residence."
* * *
The Warrington Watch Committee, says a news item, have before them an
unusual number of applications for pawnbrokers' licences. In the absence of
any protest from the Sleeve Links and Scarf Pin Committee they will
probably be granted.
* * *
"I earn three pounds and fourpence a week," an applicant told the Willesden
Police Court, "out of which I give my wife three pounds." The man may be a
model husband, of course, but before taking it for granted we should want
to know what he does with that fourpence.
* * *
Scarborough Corporation has fitted up and let a number of bathing vans for
eight shillings a week each. To avoid overcrowding not more than three
families will be allowed to live in one van.
* * *
"Three times in four days," says a _Daily Express_ report, "a Parisian has
thrown his wife out of a bedroom window." Later reports point out that all
is now quiet, as the fellow has found his collar-stud.
* * *
"Who Will Fight For England?" asks a headline. To avoid ill-feeling a
better plan would be to get Sir ERIC GEDDES to give it to you.
* * *
A noiseless gun has just been invented. It will now be possible to wage war
without the enemy complaining of headache.
* * *
"Everyone sending clothes to a laundry should mark them plainly so that
they can be easily recognised," advises a weekly journal. It is nice to
know that should an article not come back again you will be able to assure
yourself that it was yours.
* * *
At the present moment, we read, dogs are being imported in large numbers.
It should be pointed out, however, that dachshunds are still sold in
lengths.
* * *
A contemporary complains of the high cost of running a motor-car to-day. It
is not so much the high price of petrol, we gather, as the rising cost of
pedestrian.
* * *
The police, while investigating a case of burglary in a railway buffet,
discovered a bent crowbar. This seems to prove that the thieves tried to
break into a railway sandwich.
* * *
Mexican rebels have been ordered to stop indiscriminate shooting. It is
feared that the supply of Presidential Candidates is in danger of running
out.
* * *
"A Manchester octogenarian has just married a woman of eighty-six," says a
news item. It should be pointed out, however, that he obtained her parents'
consent.
* * *
"Although the old penny bun is now sold for twopence or even threepence it
contains three times the number of currants," announces an evening paper.
This should mean three currants in each bun.
* * *
A parrot belonging to a bargee escaped near Atherstone in Warwickshire last
week and has not yet been recaptured. We understand that all children under
fourteen living in the neighbourhood are being kept indoors, whilst local
golfers have been sent out to act as decoys.
* * *
It is announced that a baby born in Ramsgate on August 6th is to be
christened "Geddes." We are given to understand that the news has not yet
been broken to the unfortunate infant.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Exasperated Partner._ "LOOK HERE--DON'T YOU EVER GET YOUR
SERVICE INTO THE RIGHT COURT?"
_Partner._ "NO, AS A MATTER OF FACT I DON'T. BUT IT WOULD BE ABSOLUTELY
UNPLAYABLE IF I DID."]
* * * * *
THE RESULT OF A LEAP-YEAR.
"Bishop ---- says he will not be able to consider any more proposals
for engagements till after the summer of 1921."--_Local Paper._
* * * * *
AN ECHO FROM BISLEY.--A musical correspondent writes to point out that
sol-faists have an unfair advantage in the running-deer competition,
because they are always practising with a "movable Doh."
* * * * *
FROM SPA AND SHORE.
GROGTOWN.--All available accommodation has been monopolised by Glasborough
visitors, among whom this resort is becoming more alarmingly popular every
year. Sixty charabancs arrived on Monday and the Riot Act was read several
times before the passengers could be induced to desist from their badinage
of the residents, most of whom have since retired behind the wire-
entanglements at Kelrose. The municipal orchestra was subjected to a brisk
fusillade of rock-cakes on Saturday night; the conductor and several of the
instrumentalists suffered contusions, and their performances have since
been discontinued. This has not unnaturally given rise to a certain amount
of dissatisfaction amongst the visitors, but otherwise there has been no
recrudescence of rioting. A company of the Caithness Highlanders, with
machine-guns, are now encamped on the links, and sunshine is all that is
needed to complete the success of the season.
KEGNESS.--On Tuesday the Mayor presented a jar of whisky, fifty years old,
to the winning charabanc team in the bottle-throwing competition, and the
subsequent scenes afforded much diversion. A notable feature at present is
a large whale, which was washed ashore in a gale about six months ago. The
oldest inhabitants declare that they have never known anything like it, and
it is certainly an unforgettable experience to be anywhere within a mile of
this apparently immovable derelict. Excursions to all surrounding places
out of nose-shot are extremely popular, and the beach is practically
deserted save by a few juvenile natives engaged in the blubber industry.
MUDHALL SPA.--Without the least reflection on chalybeates and the rest, it
must be allowed that the most popular beverage in Mudhall at present is
that which draws its virtue from a cereal and not a mineral source.
Hilarity is rife at all hours, and the effort to enlist a body of local
volunteers to control the exuberance of anti-Sabbatarian "charabankers" is
meeting with unexpected support. The casualties in the daily collisions
between the Hydropathic League and the Anti-Pussy-Foot-Guards are steadily
increasing and now compare favourably with those of any other Midland
health-resort.
* * * * *
"A Boylston (Massachusetts) farm labourer is said to havt bees
identified as one of the heirs to a L400,000 estate at Dundte, for whom
starches have betn made for years, but nothing is known at Dundee of
such an estate."--_Daily Paper._
But this lucid paragraph should help to clear up the mystery.
* * * * *
AMONG THE PEDESTALS.
The rumour that a number of London's statues are to be moved to make room
for new has caused many a marble heart to beat faster; and on making a
round of calls I gathered that Sir ALFRED MOND has few friends in stone or
bronze circles. Not the least uneasy is George IV. in Trafalgar Square.
Uneasiness of body he has always known, riding there for ever without any
stirrups; but now his mind is uneasy too. "If they take Father from
Cockspur Street," he argued very naturally, "why not me?"
A few of the figures feel secure, of course, but very few. Nelson on his
column has no fears; Nurse Cavell is too recent to tremble; so is Abraham
Lincoln. But the others? They are in a state of nervous suspense, wondering
if the sentence of banishment is to fall and resenting any disturbance of
their lives. "_J'y suis, j'y reste_" is their motto.
Abraham Lincoln gave me a hearty welcome and extended an invitation that is
not within the power of any other graven image in the city. "Take a chair,"
he said.
I did so and am thus, I suppose, the first Londoner to put that comfortable
piece of furniture to its proper use.
"How do you like being here?" I asked.
He said that he enjoyed it. The only blot on his pleasure was the fear that
the Abbey might fall on him, and he therefore hoped that _The Times'_ fund
was progressing by leaps and bounds.
His immediate neighbours, on the contrary, exhibited no serenity whatever,
and I found Canning and Palmerston shivering with apprehension in their
frockcoats. The worst of it was that I could say nothing to reassure them.
Here and there, however, a desire for locomotion was expressed. Dr.
Johnson, in the enclosure behind St. Clement Danes, is very restive. I
asked him if he would object to removal. "Sir," said the Little
Lexicographer (as his sculptor has made him), "I should derive satisfaction
from it. A man cannot be considered as enviable who spends all his time in
the contemplation, from an unvacatable position, of a street to the
perambulation of which he devoted many of his happiest hours."
I ventured to agree.
"Nor," continued the sage, "is it a source of contentment to a man of
integrity to observe an unceasing procession of Americans on their way to
partake of pudding in a hostelry that has made its name and prosperity out
of a mythical association with himself and be unable to correct the error."
"Are you in general in favour of statuary?" I made bold to ask.
"Painting," said he, "consumes labour not disproportionate to its effect;
but a fellow will hack half a year at a block of marble to make something
in stone that hardly resembles a man. Look around you; look at me. The
value of statuary is owing to its difficulty. You would not value the
finest head cut upon a carrot."
But one effect of this General Post among the statues is good, and it
should delight Mr. ASQUITH. Cromwell, now outside Westminster Hall, is to
be moved into the House.
E.V.L.
* * * * *
FLOWERS' NAMES.
MARIGOLDS.
As MARY was a-walking
All on a summer day,
The flowers all stood curtseying
And bowing in her way;
The blushing poppies hung their heads
And whispered MARY'S name,
And all the wood anemones
Hung down their heads in shame.
The violet hid behind her leaves
And veiled her timid face,
And all the flowers bowed a-down,
For holy was the place.
Only a little common flower
Looked boldly up and smiled
To see the happy mother come
A-carrying her Child.
The little Child He laughed aloud
To see the smiling flower,
And as He laughed the Marigold
Turned gold in that same hour.
For she was gay and innocent--
He loved to see her so--
And from the splendour of His face
She caught a golden glow.
* * * * *
AN OPTIMIST.
"I have just completed a fortnight's tour on a tandem, and can
recommend this form of a holiday as the best I know of.... One Sunday
in June, without exaggeration, I was nearly killed twice, and my wife
was overcome with fright."--_C.T.C. Gazette._
* * * * *
"In a competition at Claygate, Surrey, three children caught 182 green
wasps."--_Daily Paper._
It is believed that they would not have been caught if they had not been
green.
* * * * *
From a recent Admiralty Order:--
"Approval has been given for frocks to be issued to N.C. Officers and
men (Royal Marines) during the current year, for walking out purposes
only."
It is believed that His Majesty's Jollies have received the order without
enthusiasm, on the ground that no mention is made of anything being inside
the frocks.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE ICONOCLAST.
SIR ALFRED MOND. "I'M SORRY TO HAVE TO DISTURB YOUR MAJESTY, BUT, OWING TO
THE SHORTAGE OF SITES--"
GEORGE III. "SHORTAGE OF SIGHTS, INDEED!"
[It is understood that a number of London statues, including that of George
III. in Cockspur Street, are to be removed by the Office of Works to make
room for new ones.]]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Heavy Father._ "PUT YOUR 'AT ON THIS MINUTE, SIR. DO YOU
WANT TO CATCH YOUR DEATHERCOLD?"]
* * * * *
THE VISIONARY.
'Twas last week at Pebble Bay
That I saw the little goat,
Harnessed to a little shay.
Old was he and poor in coat,
And he lugged his load along
Where the barefoot children throng
Round the nigger minstrels' song.
But his eye, aloof and chill,
Said to me as plain as plain,
"I am waiting, waiting still,
Till the gods come back again;
Starved and ugly, mean, unkempt,
I have dreams by you undreamt,
And--I hold you in contempt!
"Dreams of forest routs that trooped,
Shadowy maidens crowned with vines,
Dreams where Dian's self has stooped
Darkling 'neath the scented pines;
Or where he, old father Pan,
Took the hooves of me and ran
Fluting through the heart of man.
"Surely he must come again,
He the great, the horned one?
Shan't I caper in his train
Through the hours of feast and fun!"
And he looked with eyes of jade
Through the sunshine, through the shade,
Far beyond Marine Parade.
* * * * *
Should you go to Pebble Bay,
Golfing or to bathe and boat--
Should you see a loaded shay,
In the shafts a scarecrow goat,
Tell him that you hope (with me)
Pan will shortly set him free,
Pipe him home to Arcady.
* * * * *
CRICKET NOTES.
Mr. P.F. WARNER has received countless expressions of regret on his
retirement from first-class cricket. Among these he values not least a
"round robin" from the sparrows at Lord's, all of whom he knows by name. In
the score-book of Fate is this entry in letters of gold:
"Plum" _c_ Anno _b_ Domini 47.
Long may he live to enjoy the cricket of others!
* * * * *
The test team of Australia being now complete, all correspondence on the
subject of its exclusions must cease. We therefore do not print a number of
letters asking why there is no one named Geddes on the side.
* * * * *
Mr. FENDER and HOBBS are said to be actuated by the same motto, "For Hearth
and Home." Both are pledged to return covered with "the ashes."
* * * * *
In the recent Surrey and Middlesex match Mr. SKEET bewildered the crowd by
fielding as if he liked it. Hitherto this vulgar manifestation has been
confined to HITCH and HENDREN.
* * * * *
Although so late in the season Yorkshire has great hopes of a colt named
HIRST, who has just joined the side. He was seen bowling at Eton and was
secured at once.
* * * * *
There is a strong feeling in Worcestershire that a single-wicket match
between LEE of Middlesex and Mr. PERRIN of Essex would be a very saucy
affair.
* * * * *
AT THE PLAY.
"THE UNKNOWN."
Mr. SOMERSET MAUGHAM, who recently intrigued and perhaps just a little
scandalised the town with a most engagingly flippant and piquant farce all
about an accidentally bigamous beauty, certainly shows courage in launching
so serious a discussion as _The Unknown_. And in the silly season too. I
see that in a quite unlikely interview (but then all modern interviews are
unlikely) he defends his right to discuss religion quite openly on the
stage. Of course. Why should anybody deny that religion is to the normally
constituted mind, whatever its doxy, an absorbingly interesting subject; or
that the War hasn't made a breach in the barriers of British reticence?
Whether to the point of making a perfectly good married Vicar (anxious to
convict a doubting D.S.O. of sin) ask in a full drawing-room containing the
Vicaress, the Doctor and the D.S.O.'s fiancee, mother and father, "For
instance, have you always been perfectly chaste?"--I am not so sure. Nor
whether the War has really added to bereaved _Mrs. Littlewood's_ bitter
"And who is going to forgive God?" any added force. If that kind of
question is to be asked at all it might have been asked, and with perhaps
more justice, at any time within the historical period. For the War might
reasonably be attributed by the Unknown Defendant thus starkly put upon
trial to man's deliberate folly, whereas....
No doubt, however, Mr. MAUGHAM would say the shock of war has (like any
other great catastrophe) tested the faith of many who are personally deeply
stricken and found it wanting, while the whisper of doubt has swelled the
more readily as there are many to echo it. So _Major John Wharton, D.S.O.,
M.C._, having found war, contrary to his expectation of it as the most
glorious manly sport in the world, a "muddy, mad, stinking, bloody
business," loses the faith of his youth and says so, not with bravado but
with regret. The Vicar, with dignity and restraint, but without much
understanding and not without some hoary _cliches_; his wife, with venom
(suggesting also incidentally sound argument for the celibacy of the
clergy); the old _Colonel_ and his sweet unselfish wife, with affection;
and _Sylvia_, _John's_ betrothed, with a strange passion, defend the old
faith, _Sylvia_ to the point of breaking with her lover and getting her to
a nunnery--a business which will in the end, I should guess, lay a heavier
burden upon the nuns than upon _John_. The indecisive battle sways hither
and thither. It is the _Doctor_ who sums up in a compromise which would
shock the metaphysical theologian, but may suffice for the plain man, "God
is merciful but not omnipotent. In His age-long fight against evil we can
help--or hinder; why not help?"
The most signal thing was Miss HAIDEE WRIGHT'S personal triumph as _Mrs.
Littlewood_--a very fine interpretation of an interesting character. Mr.
CHARLES V. FRANCE adds another decent Colonel to his military repertory.
This actor always plays with distinction and with an ease of which the art
is so cleverly concealed as perhaps to rob him of his due meed of applause
from the unperceptive. Lady TREE made a beautiful thing of the character of
_Mrs. Wharton_, whose simple unselfishness was the best of all Mr.
MAUGHAM'S arguments for the defence. Mr. R.H. HIGNETT nobly restrained
himself from making a too parsonic parson, yet kept enough of the
distinctive flavour to excite a passionate anti-clerical behind me into
clamorously derisive laughter; a very good piece of work. Miss O'MALLEY
acted a difficult, almost an impossibly difficult, part with a fine
distinction. Mr. BASIL RATHBONE'S _Major_ and Mr. BLAKISTON'S _Doctor_ were
excellent. I am sorry to be so monotonously approving....
I am not convinced that Mr. MAUGHAM'S experiment has succeeded.
T.
* * * * *
"Mr. ---- maintained that it was extraordinuary that if he was only
slightly dead deceased did not hear the lorry."--_Local Paper._
Most extraordinuary.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Generous Stranger._ "WILL YOU HAVE ANOTHER PINT? (_No
answer._) I SAY--WILL YOU HAVE ANOTHER PINT?"
_Hodge._ "DON'T 'EE ASK ZILLY QUESTIONS. ORDER IT."]
* * * * *
THE MYSTERY.
George and I are two ordinary people. He studies the Weather Reports every
day; I do occasionally. He thinks he understands meteorology; I don't. But
lately I felt that I _must_ have some explanation of the weather, so I
asked George to explain it.
He said, "Certainly; it's quite simple. Take wind. Wind is caused by
differences of _pressure_."
"What _is_ pressure? Who is pressing what?"
"Pressure is what the barometer tells you--not the thermometer; you must
keep the thermometer out of this. Suppose it is very hot in London--"
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Well, suppose it is very hot at a place A--"
"I thought we were keeping the thermometer out of this."
"It comes in indirectly. But don't keep interrupting. If it is very hot at
the place A, the air at A rises. You see?"
"No."
"Obviously it does. If you light a candle--"
"Yes, yes, I do see that. Don't begin about candles."
"Well, the result of that is that there is less _pressure_ at A. In other
words, there is more room for the air to move about. When that happens the
air at the place B--"
"Where is that?"
"Oh anywhere. I told you to think of two places, A and B."
"No, you told me to think of a place A, and I am still thinking of it,
because it is very hot there."
"Well, this is another place, where the pressure is simply frightful. When
the air rises at A the air from B rushes over to A to fill up the gap, and
that is what we call wind."
"I see."
"No, you don't. It isn't quite so simple as that. Now, the atoms of air
rushing from B to A don't go _straight_ there, but they travel in--in sort
of _circles_."
"Why do they do that?"
"Well, the fact is that these atoms are so keen to get over to A, where
there is plenty of room, that they jostle each other, and that makes them
go round and round. If they go round and round _against_ the clock, like
that, they are called cyclones, or depressions, or low-pressure systems. If
they go with the clock, like that, it is an anti-cyclone."
"Oh!"
"What do you mean--'Oh'?"
"What I said; but go on."
"Now suppose this air--"
"Which air?"
"The air from B. Suppose it is travelling in a cyclone--"
"But isn't a cyclone a low-pressure thingummy?"
"Yes."
"And didn't you say that B was a high-pressure place?"
"Yes."
"Then how does the air coming from B manage to be low-pressure stuff?"
"I see what you mean. There _is_ an explanation, but it would take too long
to hazard it now. Suppose the air is coming from B in an anti-cyclone, then
..."
"All right. I'll suppose that."
"... it rushes over to A and fills up the gap. There is more pressure at A
and the barometer goes up--"
"Is it fine then?"
"No, it rains. You see, the air from B is colder than the air at A was
before the air came from B."
"I _don't_ see."
"Well, obviously it _must_ be."
"How 'obviously'?"
"Well, the whole thing started with it being very hot at A, you remember,
so that the air rose. If it had been hotter still at B just then the air
would have risen at B instead, and it couldn't have rushed over to A.
There'd have been a frightful muddle."
"There is."
"Well, it's your own fault for interrupting. This air, then--"
"Which air is this?"
"The air from B. The air from B cools the air at A--"
"But I thought the air at A had risen."
"Not all of it. And that makes it rain."
"Why?"
"Oh, well, I can't go into that. It's something to do with condensation.
Air absorbs more moisture when it is hot than when it is cold--"
"So do I. I understand that."
"When the air cools the water condenses."
"Is it fine then?"
"No, it rains, you fool."
"When is it fine?"
"Wait a bit. The falling of the rain of course generates heat--"
"Why 'of course'?"
"I can't explain _exactly_, but you know perfectly well that it's always
warmer on a cold day after the rain."
"Yes, but not on a hot day."
"Yes, it is."
"No, it isn't."
"It is, really. Anyhow, this is a cold day."
"No, it isn't. You said it was very hot at A."
"I'm not going to argue. You must take it from me that rain generates
heat."
"All right. Is it fine then?"
"No. Heat being generated the air rises. The result of that is that there
is less _pressure_ at A--"
"Is it fine then?"
"I've explained already what happens then. The air from B--"
"Do we begin all over again now?"
"More or less, yes."
"So that at this place, A, it's always raining or just going to rain?"
"Yes, if it starts by being hot there, as it did just now, I suppose it
is."
"What happens if it starts by being cold?"
"It rains. I've explained that. The cold air can't contain so much
moisture--"
"Don't begin that again. What about B? Is it any good going there? We had
frightfully high pressure there at one time."
"Yes, but it rains so much at A that more and more air rushes from B to A
to fill up the gap caused by the air rising on account of the heat
generated by the rain falling, and very soon you get frightfully low
pressure at B--"