Various - Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 159, August 4th, 1920
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Various >> Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 159, August 4th, 1920
AUSTEN (_Tea and most other things_).--This bottomless-cupped bank-paper-
white-edged-and-rimmed-with-tape-pink-margin bloom, the reflex of whose
never-fading demand notes is velvety black thunder-cloud with lightning-
flash six-months-in-the-second-division veinations, has never been known to
be too full. It is supported by a landlordly stalk of the utmost excess-
profits-war-profits-minor-profits rigidity. A decorative, acquisitive and
especially captivating rose, and already something more than a popular
favourite. 18s. in L1.
SIR THOMAS (_Ceylon and India Tea_).--This true sport from the British
bull-dog rose has a slightly globular double-hemisphere-popular greatly-
desiring-and-deserving-to-be-cupped bloom whose pearly preserved cream
flesh is delicately flushed and mottled with tinned salmon and dried
apricot. Rich golden and banking-account stamina, foliage deep navy blue
with brass buttons and a superb fragrance of western ocean. Its marvellous
try-try-try-again floriferousness in all weathers is the admiration of all
beholders. Price no object.
* * * * *
From a weather forecast:--
"General Outlook.--It appears probable that further expressions will
arrive from the westward or north-westward before long, and that after
a temporary improvement the weather will again become unsettled; with
much cloud and occasional rain."--_Evening Paper._
In which event further expressions (of a sultry character) may be expected
from all round the compass.
* * * * *
"COME UNTO THESE YELLOW SANDS."
[Illustration: "COME UNTO THESE YELLOW SANDS AND THEN--]
[Illustration: --TAKE HANDS."--[_The Tempest_, Act I., Sc. 2. ]
* * * * *
QUEEN'S COUNSEL.
The Fairy Queen shook her head in answer to my question. "No," she said, "I
have no favourite flower."
She had dropped in after dinner, as was her occasional habit, and at the
moment sat perched on a big red carnation which stood in a flower-glass on
the top of my desk.
"You see," she continued, floating across to where I was sitting and
lowering her voice confidentially, for there were a good many flowers
about--"you see it would never do. Just think of the trouble it would
cause. Imagine the state of mind of the lilies if I were to show a
preference for roses. There's always been a little jealousy there, and
they're all frightfully touchy. The artistic temperament, you know. Why, I
daren't even sleep in the same flower two nights running."
"Yes, I see," I said. "It must be very awkward."
I lapsed into silence; I had had a worrying day and was feeling tired and a
little depressed. The Queen fluttered about the room, pausing a moment on
the mantel-shelf for a word or two with her old friend the Dresden china
shepherdess. Then she came back to the desk and performed a brief _pas
seul_ on the shining smooth cover of my pass-book. My mind flew instantly
to my slender bank-balance and certain recent foolishnesses.
"Talking of favourites," I said--"talking of favourites, do you take any
interest in racing?"
Instantly the Queen subsided on to my rubber stamp damper, which was
fortunately dry.
"Oh, yes," she replied, "I take a _great_ interest in racing. I love it. I
can give you all sorts of hints."
I thought it was a pity she hadn't called a week or two earlier. I might
have been a richer woman by a good many pounds.
"And there are so many kinds," continued the Queen earnestly. "Now in a
butterfly race it's always best just to hold on and let them do as they
like. It's not a bit of use trying to make them go straight. Rabbits are
better in that way, but even rabbits are a little uncertain at times. Full
of nerves. But have you ever tried swallow-racing?" she went on
enthusiastically. "It's simply splendid. You give them their heads and you
never know _where_ you may get to. But, anyway, it doesn't really matter in
the least afterwards who wins; it's only while it's happening that you feel
so thrilled, isn't it?"
I didn't acquiesce very whole-heartedly. I'm afraid my thoughts were with
my lost guineas. It _had_ rather mattered afterwards. I really had been
very foolish.
"You look depressed," said the Fairy Queen. "Can I help you? I'm really
extremely practical. You know, don't you," she leaned forward and looked at
me earnestly, "that I should be delighted if I could assist you with any
advice?"
I hesitated. Just before she came I had been anxiously considering as to
how I was going to make one hundred pounds do the work of two during the
next few weeks; but somehow I didn't quite like to mention such material
matters to the Queen; it didn't seem suitable.
I looked up and met her kind eyes fixed on mine with an expression of the
gentlest interest and solicitude.
"I wonder," I said, still hesitating, "whether you know anything about
stocks and shares?"
"Stocks and shares," she repeated slowly, looking just a little vague and
puzzled. And then--"Oh, yes, of course I do, if that's all you want to
know."
I felt quite pleased now that I had really got it out.
"If you could just give me a useful hint or two I should be tremendously
grateful," I said. Already thousands loomed entrancingly before me. Already
I saw myself settled in that darling cottage on the windy hill above
Daccombe Wood. Already--
"I think I had better get a pencil and paper," I said. "My memory's
dreadful."
But the Fairy Queen shook her head.
"I'll write it down for you," she said, "and you can read it when I'm gone.
That's so much more fun. But I don't need paper."
She drew a tiny shining implement from her pocket and, picking up a couple
of rose-petals which had fallen upon the table, she busied herself with
them for a moment at my desk, her mouth pursed up, her brows contracted in
an expression of intense seriousness.
"There," she said, "that's that. And now show me _all_ your new clothes."
We spent quite a pleasant evening over one thing and another, and I forgot
all about the rose-leaves until after she had gone; but when I came back to
my empty sitting-room they shone in the dusk with a soft radiance which
came, I discovered, from the writing on them. It glowed like those luminous
figures on watches which were so entrancing when they first appeared. I had
never realised before that they were fairy figures.
I spread the petals out on my palm, feeling quite excited at the prospect
of making my fortune by such means, though I was a little anxious as to how
I was going to make use of the information I was about to acquire.
"I will ask Cousin Fred," I decided (Cousin Fred being a stockbroker), and
I smiled a little to myself as I thought how amazed and possibly amused my
dapper cousin would be when he learnt the source of my knowledge. He might
even refuse to believe in it--and then where should I be?
I needn't have troubled. When I unfolded my rose-petals this is what I
read:--
"_Stocks._--The white ones are much the best and have by far the sweetest
scent.
_Shares._--_Always_ go shares."
R.F.
* * * * *
HEART OF MINE.
(_Being a rather hysterical contribution from our Analytical Novelist._)
_Friday._--I suppose one never realises till one is actually dead how
nearly dead one can be without actually being it. You see what I mean? No.
Well, how blithely, how recklessly one rollicks through life, fondly
believing that one is in the best of health, in the prime of condition, and
all the time one is the unconscious victim of some fatal infirmity or
disease. I mean, take my own case. I went to see my doctor in order to be
cured of hay fever. He examined my heart. He made me take off my shirt. He
hammered my chest; he rapped my ribs with his knuckles to see if they
sounded hollow. I don't know why he did this, but I think he was at one
time attached to a detective and has got into the habit of looking for
secret passages and false panels and so on.
Anyhow, he suspected my chest, and he listened at it for so long that any
miscreant who had been concealed in it would have had to give himself away
by coughing or blowing his nose.
After a long time he said, "Your heart's dilated. You want a complete rest.
Don't work. Don't smoke. Don't drink. Don't eat. Don't do anything. Take
plenty of exercise. Sit perfectly still. Don't mope. Don't rush about. Take
this before and after every meal. Only don't have any meals." I laughed at
him. I knew my heart was perfectly sound, much sounder than most men's. I
went home. I didn't even have the prescription made up.
_Saturday._--Now comes the tragic thing. _That very night I realised that
he was right._ There _is_ something wrong with my heart. It is too long. It
is too wide. It is too thick. It is out of place. It would be difficult to
say _exactly_ where the measurements are wrong, but one has a sort of
_sense_ ... you know?... One can feel that it is too large.... A swollen
feeling.... Somehow I never felt this before; I never even felt that it was
there ... but now I always know that it is there--trying to get out.... I
put my hand on it and can feel it definitely expanding--like a football
bladder. Sometimes I think it wants to get out at my collar-bone; sometimes
I think it will blow out under my bottom rib; sometimes some other way. It
is terrible....
I have had the prescription made up.
_Sunday._--The way it beats! Sometimes very fast and heavy and emphatic,
like a bad barrage of 5.9's. Fortunately my watch has a second-hand, so
that I can time it--forty-five to the half-minute, ninety-five to the full
minute. Then I know that the end is very near; everyone knows that the
normal rate for a healthy adult heart is seventy-two. Then sometimes it
goes very slow, very dignified and faint, as when some great steamer glides
in at slow speed to her anchorage, and the engines thump in a subdued and
profound manner very far away, or as when at night the solemn tread of some
huge policeman is heard, remote and soft and dilated--I mean dilatory, or
as when--But you see what I mean.
_Monday._--How was it, I wonder, that all this was hidden from me for so
long? And now what am I to do? I am a doomed man. With a heart like this I
cannot last long. I have resigned my clubs; I have given up my work. I can
think of nothing but this dull pain, this heavy throbbing at my side. My
work--ha! Yesterday I met another young doctor at tea. He asked me if there
was any "murmur." I said I did not know--no one had told me. But after tea
I went away and listened. Yes, there was a murmur; I could hear it plainly.
I told the young doctor. He said that murmurs were not considered so
important nowadays. What matters is "the reaction of the heart to work." By
that test I am doomed indeed. But the murmur is better.
_Tuesday._--I have told Anton Gregorovitch Gregorski. He says he has a
heart too.
_Wednesday._--I have been learning things to-day. I am worse even than the
doctor thought. In a reference book in the dining-room there is a medical
dictionary. It says: "Dilatation leads to dropsy, shortness of breath and
blueness of the face." I have got some of those already. I have never seen
a face so blue. It is like the sea in the early morning.
_Thursday._--The heart is bigger again to-day--about an inch each way. The
weight of it is terrible to carry.... I have to take taxis.... This evening
it was going at thirty-two to the minute....
_Friday._--Last night, when I tried to count the beats, I could not find
it.... It must have stopped.... Anton Gregorovitch says it is the end....
This is my last entry....
_Saturday._--My face is very blue. It is like a forget-me-not ... it is
like a volume of _Hansard_....
I shall go to see the doctor as I promised ... he can do nothing, but it
will interest him to see how much bigger the heart has grown in the last
few days....
No more....
_Sunday._--The doctor said it was much better.... It is undilated again....
After all I am not going to die. But the reaction to work is still bad.
This evening I make it sixty to the minute....
_Monday._--This morning's count was seventy-two. It is terrible....
A.P.H.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Sympathetic Old Lady._ "AND WHEN YOU WENT DOWN FOR THE
THIRD TIME THE WHOLE OF YOUR PAST LIFE OF COURSE FLASHED BEFORE YOUR EYES?"
_Longshore Billy._ "I EXPECT IT DID, MUM, BUT I 'AD 'EM SHUT AT THE TIME,
SO I MISSED IT."]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Mollie._ "AUNTIE, DON'T CATS GO TO HEAVEN?"
_Auntie._ "NO, MY DEAR. DIDN'T YOU HEAR THE VICAR SAY AT THE CHILDREN'S
SERVICE THAT ANIMALS HADN'T SOULS AND THEREFORE COULD NOT GO TO HEAVEN?"
_Mollie._ "WHERE DO THEY GET THE STRINGS FOR THE HARPS, THEN?"]
* * * * *
FLOWERS' NAMES.
SHEPHERD'S PURSE.
There was a silly shepherd lived out at Taunton Dene
(Hey-nonny-nonny-no for Taunton in the summer!)
And oh, but he was bitter cold! and oh, but he was mean!
The maidens vowed a bitterer had never yet been seen
At Taunton in the summer.
He lived to gather in the gold--he loved to hear it chink
(Hey-nonny-nonny-no for Taunton in the summer!),
And he could only dream of gold--of gold could only think;
And all the fairies watched him, and they watched him with a wink
At Taunton in the summer.
At last one summer noonday, when the sky was blue and deep
(Hey-nonny-nonny-no for Taunton in the summer!),
They made him heavy-headed as he watched beside his sheep
And all the little Taunton elves came stealing out to peep
At Taunton in the summer.
They opened wide his wallet and they stole the coins away
(Hey-nonny-nonny-no for Taunton in the summer!),
They took the round gold pieces and they used them for their play,
They rolled and chased and tumbled them and lost them in the hay
At Taunton in the summer.
And when they'd finished playing they used all their magic powers
(Hey-nonny-nonny-no for Taunton in the summer!);
The silly shepherd woke and wept, he sought his gold for hours,
And all he found was drifts and drifts of tiny greenish flowers
At Taunton in the summer.
* * * * *
MORE WORK FOR HIS MAJESTY'S JUDGES.
"Potato disease has unfortunately made its appearance in the ----
district, the early and second early crops being seriously attacked.
The late crops are free from disease up to the present, and it is hoped
by judicial spraying to save them."--_Local Paper._
* * * * *
From an interview with the Superintendent of Regent's Park:--
"'People seem surprised,' he said, 'when I tell them that within a few
minutes' walk of Baker Street Station, and the incessant din of
Marylebone Road, such birds as the cuckoo, flycatcher, robin and wren
have reared their young.'"--_Observer._
To hear of the cuckoo bringing up its own family in any circumstances was,
we confess, a little bit of a shock.
* * * * *
"'Idling, my dear fellow!' was Mr. Jerome K. Jerome's decisive answer
to my question: 'What do you most like doing at holiday-time?'
'But if, and only when, I am really driven to exertion, let me have a
horse between my legs, a pair of oars, and a billiard-table, and I ask
nothing more of the gods.'"--_Answers._
The next time Mr. JEROME indulges in this performance may we be there to
see.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE LEAGUE OF YOUTH.
WAR-WEARY WORLD (_at the Jamboree_). "I WAS NEARLY LOSING HOPE, BUT THE
SIGHT OF ALL YOU BOYS GIVES IT BACK TO ME."]
* * * * *
ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
_Monday, July 26th._--When the Peers were about to discuss the Law of
Property Bill, which seeks to abolish the distinction between land and
other property, Lord CAVE dropped a bombshell into the Committee by moving
to omit the whole of Part I. Lords HALDANE and BUCKMASTER were much upset
and loudly protested against the proposal to cut out "the very heart and
substance of the measure." The LORD CHANCELLOR was less perturbed by the
explosion and was confident that after further discussion he could induce
the CAVE-dwellers to come into line with modern requirements. Thirty-four
clauses thus disappeared with a bang; and of the hundred and odd remaining
only one gave much trouble. Objection was taken to Clause 101, granting the
public full rights of access to commons, on the grounds _inter alia_ that
it would give too much freedom to gipsies and too little to golfers. Lord
SALISBURY, who, like the counsel in a famous legal story, claimed to "know
a little about manors," was sure that only the lord could deal faithfully
with the Egyptians, but, fortified by Lord HALDANE'S assurance that the
clause gave the public no more rights and the lords of the manor no less
than they had before, the House passed it by 42 to 29.
Mr. BRIDGEMAN, for the Board of Trade, bore the brunt of the early
questioning in the House of Commons. He sustained with equal
imperturbability the assaults of the Tariff Reformers, who asserted that
British toy-making--an "infant industry" if ever there was one--was being
stifled by foreign imports: and those of the Free Traders, who objected to
the Government's efforts to resuscitate the dyeing trade.
The alarming rumours in the Sunday papers about the PRIME MINISTER'S state
of health were effectively dispelled by his appearance on the Front
Opposition, a little weary-looking, no doubt, but as alert as ever to seize
the weak point in the adversary's case and to put his own in the most
favourable light. From the enthusiasm of his announcement that the Soviet
Government had accepted our invitation to attend a Conference in London,
one would have thought that the Bolshevists had agreed to the British
proposals unconditionally and that peace--"that is what the world
wants"--was now assured.
[Illustration: _David._ "YOU KNOW THE RHYME, GRANDMAMA, THAT SAYS--
'THIS LITTLE PIG WENT TO MARKET,
AND THIS LITTLE PIG STAYED AT HOME'?"
_The Mother of Parliaments._ "YES, DAVID, DEAR. WHY DO YOU MENTION IT?"
_David._ "OH, I WAS MERELY WONDERING WHAT WAS TO BE DONE ABOUT IT."]
Abhorrence of the Government of Ireland Bill is the one subject on which
all Irishmen appear to think alike. It is, no doubt, with the desire to
preserve that unanimity that the PRIME MINISTER announced his intention of
pressing the measure forward after the Recess "with all possible despatch."
But before that date it looks as if Irishmen would have despatched one
another. The little band of Nationalists had handed in a batch of
private-notice Questions arising out of the disturbances in Belfast. Their
description of them as the outcome of an organised attack upon Catholics
was indignantly challenged by the Ulstermen, and the SPEAKER had hard work
to maintain order. The contest was renewed on a motion for the adjournment.
As a means of bringing peace to Ireland the debate was absolutely futile.
But it enabled Mr. DEVLIN to fire off one of his tragical-comical orations,
and Sir H. GREENWOOD to disclaim the accusation that he had treated the
Irish problem with levity. "There is nothing light and airy about me," he
declared; and no one who has heard his pronunciation of the word "Belfast"
would doubt it.
Before and after this melancholy interlude good progress was made with the
Finance Bill, and Mr. CHAMBERLAIN made several further concessions to the
"family-man."
_Tuesday, July 27th._--The Lords rejected the Health Resorts and Watering
Places Bill under which local authorities could have raised a penny rate
for advertising purposes. Lord SOUTHWARK'S well-meant endeavour to support
the Bill by reminding the House that Irish local authorities had enjoyed
this power since 1909 was perhaps the proximate cause of its defeat, for it
can hardly be said that the last few weeks have enhanced the reputation of
Ireland as a health resort.
Mr. HARMSWORTH utterly confounded the critics of the Passport Office. Its
staff may appear preposterously large and its methods unduly dilatory, but
the fact remains that it is one of the few public departments that actually
pays its way. Last year it spent thirty-seven thousand pounds and took
ninety-one thousand pounds in fees. "See the world and help to pay for the
War" should be the motto over its portals.
It is, of course, quite proper that soldiers who wreck the property of
civilians--albeit under great provocation--should receive suitable
punishment. But a sailor is hardly the man to press for it. Lieutenant-
Commander KENWORTHY received a much-needed lesson in etiquette when Major
JAMESON gravely urged, in his penetrating Scotch voice, that soldiers in
Ireland should be ordered not to distract the prevailing peace and quiet of
that country, but should keep to their proper function of acting as targets
for Sinn Fein bullets.
Mr. CHAMBERLAIN dealt very gingerly with Sir ARTHUR FELL'S inquiry as to
whether "any ordinary individual can understand the forms now sent out by
the Income Tax Department?" Fearing that if he replied in the affirmative
he would be asked to solve some particularly abstruse conundrum, he
contented himself with saying that the forms were complicated because the
tax was complicated, and the tax was complicated because of the number and
variety of the reliefs granted to the taxpayer. It does not seem to have
occurred to him that it is the duty of the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER to
make the tax simple as well as equitable. Is it conceivable that he can
have forgotten ADAM SMITH's famous maxims on the subject, and particularly
this: "The time of payment, the manner of payment, the quantity to be paid,
ought all to be clear and plain to the contributor, and to every other
person"?
[Illustration: MR. BONAR LAW PACKS HIS TRUNKS.]
The House did not rise till half-past one this morning, and was again faced
with a long night's work. In vain Sir DONALD MACLEAN protested against the
practice of taking wee sma' Bills in the wee sma' oors. Mr. BONAR LAW was
obdurate. He supposed the House had not abandoned all hope of an Autumn
recess. Well, then, had not the poet said that the best of all ways to
lengthen our days was to steal a few hours from the night?
The Report stage of the Finance Bill was finished off, but not until the
Government had experienced some shocks. The Corporation tax, intended
partially to fill the yawning void which will be caused some day by the
disappearance of E.P.D.--on the principle that one bad tax deserves
another--was condemned with equal vigour, but for entirely different
reasons, by Colonel WEDGWOOD and Sir F. BANBURY. They "told" together
against it and had the satisfaction of bringing the Government majority
down to fifty-five.
The champions of the Co-operative Societies also put up a strong fight
against the proposal to make their profits, for the first time, subject to
taxation. Mr. CHAMBERLAIN declined, however, to put them in a privileged
position as compared with other traders, but carried his point only by
sixty-one votes.
_Wednesday, July 28th._--In spite of the limitation of Questions the Member
for Central Hull still manages to extract a good deal of information from
the Treasury Bench. This afternoon he learned from Mr. LONG that the Board
of Admiralty was not created solely for the purpose of satisfying his
curiosity; and from Mr. KELLAWAY that the equipment of even the most
versatile Under-Secretary does not include the gift of prophecy.
At long last the House learned the Government decision regarding the
increase in railway fares. It is to come into force on August 6th, by which
time the most belated Bank-Holiday-maker should have returned from his
revels. Mr. BONAR LAW appended to the announcement a surely otiose
explanation of the necessity of the increase. Everybody knows that railways
are being run at a loss, due in the main to the increased wages of miners
and railway-men. Mr. THOMAS rather weakly submitted that an important
factor was the larger number of men employed, and was promptly met with the
retort that that was because of the shorter hours worked.
Cheered by the statement of its Leader that he still hoped to get the
adjournment by August 14th the House plunged with renewed zest into the
final stage of the Finance Bill. Mr. BOTTOMLEY, whose passion for accuracy
is notorious, inveighed against the lack of this quality in the Treasury
Estimates. As for the war-debt, since the Government had failed to "make
Germany pay," he urged that the principal burden should be left for
posterity to shoulder.
These sentiments rather shocked Mr. ASQUITH, who, while mildly critical of
Government methods, was all in favour of "severe, stringent, drastic
taxation." Mr. CHAMBERLAIN repeated his now familiar lecture to the House
of Commons, which, while accusing the Government of extravagance, was
always pressing for new forms of expenditure. In the study of economy he
dislikes abstractions--except from the pockets of the taxpayer.