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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOL. 156.

JANUARY 15, 1919.







CHARIVARIA.

A memorial to SIMON DE MONTFORT has been unveiled at Evesham, where he
fell in 1265. A pathetic inquiry reaches us as to whether SIMON is yet
demobilised.

***

We are informed that the project of adding a "Silence Room" to the
National Liberal Club is to be resuscitated.

***

"Small one piece houses of concrete," says _The National News_, "are
now quite common in America." The only complaint, it appears, is that
some of them are just a trifle tight under the arms.

***

We hope that the proposed revival by a well-known theatre manager of
_The Sins of David_ so shortly after the General Election is not the
work of a defeated Candidate.

***

"Some of the discredited Radical organs," says a contemporary, "are
already toying with Bolshevism." A case of "_Soviet qui peut_."

***

The report that a number of distinguished Irish Unionists have been
ordered to choose between the LORD-LIEUTENANT's Reconstruction
Committee and the O.B.E. is causing anxiety in Dublin Club circles.

***

Weymouth Council has decided to change the name of Holstein Avenue. We
deprecate these attempts to force the Peace Conference's hand.

***

Mr. HENRY FORD's new paper is called _The Dearborn Independent_. Most
independent papers, it is noticed, are that.

***

"Why has the Government raised the price of new sharps?" asks "FARMER"
in _The Daily Mail_. They may cost more, but they look to us like the
same old sharps.

***

"Sensation-mongering" is the public's verdict on the startling report
circulated last week that a Civil Servant had been seen running.

***

The National Potato Exhibition, it is announced, will in future be
held at Birmingham. The League of Political Small Potatoes, on the
other hand, has moved its permanent headquarters to Manchester.

***

There were 21,457 fewer paupers in London last week compared with
the same period in 1915, it is stated. All we can say is, it isn't
London's fault.

***

A correspondent, writing to a contemporary, thinks it should be
illegal for one taxi-driver to talk to another in the streets. It
would be interesting under these circumstances to see what happened
if two rival cabs collided.

***

With reference to the Upper Norwood gentleman who is reported to
have arrived home early one night last week, it is not true that he
travelled by tube. He walked.

***

One thing after another. No sooner is influenza on the wane than we
read of a serious outbreak of Jazz music in London.

***

We gather from the interviews appearing in the papers that Mr. PHILIP
SNOWDEN is of the opinion that his defeat was due to the General
Election.

***

We are asked to deny the rumour that the KAISER has offered to compete
for _The Daily Mail_ trans-Atlantic flight and has offered to forgo
the prize.

***

Scientists are agreed, says _Tit-Bits_, that there is nothing to
prevent people living for five hundred or even one thousand years. We
feel, however, that in the case of certain very objectionable persons
exemption might be given at the age of about forty years.

***

"Blwyddyn Newydd Dda i bawb Ohonynt" was the reported greeting sent by
Mr. LLOYD GEORGE to his election agent. Other delegates to the Peace
Conference are talking in the same truculent strain.

***

One of the men for whom our heart goes out in sympathy is a South
Carolina farmer who has been in the habit of doctoring himself with
the help of a medical book. When only fifty-five years of age he died
of a misprint.

***

A prisoner charged at London Sessions with stealing was described as
"one of a most daring and clever gang of thieves." It is said that he
has asked counsel for permission to use this excellent testimonial on
his note-headings.

***

An Irish farmer aged one hundred-and-four years, who took a prominent
part in the General Election, has just died. This should be a lesson
to people who meddle with politics.

***

"The current open secret in Society," says _The Star_, "is the
engagement of Lady DIANA MANNERS, but when it will be announced only
she herself will decide." This is extraordinary. A few weeks ago the
decision would have rested with the newspapers.

***

There were 523 fewer books published last year than in the year
before. This, we understand, is explained by the fact that Mr. CHARLES
GARVICE and Mr. E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM each went to the theatre one
night in the early autumn.

* * * * *

[Illustration: "I WISH MY HUSBAND HAD JOINED THEM PIVOTS INSTEAD OF
THE FOOSILEERS. HE'D 'A' BEEN DEMOBILISED BY NOW."]

* * * * *

REGULUS UP-TO-DATE.

"Traveller. - Wanted a pushing young man, to work through England
and Scotland in barrel hoops." - _Daily Telegraph._

* * * * *

"To these manifestations the President raised his hat, his smiling
face indicating the measure of his pleasure at the leave-taking
with the British public." - _Daily Paper._

One of the things that might perhaps have been expressed differently.

* * * * *

REDISTRIBUTION.

The Bolshevist plan to conciliate Labour
Is based on the maxim of Beggar your Neighbour,
With the glorious result, when they share out the loot,
That ev'ry one's sure of possessing _one_ boot.

* * * * *

THE RHYME OF THE "RIO GRANDE."

By Salthouse Dock as I did pass one day not long ago,
I chanced to meet a sailorman that once I used to know;
His eye it had a roving gleam, his step was light and gay,
He looked like one just in from sea to blow a nine months' pay;
And as he passed athwart my hawse he hailed me long and loud:
"Oh, find me now a full saloon where I may stand the crowd;
I'm out to rouse the town this night as any man may be
That's just come off a salvage job, my lad, the same as me....

"Bringin' home the _Rio Grande_, her as used to be
_Crack o' Moore_, Mackellar's Line, back in ninety-three;
First of all the 'Frisco fleet, home in ninety-eight,
Ninety days to Carrick Roads from the Golden Gate;
Thirty shellbacks used to have all their work to do
Hauling them big yards of hers, heaving of her to
Down off Dago Ramirez, where the big winds blow,
Bringin' home the _Rio Grande_ twenty years ago.

"We picked her up one morning homeward bound from Portland, Maine,
In a nine-knot grunting cargo tramp, by name the _Crown o' Spain_;
The day was breaking cold and dark and dirty as could be,
It was blowin' up for weather as we couldn't help but see.
Her crew was gone the Lord knows where - and Fritz had left her too;
He must have took a scare and quit afore his job was through;
We tried to pass a hawser, but it warn't no kind o' good,
So we put a salvage crew aboard to save her if we could....

"Bringin' home the _Rio Grande_ and her freight as well,
Half-a-score of steamboatmen cursin' her like hell,
Flounderin' in the flooded waist, scramblin' for a hold,
Hangin' on by teeth and toes, dippin' when she rolled;
Ginger Dan the donkeyman, Joe the 'doctor's' mate,
Lumpers off the water-front, greasers from the Plate,
That's the sort o' crowd we had to reef and steer and haul,
Bringin' home the _Rio Grande_ - ship and freight and all.

"Our mate had served his time in sail, he was a bully boy,
It'd wake a corpse to hear him hail 'Foretopsail yard ahoy!'
He knew the ways o' squaresail and he knew the way to swear,
He'd got the habit of it here and there and everywhere;
He'd some samples from the Baltic and some more from Mozambique;
Chinook and Chink and double-Dutch and Mexican and Greek;
He'd a word or two in Russian, but he learned the best he'd got
Off a pious preachin' skipper - and he had to use the lot....

"Bringin' home the _Rio Grande_ in a seven-days' gale,
Seven days and seven nights, the same as JONAH'S whale,
Standard compass gone to bits, steering all adrift,
Courses split and mainmast sprung, cargo on the shift ...
Not a chart in all the ship left to steer her by,
Not a glimpse of star or sun in the bloomin' sky ...
Two men at the jury wheel, kickin' like a mule,
Bringin' home the _Rio Grande_ up to Liverpool.

"The seventh day off South Stack Light the sun began to shine;
Up come an Admiralty tug and offered us a line;
The mate he took the megaphone and leaned across the rail,
And this or something like it was the answer to her hail:
He'd take it very kindly if they'd tell us where we were,
And he hoped the War was going well, he'd got a brother there,
And he'd thought about their offer and he thanked them kindly too,
But since we'd brought her up so far, by God we'd see it through....

"Bringin' home the _Rio Grande_ (and we done it too),
Courses split and mainmast sprung - half a watch for crew -
Bringin' home the _Rio Grande_ and her freight as well,
Half-a-score of steamboatmen cursing her like hell -
Her as led the grain fleet home back in ninety-eight,
Ninety days to Carrick Roads from the Golden Gate -
Half-a-score of steamboatmen to steer and reef and haul,
Bringin' home the _Rio Grande_ - ship and freight and all."

C.F.S.

* * * * *

HELPFUL HOME HINTS

(_WITH ACKNOWLEDGMENTS TO THE WEEKLY PAPERS_).

To keep moth from a haggis, sprinkle well with prussic acid or cayenne
pepper. Repeat three times daily. (This method has never been known to
fail.)

An excellent germicide for wire-worm can be made with two parts
carbolic acid and three parts castor-oil. Rub over the wire-worm with
a soft rag and polish with a clean duster.

To remove dust from whiskers, soak whiskers in paraffin or petrol for
half-an-hour and singe gently with lighted taper.

To clean a carpet, take a small wet tea-leaf and roll it well over the
carpet. Then remove the tea-leaf and store in a dry place. Take the
carpet to the cleaners and you will be surprised at the result.

An excellent trousers press can be made in the following manner: Get
the local monumental mason to supply you with two slabs of granite
measuring about six feet by two feet and weighing about seven
hundredweight each. Place the trousers on top of one block of granite,
place the other block on top of the trousers and secure with a couple
of book-straps. Finish off with blue ribbon. - AUNT SADIE.

* * * * *

"America appealed to Ireland for help, and even sent a special
Ambassador - the great Abraham Lincoln - to this country to
state America's case before the Irish Parliament in the year
1771." - _Dublin Evening Mail_.

American papers please copy.

* * * * *

"The - - Chamber of Commerce have certainly made a capture in
securing the services of Bragadier-General - - , District Director
of the Ministry of Labour, for an address on 'Demobilisation and
the Activities of the Appointments Department of the left eye,
and after treatment was taken the Portsea Island Gas Company
offices." - _Provincial Paper_.

We had heard there was some trouble over demobilisation, but had no
idea it was as bad as this.

* * * * *

"Arrangements are being made in all the stations throughout India
for the celebration of the signing of the armistice. In Simla the
Commander-in-Chief will be present at a parade on the Ridge
at 11.45 a.m., civilians in leaves dress assembling at
11.30." - _Times of India_.

It is pleasant to note that the establishment of the armistice brought
about an immediate return, in Simla at least, to the conditions of
Paradise.

* * * * *

[Illustration: RUINS OF EMPIRE.

SHADE OF BISMARCK. "I BUILT WITH BLOOD AND IRON, AND ONLY BLOOD
REMAINS."]

* * * * *

THE NECROMANCERS.

The other day, while I was out for a ride, I happened to run up
against my two Chinese acquaintances, Ah Sin and Dam Li, and I stopped
to have a chat with them. After the usual greetings Dam Li remarked: -

"Hon'lable officer lookee too muchee sad."

"Allee same like littlee dog when 'nother big dog stealum bone,"
supplemented Ah Sin.

"I wasn't aware of it," I said shortly, a little hurt at the
comparison.

"P'haps hon'lable officer losee lations allee same little dog,"
suggested Dam Li.

"Well," I admitted, "I _have_ lost something - at least the Mess has.
Only it isn't rations; it's a milk-jug."

This, our only article of plate, was a battered piece of
treasure-trove salved from the ruins of a derelict village.

Dam Li was all sympathy.

"You talkee China boy. Him findum one time plenty quick," he announced
confidently.

"All right," I said; "only you won't get anything just for trying,
mind. You'll have to succeed."

"China boy no wantchee nothing," replied Dam Li reproachfully.

"Him only wantchee officer smile allee same like dog waggee tail when
lations come back," added Ah Sin by way of embroidery.

"Thank you," I said gravely. "And when do you propose to start
replacing my smile?"

Apparently there was no time like the present, so back we went to the
Mess and they set to work. Their opening move was somewhat startling,
even to me who knew them of old.

"Giveum China boy one piecee blead," commanded Dam Li.

"What for?" I demurred.

"China Boy eatum blead and talkee plenty good player [prayer]," said
Ah Sin. "Then thief-man too muchee flighten' an' giveum back jug
plenty dam quick."

"But why should he be afraid?" I asked.

Ah Sin was very patient with me.

"Players plenty stlong language talkee," he said. "S'pose thief-man
not giveum back jug, belly get plenty too muchee fat ..."

"An' go bang allee same air-dlagon bomb," broke in Dam Li, rubbing his
hands together at the prospect.

"Very well, you may have your loaf," said I, capitulating; and then
rashly I added, "Is there anything else you'd like?"

"Beer makee players plenty much worser for thief-man," said Ah Sin
ingratiatingly.

In the end I produced the beer as well as the bread and the
incantations commenced. They consisted in getting outside my bread and
beer, and in filling the intervals between mouthfuls with a copious
barrage of Chinese, occasional prostrations and a considerable amount
of laughter. This last aroused my suspicions and I asked what it
meant.

"Thief-man keepee plenty big pain here," explained Dam Li, indicating
the region to which the bread and beer had by now all descended. "Him
topside mad this minute."

"Giveum back jug to-mollow," prophesied Ah Sin. "China boy come an'
see," he added as he got up to go.

The morrow arrived and so did the Chinamen, but not the milk-jug. This
seemed to cause Ah Sin and Dam Li the greatest surprise.

"Thief-man No. 1 stlong man," asserted the former.

"Wantchee extla double-lation players," agreed his companion.

"Hon'lable officer giveum China boy 'nother piece blead," suggested Ah
Sin.

"An' baer," added Dam Li hastily.

Nosing an obvious conspiracy I at first refused. However I at length
gave way on the understanding that there was on no account to be a
third imposition. The rites of the day before were thereupon repeated.

When they were over Dam Li suddenly professed himself to be inspired.

"China boy seeum jug," he announced.

"Where?" I asked.

"Seeum box, plenty too muchee big," Dam Li went on in sepulchral
tones; "jug inside box."

Ah Sin now joined in.

"Where isum box?" he asked excitedly.

"No savvy," replied Dam Li, shaking his head.

Ah Sin gazed wildly around. Seeing a box in the distance he rushed at
it. Dam Li waved him back.

"That box no dam use," he stated.

Ah Sin tried again.

"P'haps him in dirty box," he suggested.

Dam Li rolled his eyes inwards, as one who consulted an oracle within.

"Jug inside dirty box," he agreed ultimately, pointing in its
direction.

"Oh, in the dust-bin," I said. "Well, there's no harm in looking."

So look we did, and there, sure enough, it was. I picked it out and
did some quick thinking.

"Now, when did you two ruffians put it there?" I asked sternly.

"Thief-man put it there," protested Dam Li, with a magnificent look of
injured innocence.

"I know," said I. "Come on, now, tell me why you stole it, and, as
you've brought it back again, I _may_ let you off."

"China boy's lations too muchee few, him plenty hungly," said Ah Sin,
seeing that the game was up.

"S'pose him sellum jug, buy plenty beer," confided Dam Li
unblushingly.

"But hon'lable officer lookee too muchee sad, so China boy dam solly.
Fetchee back jug," resumed Ah Sin.

As I had often gone out of my way to do the pair a good turn I was
naturally pained at their ingratitude. Taking the jug, I turned away
in silence and left them. Ah Sin pursued me.

"Hon'lable officer likee jug?" he asked.

Dam Li, who had followed, answered for me.

"Likee jug allee same China boy likee lations," he explained.

"An' China boy gottee lations, blead an' beer, allee same hon'lable
officer gottee jug," continued Ah Sin.

"Then what more can wantchee?" concluded Dam Li triumphantly.

I surrendered unconditionally.

* * * * *

GOOD-BYE, AUSTRALIANS!

Through the Channel's drift and toss
Swift your homing transports churn;
Soon for you the Southron Cross
High above your bows shall burn;
Soon beyond the rolling Bight
Gleam the Leeuwin's lance of light.

Rich reward your hearts shall hold,
None less dear if long delayed,
For with gifts of wattle-gold
Shall your country's debt be paid;
From her sunlight's golden store
She shall heal your hurts of war.

Ere the mantling Channel mist
Dim your distant decks and spars,
And your flag that victory kissed
And Valhalla hung with stars -
Crowd and watch our signal fly:
"Gallant hearts, good-bye! _Good-bye_!"

W.H.O.

* * * * *

THE ALIENS IN OUR MIDST.

"But most of the people aboard that car, if they had been
truthfully outspoken, would probably have said, 'Dem's my
sentiments.'" - _Evening Paper_.

* * * * *

"MARK OF CENTENARIAN.

"Mrs. Rachel - - , a former resident of this city, was the guest
of honor at a dinner served yesterday at her son's home in
Wilkinsburg, the occasion being the 92nd anniversary of her birth.
Mrs. - - was born in Somerset County and resided in this city
before the flood." - _American Paper_.

At first we thought the headline a little previous, but the last
sentence shows that it is, on the contrary, decidedly belated.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Indignant Patriot_ (_to Local Food Committee_). "I
WISH TO REPORT THAT THERE'S A GROCER IN THIS TOWN WHO IS SELLING
BUTTER, SUGAR AND JAM WITHOUT COUPONS. HE - "

_Food Committee_ (_as one man, ecstatically_). "WHICH IS HIS SHOP?"]

* * * * *

SOMETHING LIKE "LITERARY GOSSIP"!

Are you not, dear reader, a little tired of what is called "Literary
Gossip"? Be frank. Aren't you? And have you not sometimes longed even
more to know what the industrious fellows were not writing than what
they were?

But suppose we could come across an authentic column like this?

Mr. KIPLING is putting the finishing touches to a new Jungle book.
The first and second Jungle books have waited too long for this new
companion; but it is now on its way. A friend of the author, who has
been privileged to see an early copy, says that it is full of all the
old enchantment.

* * * * *

Our Burwash correspondent informs us that, not content with the
re-incarnation of _Mowgli_, Mr. KIPLING has completed a new romance of
wandering life in India, not unlike _Kim_ in treatment, to be entitled
_The Great Trunk Road_.

* * * * *

An album has just come to light, the value of which is beyond
computation. On the faded leaves of this book, which once belonged to
Fanny Brawne, are inscribed three new poems in KEATS'S own hand. Not
mere album verses, but poems of the highest importance, equal to rank
to the Odes to the Grecian Urn and the Nightingale. The book itself
will be sold by auction next week, but meanwhile the poems are to be
issued in pamphlet form by Sir SIDNEY COLVIN.

* * * * *

An enterprising firm of publishers announces for immediate publication
a volume by President WILSON, entitled _From White House to Buckingham
Palace_. This work is in the form of a diary of singular frankness,
and it contains some vivid accounts of conversations as well as the
writer's honest opinion of some of the most prominent personages of
the moment.

* * * * *

Admirers of O. HENRY will be excited to hear that a bundle of MS.
stories in his best vein, some seventy-five all told (and how told!),
has been discovered in a cupboard in one of his old lodgings: much
as the manuscript of TENNYSON'S _In Memoriam_ was found in his
rooms in Mornington Crescent. How it happened that the historian
of the joys and sorrows, the comedies and tragedies, of little old
Baghdad-on-the-Subway neglected to send these tales to editors
we shall never know, but he was always erratic. The book will be
published at once, both in America and England.

* * * * *

After an interval of several years - far too many - Sir JAMES BARRIE has
finished a new novel. With his customary reticence he withholds both
the title and the subject; but the important thing is that the book is
at the binders.

Having read those announcements I succumbed to precedent and woke up.

* * * * *

AN ARTFUL APPEAL.

From a Japanese business circular: -

"Ladies and Gentlemen, - Congratulating upon the great victory
of our Allies, we want to supply you Water Colour Pictures and
Antique Prints fresh and much selected subjects painted by the
most famous artists in Japan; so we long to have the honour to
receive your favourable inspection and enjoy yourselves with
triumphing victory for Our Lord's blessing in X'mas time."

* * * * *

"Surely with all the wars and rumours of wars all over the world,
a little mare tact could have been displayed by the powers that
be to keep the peace in the very centre of a British
Protectorate." - _Leader (East Africa)_.

The quality desired would appear to be the East African equivalent of
horse sense.

* * * * *

MORE REPRISALS.

That ass Ellis is a poor creature, and, like the poor, he is always
with me. I think he is a punishment inflicted upon me for some past
error.

A short time ago I caught the "flu." Naturally the first person I
suspected was Ellis, but I am bound to confess that I have not been
able to prove it. Indeed, when he followed me to hospital two days
later and was put in the next bed, I felt justified in exonerating him
altogether.

The first remark that he made, when he reached that stage of the
complaint where you feel like making remarks, illustrates just the
kind of man he is. He accused _me_ of giving the thing to _him_!

I answered his outburst with the scorn it deserved.

"Preposterous," I said.

I added a few apposite remarks, to which he responded as best he
could. But, medically speaking, I was two days senior to him, so
that when the Sister heard the uproar and bustled up it was he who
was forbidden to speak. She then proceeded to clinch the matter by
inserting a thermometer in his mouth. I defy any man to argue under
such a handicap.

I finished all I had to say and relapsed into an expectant silence.


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