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PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

Volume 147

September 16, 1914.

CHARIVARIA.

"Our future lies upon the water," once boasted the Kaiser. "And our present lies in it," as the German soldier remarked when the Belgians opened the dykes near Antwerp.

The mass of the German people would seem to be extraordinarily ill-informed in regard to the War and to stand sadly in need of enlightenment in some respects. For example, their ebullitions of rage against everyone and everything English shows that they are ignorant of the fact that we are a decadent nation and a negligible quantity in the War.

Many of the little scraps in which the Germans were reported by their Press to have been victorious now turn out to have been merely scraps of paper.

According to The Times one of the first acts of the new Pope will be to urge the Powers at war to desist from hostilities in the interests of humanity. It is rumoured that Austria-Hungary thinks this a capital idea.

Our readers will, we are sure, be sorry to hear that the lady who, as reported in our pages the week before last, in the course of a difference with her husband, called him "a bloomin' Oolan," has once again had words with him. This time, the husband complains, she shouted after him, "You 'Un!"

An appeal has been made for magazines for the men at the front. The following extract from a letter touches on the subject:—"On Wednesday heavy German cavalry charged us with drawn sabres, and we only had a minute to prepare to receive them. We left our entrenchments and, rallying in groups, emptied our magazines into them as they drew near."

We regret to hear that, owing to so many persons failing to go out of Town this year, there is considerable distress among London burglars. The oldest among them do not remember a duller season.

A dear old lady writes to say that she is delighted to hear that the Crystal Palace has been taken over by the Admiralty, as she loves the place, and it is so brittle.

Another dear old thing suggests that, in order to facilitate the work of the police, all spies should be compelled to wear a distinctive dress.

With the object of benefiting the local branch of the National Relief Fund there has been published at Brighton the first number of a paper called The Ally. Our contemporary, Ally Sloper, has generously decided in the circumstances to take no proceedings with a view to protecting its title.

"Why," asks a lady, "should not waitresses take the place of the German waiters whose services are now being dispensed with?" Possibly we may be wrong, but we seem to remember once having seen an announcement on the placard of a feminist journal to the effect that:—

WOMEN
CAN NOT
WAIT.

Lord Rosebery, speaking the other day at Broxburn, said that defeat for us would not mean foreign tax-gatherers in the country. We are glad of this. It would be deplorable if the tax-gatherer were ever to become an unpopular figure with us.

THE HUNTER HUNTED.

[With acknowledgments to Mr. J. C. Dollman.]

The Fog of War.

"A final shell struck the Laurel amidship, enveloping her in a dense certainohtstl thesemac recsmscvtm mecevsccvc."

Glasgow Citizen.

THE CHALLENGE.

"Arthur," I said, "you are not handsome, but you have sterling qualities and know a thing or two."

"You are not exactly a mezzotint yourself," Arthur retorted, "and I'm not sure that you have any particular qualities yet. What does this lead up to?"

"This," I said. "Suppose you are a sentry, outside barracks or an encampment of some kind."

"I'm supposing," he said.

"And suppose," I went on, "you don't know me."

"I've supposed worse things than that," said Arthur with decision.

"And try further," I said, "to imagine that it's a dark night, and I come along and don't notice you. You'd say, 'Halt, who goes there?' wouldn't you?"

"I should if I remembered my lines, I suppose."

"Very well," I said. "Then I should say, 'Friend.'"

"Well," said Arthur, "where's the catch?"

"There isn't a catch," I said. "What I want to know is, how do we go on after that?"

"I should ask you if you'd got such a thing as a cigarette about you," said Arthur.

"You might do that," I said, "but it doesn't sound helpful. The reason I ask is because I've read the instructions several times in the papers on the courtesies to be observed when meeting a sentry; but the scene always ends at this point—'Friend.' What happens next?"

"Perhaps the right thing," said Arthur, "would be for you to ask after the Colonel's wife. But I might not let you get as far as that. The odds would be in favour of my not believing you when you said 'Friend,' and in that case I should either shoot or pink you. The choice between these two processes would lie with me."

"But wouldn't that be rather sudden? Surely you make another remark first. I seem to remember something about 'sign and countersign.'"

"You're thinking of trigonometry, aren't you?" said Arthur.

"Perhaps I am," I said. "Anyway it's awkward not knowing what happens next."

"I know the best way to find out," said Arthur suddenly. "Get your boots on. We'll go and enlist."

LEAVES FROM AN IMPERIAL NOTE-BOOK.

As I have taken occasion to tell them from time to time, God is sparing no effort in favour of My brave armies. The noble courage with which they have crushed a defenceless peasantry (who, by the way, do not seem to share My recognition of the Deity's support of Our methods) has proved them to be the authorised medium of the Divine vengeance. I am very pleased with both them and God.

The destruction of Louvain, seat of a culture wholly distinct from the Prussian ideal, was an inspiration, in which I once more detect the Hand of Heaven. Unfortunately it has been misunderstood in neutral countries; and, to appease their protests, I have had to explain that this feat of righteous wrath has given me an attack of bleeding heart.

I am despatching an Imperial telegram to the President of the Oxford University Boat Club to say that when My armies reach that city I may possibly spare Oriel for the sake of My Rhodes Scholars. This generous thought occurred to Me in church when I was returning thanks for the demolition of the library of Louvain.

I have also instructed My intrepid aviators to reserve a pew for Me intact among the ruins of Notre Dame de Paris—for thanksgiving purposes.

I have repeatedly warned Nicholas that God is against him. It is like his impious self-assurance to imagine that One whose services I have exclusively secured for My side could for a moment entertain the idea of supporting My enemies. I confess, however, that I had expected Franz-Josef, as My ally, to receive a larger portion of the Deity's favour than has so far fallen to him. From what I hear of the Lemberg affair, it looks as if his independent arrangements for Divine support had been inadequate. I am afraid I must leave him to get on without it as best he can. I shall want all I've got for my own use.

I see that a new Pope has been elected at Rome. At any ordinary moment this world-event must have attracted the attention of Heaven. But the present attitude of Italy towards the Triple Alliance naturally precludes any Divine cognisance of her concerns. On the other hand I have Myself thought it expedient to address congratulations to the Italian who now occupies the Pontifical Chair, and have ordered the fact to receive due publicity as part of My subsidised Press campaign.

In order that the organisers of this campaign may the better persuade neutral countries to accept My version of the justice of Our cause, I have given directions for them to appeal throughout to the God of Truth. We were, as usual, first in the field, and the Father of Lies has a lot of ground to make up.

My dear son Wilhelm tells Me that his own army has a tough proposition in front of it. I sometimes fear that he lacks the unquestioning piety of his Imperial Parent.

I note that services are still permitted to be held in the English church at Dresden, but that no prayers for the success of British arms are allowed. In view of My monopoly of Divine protection I regard this precaution as unnecessary.

Some blundering operator in Berlin has circulated the ridiculous report of a disaster to My army in France. I have ordered the fear of God to be put into him.

Even I cannot be in two places at once, and I am too busy in exchanging felicitations with My Creator in the background of Our western sphere of operations to be able to give My benediction in person to the brave defenders of My beloved Prussia. My lack of the gift of omnipresence has always been rather a sore point with Me in My otherwise co-equal relations with the Almighty. I hope in course of time to have this corrected.

O. S.

THE NEW NOAH'S ARK;

Or, a Word to the Children of England on the Importance of Sea-power.

[As a part of our campaign to capture Germany's trade, it has been suggested that Noah's Arks should in future be made in this country.]

Remove yon odious concern

That once outrode the mimic storm,

And deep in darkest shelves intern

Her captain and his pirate swarm:

Sweep, sweep, that Dreadnought from the seas

Of England's carpets, if you please,

And set no more by two and two

On Sabbath days her bestial crew,

That mask with peace the Prussian uniform.

I seem to see the War-Lord's lace

Bedeck that bosom mild and stout;

Athwart yon patriarchal face

The Kaiser-like moustaches sprout;

The wideawake becomes a helm,

The staff a sword to overwhelm,

Hypocrisy stands writ and cant

On yonder pale-blue elephant

Tusk-less (Maud did it when Mamma was out).

What makes he with a lilac dove

This Corsair desperate and daft?

Behold the conning tower above

The big stern chasers pointing aft!

This is not he that saved mankind

With pards and pigs from tempests blind,

But rather he that forged a flood,

And not of water but of blood,

And filled with worse than wolves his impious craft.

But come, we'll build a larger boat

Of English breed, no Teuton shams,

Where sheltered animals shall float,

The lion couchant with the lambs:

See from the cabin's open door

What mild-faced dromedaries pour!

What Shems are these? what host arrives

Of gentler Japhets with their wives?

What antelopes? what un-Westphalian Hams?

And sometimes, should the pageant cloy,

Supposing Nurse has left the room,

We'll take again that outcast toy

From the deep cupboard's inmost gloom;

We'll shell that buccaneering barque

With the good guns of England's ark;

We'll chase it flying like a rat

For some fort-guarded Ararat,

And leave it flotsam for Jemima's broom.

Evoe.

Peace: Old and New Style.

Now that the Allies have all agreed not to make separate peaces, we can look forward to the War stopping all at once, and not just a bit at a time, though of course the calendar of the Russians will allow them the option of keeping at it for twelve days after the others have finished.

"Glorious Compeagne.—For ever memorable in the annals of the country will be the name of Compeigne."—News of the World.

Nor shall Compiègne, we hope, be utterly forgotten.

MADE IN GERMANY.

Kaiser. "I'M NOT QUITE SATISFIED WITH THE SWORD. PERHAPS, AFTER ALL, THE PEN IS MIGHTIER!"

Belated Reveller. "You A Speshul Conshtable?"

Special Constable. "Yes." (Long pause.)

B. R. "What arms 'ave yer?"

S. C. "A truncheon and a whistle, and (suddenly inventive, in view of reveller's superior physique) A SIX-SHOOTER."

B. R. "Ah, well, I'm not takin' any fortreshes to-night."

DISPOSITIONS.

My wife was certainly ruffled, and, more than that, she was mystified. She could not understand it at all.

"And this is the second time," she said.

"Have you questioned the servants?" I asked.

"It is not likely that my servants would amuse themselves by throwing lumps of coal on the drawing-room carpet," she replied, "not being lunatics. But as a matter of fact I have questioned them."

"It is the sort of thing a playful kitten might do," I suggested. "Or a puppy perhaps."

"No, they couldn't have lifted the tongs, and the tongs were in it too, and three walking-sticks. It must have been children, I suppose; but I don't think there have been any children in the house."

I found her the same afternoon studying some scratched hieroglyphics on the gravel in front of the house. It was quite an elaborate design with squares and circles and curving lines, and with a wobbly streak running through it. And that evening she announced once and for all that the house was bewitched and she gave it up. She had found a loofah, two sponges and some cakes of soap elaborately arranged in a pattern on the bathroom floor.

She had not yet gathered, as I had, that it was Sinclair and the Reverend Henry. I do not think that these two can have been properly trained in their youth to put away their toys when they had finished with them, as all tidy children should. They had no right to go out suddenly and play tennis, leaving the drawing-room carpet in that condition.

I had seen it coming on for some days. As soon as Henry has spent his first half-hour on the newspapers he is ripe to explain in detail the exact disposition of the Allied forces and "what they are evidently driving at." And the thing is getting very complicated. He cannot make you understand. He tries to draw maps on the back of envelopes, but his drawing is pitiable, and then naturally he reaches out at any object that happens to be lying on the table, planks it down for Paris or Verdun, and gets seriously to work. He and Sinclair were sitting before the unlit fire in the drawing-room when Sinclair put forth his brilliant hypothesis about a flanking movement on Von Klück's right. Henry was quite certain it was wrong. He was down on his knees in a moment grabbing pieces of coal.

"Look here," he said. "There's Châlons; and that shovel is Soissons. You must not forget that the Ardennes lie in behind here"—realistically represented by a heap of logs from the wood-basket—"and that is the Meuse. Of course it isn't quite so straight as that really"—he put the poker in position—"but that is the line of it. Very well. Can't you see that what he is at is to nip this force here between two fires? By Jove, the tongs will do splendidly for that. Might have been made for it. So. Well, if Joffre is any good—Stop a bit"—he filled both hands with coal—"move your chair back. There, that's Paris, and the edge of the fender is the Marne. Well, if Joffre is not asleep his game is obviously——"

"Stop a bit," said Sinclair. "You've left out the Crown Prince."

"No, I haven't. That's him there in the work-basket. And you must remember that there are Uhlans all over the place." (I think that it must have been the Uhlans that chiefly exacerbated my wife when she came to clear up. They did reach pretty far afield, and there was quite a lot of them under the sofa.) "This is the Allied front"—Sinclair had brought him several walking-sticks by this time. "Now suppose we were to swing round like this—I say, do move your chair. Like this. Confound it, I didn't notice that little table was in the way. Why do people put silly little vases of flowers on tables? Mop it up, will you? Of course French is here. You must keep your eye on French. But——"

"What about these lines of communication?"

Henry paused. "Well, there's always the Belgians. I'm afraid we'll have to move the piano. Just give it a heave at the other end, will you? That'll do. Those pianola records are just the thing. No, not so near together. So. Now you see how it works. The whole thing from here to here moves sideways."

"Stop a bit," says Sinclair. "You're moving Paris sideways. Whatever they may do to it when it falls—if it ever does—I don't think they'll move it sideways."

Now that the Reverend Henry is no longer permitted to play with coals in the drawing-room or make maps on the gravel he has found an outlet on the breakfast-table. But he is not allowed to start till after the meal is over, ever since he got down early one morning and had the whole place laid out in army corps and fortresses, with a horrid tangle of knives and forks, cruet-stands, rolls, egg-cups, plates and coffee-pots, at the point where the main action was going on in the centre.

But he is not at all satisfied with the breakfast-table. He has to crowd things terribly close together at one end in order to have room for the Eastern theatre; and Posen (a toast-rack) keeps falling off the edge.

The Kirkintilloch Herald describes the manœuvres of a submarine thus:—

"Without its presence being detected, it approached within a few hundred yards of a German Dreadnought, at which it discharged two torpedoes. In order to escape attack the submarine was then obliged to sing."

Suggested song: "Get out and Get under."

"We will overhaul the chassis ... if you let us undertake the work now. The War will probably be over by the time the Car is ready for use."—Advt.

We cannot decide whether this is an example of Commercial pessimism or Military optimism.

"Mrs. Smithers, if you are unpatriotic enough to hoard your foodstuff, that is a matter for your own conscience; but please remember in future not to give me a hoarded egg for breakfast."

THE PACIFICIST.

The Pacificist was very worried about it all. In the first place it worried him (quite honestly) that his country should ever go to war at all. In the second place it vexed him profoundly that the war should be against an enemy whose pure-souled benevolence he himself had proclaimed and written about for years. Most of all, perhaps, was he secretly irritated that these untoward events should coincide with the beginning of his own annual holiday at Shrimpborough.

A few mornings after war was declared, the conductor of the Shrimpborough orchestra (a genius of cosmopolitan extraction) rose nobly to the occasion. From his demeanour and a certain flurry amongst the musicians, the Pacificist, seated prominently in the two-penny chairs, had about three minutes' warning of what was coming, so that when the conductor swung round with uplifted baton, and the audience, thrilled but a little self-conscious, climbed to its collective feet as the band crashed into the opening bars of the Marseillaise, the Pacificist had already decided upon his conduct. He sat still, even for a few moments he feigned to be absorbed in his favourite newspaper, but almost immediately gave this up as unconvincing and remained staring straight before him.

It was perhaps not a very impressive protest. It was obviously, under the special circumstances of the case (which need not detain us), an entirely foolish and mistaken one. But he made it. He alone in that audience of several hundreds did not rise. A little to his secret disappointment the hundreds made no apparent counter-demonstration. An enthusiastic humming rose from them, mingled with a few easy French words happily introduced when occasion seemed to serve. They were far too preoccupied to trouble about the Pacificist. He had been prepared for every kind of martyrdom, for abuse, hustling, even for blows. All he got was a few looks of embarrassed concern from his immediate neighbours.

To his excited imagination the tune seemed to go on and on for hours. As a matter of fact the genius of cosmopolitan extraction (who had not been extracted quite far enough to be sure of British tastes) gave the audience four verses where one would have been better. And all this time the anger of the Pacificist grew. His cheeks burned, and the excited pounding of his heart was like to stifle him. He knew himself one, alone, against hundreds; impressing them, no doubt (despite their pretence of indifference), with the courage of a right cause. To face odds like that! It was intoxicating.

At last he could bear it no longer. Just as the band ceased and the rest of the audience subsided again to their morning papers, the Pacificist rose. He walked a little unsteadily. The light of battle flashed from his eyes, meeting and beating down what he took, erroneously, to be the glare of a hostile mob. (As a matter of fact no one noticed him any more). Stumbling, white-faced, with set lips and the face of a visionary, he gained the turnstile. This, this, was victory! One against so many! He had proved himself. He had conquered!

The battle-spirit—for, despite his honest conviction, his forebears had been soldiers and sea-dogs—surged up within him. How splendid it was, this fighting down opposition! What was life, after all, but a fight? He had never realized that before. But now he knew. The flame that burnt in his blood demanded other foes, other worlds to conquer. It had become an urgent need with him to continue fighting; almost anyone would do.

Immediately opposite to the turnstile was the open door of a large building; flags surmounted it, and at each side was a large proclamation in red and white. With shoulders squared, flashing eye, and the demeanour of Napoleon at the head of the Old Guard, the Pacificist entered the recruiting office. "I have come," he said fiercely, "to enlist!"

SUPER-SYMPATHY.

"The crumbling towers, the shattered fanes,

The havoc of the Belgian plains;

Dead mothers, children, priests and nuns,

Who fall before My conquering Huns—

Believe Me, friends, these grievous woes

Deprive Me of My due repose,

And, though enforced by higher need,

Make My Imperial bosom bleed."

As the fat spider wipes its eye

Over each strangulated fly;

As Abdul Hamid once was fain

To weep for the Armenian slain;

As Haynau felt his eyelids drip

When women cowered beneath his whip;

As Torquemada doubtless bled

With sorrow for the tortured dead—

So in his own peculiar style

Weeps the Imperial Crocodile.

THE IMPERIAL PRUSSIAN COLLEGE OF CULTURE.

Telegrams: "Kultur, Berlin."

Principal Dr. von Hackheim, assisted by a large staff of University Professors.

Brutality is acknowledged by the most distinguished Teutonic psychologists to have an important place in modern warfare, as serving to maintain a properly submissive attitude on the part of the unarmed enemy, and the College has been established to complete this side in the training of cadets for the Imperial German field army.

Training by Gramophone.

Many difficulties have had to be surmounted. For instance it was found that, in spite of training students, proceeding to the front showed hesitation in the execution of non-combatants, and grew pale on first hearing the cries of women and children. This difficulty is being obviated by means of gramophone records taken in Belgium, which serve to inure the novice to the sounds of anguish. By the time he proceeds to the front no cries for mercy have any power to move him.

Literæ Inhumaniores.

The curriculum is extensive. In addition to regular musketry practice at moving and stationary Red Cross waggons, hospital bomb drill, etc., courses of lectures are being given by thinkers of the first eminence. Some of the most celebrated names on the contemporary record of German culture are to be found in our staff list. During the coming term, for instance, Dr. Junker, of the Bernhardi School of Philosophy, will give a series of discourses on "The Evolution of the Doctrine of Blood and Iron," "Infantile Mortality and its Promotion," "Philosophic Doubts regarding the Value of Mercy," illustrated by photographs taken in Louvain; and a course of lectures on "The Debt of Art to Atrocity" will be delivered by Professor Blutwurst, who occupies the Attila Chair of Anatomy in the University of Leipzig.

Recreation.

The proper recreation of students is not neglected and sports are encouraged. Paper chases are held frequently, the paper torn up for the trail being provided by the courtesy of the Foreign Office, who supply the College with all treaties found upon their shelves.

Records in Brutality.

The Principal desires it to be known that he will always be glad to hear from past students now serving with the Imperial Forces who have performed any notable act of inhumanity towards non-combatants.

Teutonic Barber. "Shafe, Sir?"

Customer. "Ye-es—— That is, no!——I think I'll try a hair-cut.">[

THE OUTPOST.

The lurid sunset's slanting rays

Incarnadine the soldier's deed;

His rugged countenance betrays

The bulldog breed.

Not his to shun the stubborn fight,

The combat against heavy odds,

Alone, unaided—'tis a sight

For men and gods!

And now his back is bowed and bent,

Now crouching, now erect, he stands,

And now the red life blood is sprent

From both his hands.

He takes his punishment on trust,

As one who sees and yet is blind,

For every lacerating thrust

Comes from behind.

The twilight creeps, the sun has gone,

But triumph fills the soldier's breast;

He's sewn his back brace-buttons on

While fully dressed!

JAMES FEELS BETTER.

The Sergeant-Major was speaking.

"Company—'SHUN!"

We 'shunned. We stood motionless (all but one of us) waiting for his next words. Then he spoke again.

"Blank blanket," he yelled, "what the blank are you doing?" He was looking at me, and my heart was in my mouth. "Blanket," he went on, "if you want to scratch your nose, step out here and scratch it. My blank!" My heart dropped back again. He must be talking to James behind me. I longed to look round and watch the generous waves of colour stealing over James's classic features, to fix with a reproachful eye that Roman proboscis which he had been grooming; but duty, or natural integrity of character, or fear of the Sergeant-Major, or something, held me fast.

"Company—dis-MISS!"

We turned to the right and I took James affectionately by the arm. "How's the neb?" I said.

And then James told me what he thought of the Sergeant-Major.

"Pretty good rot," he said, "talking like that to a man in my position. Cursing a married man with a family as if he were a rotten schoolboy. If I met him in ordinary life he'd say 'Sir' to me—probably ask me for a job, and go about in a holy fear that I was going to sack him."

"Discipline, James," I said. "Think how good it is for you to be ordered about for a change. And think how jolly it must be for the Sergeant-Major to swear at well-known public men. Don't grudge him his little bit of pleasure. And finally, think how stimulating it is for the rest of us. I assure you, James, there's nothing more bracing to a man than to hear another man being cursed."

James muttered to himself. We lit our pipes and sat down among some other members of our platoon. James was silent, but we others talked eagerly about the difference between "Right form" and "On the right form company," and other matters which had suddenly become of great importance.

"Let's go and have a little private drill," said one of the keen ones.

"It'll only turn into a rag," I said.

"But of course we shall have to agree to take it seriously and obey orders. Who'll come?"

About ten of us offered ourselves. I looked at James; to my surprise he jumped up quickly. We went off to a corner of the field, and lined up two deep.

"And now who'll drill us?" said James.

We all hung back nervously. To obey an order as one of ten is so much easier than to give an order as one of one.

"I will, if you like," said James doubtfully, "but I'm not sure if——"

"Go on," we all said; "have a try."

James stepped out of the ranks and faced us.

"Cover off, there," he said briskly. "Squad—'shun!" We were five files, and I was No. 3 in the front rank. "Stand at—ease ... Number Three, what the blank are you smoking for? Number Three—the stout one in the front rank. Put that pipe away, Private Haldane. Blanket, Sir, this isn't a Cabinet meeting; you're drilling."

"Steady, James, old man," I said.

"Silence in the ranks! Two days cells for Private Haldane—both of them week-days. 'Shun! Number!... Form fours!"

We formed fours. Of course it is absurdly easy, even with an odd number of files, but it is also absurdly easy to forget.

"As you were!" shouted James. "The last file is always an even number. Surely you ought to know that by this time, Private Kitchener. The fourth file—Private Asquith and Private Tree, chest out, Private Tree—the fourth file stands fast. 'Form fours! Right turn! Form two deep! 'Bout turn! Form fours! I thought so; Private Tree is wrong again. Silence, Private Haldane! Private Haldane will be shot at dawn to-morrow. Private Tree will be shot at dawn on the day after, this giving him time to prepare his farewell speech. Right turn! Where are you, Private Carson? Try and remember that you're not reviewing troops just now; you're attempting to decide as quickly as possible which is your right hand and which is your left. You'll find it a much harder job. The Army Corps will advance. By the right, quick march! Step out, Private Tich, my lad, step out."

James was now thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Left incline! Theirs not to reason why, Private Kipling; if I had meant 'right incline, and stop at the canteen,' I should have said so.... Tut-tut, Private Tree, 'left incline' doesn't mean 'advance like a crab'.... Right incline! And now where are you, Private Masterman? Left behind again. Halt! Dress up by the right. Blanket, Private Haldane, you're still talking. Private Haldane will be blown from the guns at dusk. As you were. It's no good taking half measures with Private Haldane; kindness is wasted on him. Private Haldane will be stopped jam for tea this afternoon."

And then a smile came over James's face. He repressed it, drew himself up, and surveyed us sternly.

"Squad, 'shun! Scratch—noses!"

"Thank you, I feel much better," said James.

A. A. M.

DISCOVERERS' RIGHTS.

Dear Mr. Punch,—Unless the blackberrying season is to be utterly ruined and thousands of homes thus rendered poisonously unhappy, something must be done to make people play the game.

Why is it that this simple little fruit should have such a bad influence on otherwise nice persons? But it has. It makes them utterly selfish and inconsiderate.

Take our experience last week on the Common. We went out with baskets—three of us—Elsa, Dolores, and me, and, after hunting about for some time and getting fearfully scratched, we came upon a perfectly priceless group of bushes which no one had discovered.

The blackberries were there in millions, ripe too, and all sparkling in that patent-leather way which makes the mouth water and prevents as many getting into the basket as ought to. We were of course fearfully bucked by finding such a spot, and began at once in earnest. Judge then of our dismay when another party of blackberriers, attracted, I imagine, by our cries of rapture, came up and began picking too! These were the two Misses Blank, whom we know very slightly. They ought, of course, to have gone right away and done their own discovering. Instead of that they just nodded, and then snatched away at our bushes as though they were in their own garden. One of them even came up to a bush on which Elsa was engaged. What was she to do? She could not remonstrate, as we knew them so slightly, so she abandoned the bush with a gesture of contempt which should have made a dummy blush, but had no effect whatever on these thick-skinned Prussians, as we now believe they must be. Probably their real name is Fressen, Elsa thinks.

Common decency (I don't mean this for a joke, but I suppose it is one) should prevent anybody from going to a place discovered by somebody else; and why I write is to ask you if there is not an unwritten law against such conduct, and if so will you make it widely known?

It would be dreadful if all the blackberrying parties during this September and October were to be ruined by people like the Misses Fressen.

I am, Yours faithfully,
Fair Play.

BY REQUEST.

Visitor (to Percy of "The Mauve Merriments"). "What would you charge to sing 'It's a long way to Tipperary' into auntie's ear-trumpet?"

THE GREAT CAMPAIGN.

The formal declaration of war (altogether unexpected by the best minds of the community, though the opposing armies had been mobilised for a month previously), came like a bolt from the blue on September 1st. In an instant the whole country was engaged in sanguinary conflict. We give with reserve the following reports which have reached us from our correspondents at the front:—

Civilians in the Battle Line.

On the north-eastern frontier a keen encounter occurred between the famous Albion South End Corps and an invading division of the redoubtable Cockspur troops. Fifteen thousand spectators from posts of vantage round the field witnessed the fearful onslaught of the enemy. Civilians were so moved by the imminent peril of the home troops that, arming themselves with stones and bottles, and shouting "——" (excised by Censor), they flung themselves on the wings of the invading army and utterly routed them. It is rumoured that the Cockspurs contemplate reprisals. In the event of the South End Corps invading their country it is believed that all civilians will fight to the death against the invader.

The Old British Spirit.

Thrilling scenes were witnessed at the opening of the Ealham Thursday campaign. A huge crowd, thirsting for a sight of the conflict, gathered in the confines of the battlefield. A force of blue-clad mercenaries held them in check for a time. But thirty thousand volunteers are worth more than a hundred paid men. With magnificent unanimity the Britons formed in column. The dense black mass pressed forward. For a moment the conflict was fearful. Then the thin blue line of the mercenaries gave way and they fled in disgraceful rout. A moment later thirty thousand unconquerable Britons, laden with booty from the pay-boxes, stood triumphant on the shilling reserved mound. That wonderful charge had captured the position.

Outrages on Non-combatants.

We record with deep regret a violation of the laws of war by the General of the Shatterham Wanderers army. In the heat of the combat with the Notts Strollers brigade he ignored the whistled appeal for an armistice to pick up the wounded. Proceeding steadily he fired a deadly shot into the enemy's fortifications. A neutral officer, under the protection of the Red Cross, courageously protested against this infamy. In an excess of military fury the General smote the neutral officer to the earth. It is believed that, unless the offending General be instantly submitted to a regular court-martial, the Shatterham Wanderers' army will be solemnly declared outside the pale of humanity. (Note.—The Censor allows the foregoing account to be printed but disclaims all responsibility for its correctness.)