PUNCH,

OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOL. 150

June 14, 1916

CHARIVARIA.

The German Imperial Chancellor's Reichstag speech with regard to the Battle of Jutland was, according to The Daily Mail, delivered with "an eye on Washington." Not George, of course.

According to the German official announcement, the sinking of the Lützow was concealed for "military reasons." It is only reasonable to assume that other and larger prevarications concerning the North Sea battle may be ascribed to "naval reasons."

A remarkable omission from the German account of the Naval battle off Jutland is observed. There is no mention of the destruction of H.M.S. Blockade.

According to the Croydon Public Library Committee, "readers are turning to Thackeray, Dickens, George Eliot and Jane Austen for relief from war worry." This authoritative statement will come as a great shock to Mr. Balfour, who appears to have been under the impression that Winston Churchill was the popular author of the moment.

Under the heading, "Fish-shaped Zeppelin," The Daily Mail, quoting the Zurich correspondent of the Nieuwe Courant, describes a monster supposed to have been recently launched by the Germans, which fires an aerial torpedo weighing 420 lbs. a distance of nine miles. We ourselves would have preferred the heading, "Fish-shaped Story."

An A.B., fresh from the Naval fight, had read a statement in the Press that the Kaiser had given three Hochs! for his Navy. "Well, I don't give a Dam for it!" said the British tar.

The President of the Republic of San Domingo has resigned, "to save the State from armed American intervention." We fear that somebody has been pulling the gentleman's leg.

The Pall Mall Gazette on the Jumble Sale at the Caledonian Market: "But there were bargains for everybody, whether it was an elephant or a daintily bejewelled carrier, a Paris hat or a three-year-old, or a motor-car, or an elephant." One of the lady helpers, discovering at the last moment that she had a duplicate elephant, appears to have brought it along just in time to catch our contemporary before it went to press.

In connection with the occupation of Fort Rupel by the Bulgarians it is announced that General Sarrail is taking the "necessary steps." Yet we cannot be blind to the fact that it would have been better to have forestalled the enemy and taken the necessary front-door.

At a meeting of the Church Reading Union at Sion College, Sir Francis Fox, J.P., said that a boy who was arrested for setting fire to a church had told him that he "had seen it on the cinematograph." This statement has drawn a spirited protest from a number of our leading film manufacturers, who point out that the thing could not possibly have happened, as in all their dramas they have always made it a rule never to burn anything less expensive than a cathedral.

An advertisement from The Times: "Very stout gentleman, ineligible Army, requires permanent engagement to act for Cinema. Had some experience in comedy pictures; fatter than any other movey actor; weight 22 stone; exceptional opportunity for British producers, but willing go abroad." What about an exchange, on a weight basis, with America, who might send us Sir Herbert Tree and Charlie Chaplin?

At the Bow County Court a man who was questioned regarding his occupation said that he was a tinsmith, a carrier, a job-buyer, a milkman and a general dealer; that he was training about 120 carrier-pigeons for the Government and also did a bit of prize-fighting. There the matter seems to have ended, but one cannot help thinking that a really expert cross-examiner would not have let him go without finding out what he did in his spare time.

Reports from all the agricultural districts refer in glowing terms to the cheerful manner in which women workers on the farms are carrying on their duties. We are, however, informed that in one district a woman voluntary worker was heard to express the opinion that she would be more keen upon her part of the work if the ground were not so horribly far down.

The popularity of police passes is due to the fact that they can often be kept and used as a testimonial to character. Thus a well-known Irishman of county family, on applying for a pass to England, received the following: "Mr. —— is known to all the police of the county, and they consider him a fit man to leave Ireland."

Member of the Royal Flying Corps (first day out of hospital). "Speed up, man—speed up!"

The Decline of Chivalry.

"The Minister for Lands, the Minister for Agriculture, and the Under-Secretary for Agriculture paid a visit to the old Zoo at Moore Park, and decided to adopt the suggestion that it be utilised as a horticultural college for women students. It is expected the animals will take up their new quarters by July next."—Australian Paper.

Headline to an account of German outrages in the Baltic:—

"Hens Annoying Swedes."

Rand Daily Mail.

This quite takes us back to the Lloyd George of the old days.

"Sweet maid (experienced) for restaurant."

Scottish Paper.

We hope she knows her Kingsley:—"Be good, sweet maid."

A New Gas Attack?

"With whatever object, offensive or defensive, the German General Staff is concentrating all Eggs Sevenpence Each."

Glasgow Evening Times.

"Kind Motherly Person wanted urgently to mind baby girl during day; easy distance from Reservoir:."—Auckland Star.

So, if the child becomes too troublesome——

To the Memory

of

Field-Marshal Earl Kitchener.

Born June 24th, 1850. Died on Service June 5th, 1916.

Soldier of England, you who served her well

And in that service, silent and apart,

Achieved a name that never lost its spell

Over your country's heart;—

Who saw your work accomplished ere at length

Shadows of evening fell, and creeping Time

Had bent your stature or resolved the strength

That kept its manhood's prime;—

Great was your life, and great the end you made,

As through the plunging seas that whelmed your head

Your spirit passed, unconquered, unafraid,

To join the gallant dead.

But not by death that spell could pass away

That fixed our gaze upon the far-off goal,

Who, by your magic, stand in arms to-day

A nation one and whole,

Now doubly pledged to bring your vision true

Of darkness vanquished and the dawn set free

In that full triumph which your faith foreknew

But might not live to see. O. S.

HEART-TO-HEART TALKS.

(Herr von Bethmann-Hollweg and Frau von Bethmann-Hollweg.)

She. You are late again, Theobald. How often must I——

He. Oh, please do not worry me, my dear Martha. After what I have been forced to go through it is a wonder that I am here at all.

She. What—have you been seeing him again? I thought he was away with one of the armies and you would be having a holiday.

He. So did I think; but it was not to be. Holiday, indeed! When do I ever get even a moment in which to think my own thoughts?

She. At any rate I hope he acknowledged what Germany owes to you. Where would he have been, I wonder, if it had not been for your constant devotion to his service throughout this terrible time? Does he realise what that has meant for him and his?

He. Kaisers never realise anything. That's my experience of one of them, at any rate. If you flatter them they smile on you and take all the credit of your work. But I am not cut out of that sort of wood, and the result is that he looks at me as if he had bitten into a lemon by mistake. You know that look, don't you?

She. Yes, my poor Theobald, I know that look. It makes everything black and uncomfortable. But if he is like that and does not consider your feelings, why do you continue to serve him? You should assert yourself, and if he does not improve you should send in your resignation. After all there are better things in the world than to be Chancellor to a man who does not appreciate your work.

He. Of course I have thought of that, but I have put the idea aside. If I were to resign now it would only give joy to my enemies, and they are the last people in the world to whom I wish to give joy. He won't get rid of me just yet, for he finds me too useful as a lightning-conductor. Still, I know that some day he'll give me a push by sending me a letter condoling with me on the state of my health, and then good-bye to the office of Chancellor.

She. And, for my part, Theobald, I hope that time will come soon, though I shudder to think what will become of the country when you go. However, we won't talk of that any more. Tell me rather what he has been saying to you to-day.

He. Oh, to-day he was displeased with my speech in the Reichstag.

She. Displeased with that beautiful speech so sun-clear and patriotic! Why, the man must be mad. Never in all my life have I read anything so patriotic and convincing. What does he complain of?

He. What does he not complain of? First, he is angry that I defend myself against attacks made in an anonymous pamphlet.

She. Then I am sure he wrote it himself or inspired it.

He. I have not the evidence to prove that, but it is, of course, possible. It would be just like him to play me a trick like that. But what chiefly provoked his anger was what I said about the naval battle.

She. Yes, I remember you said that England was not thereby defeated. If you will pardon me, Theobald, I myself thought that this was a rash statement.

He. So you're going to turn against me too, are you? It was a true statement, whatever he or you may say. They lost ships, yes, and we lost ships too, and we can afford to lose ships much less that the English can. What is the use of pretending that we've won the War and beaten down England because our sailors shot straight and fought bravely? So did the English, and they've got more ships left than we have, more's the pity.

She. But he has made a glorification speech about it, hasn't he?

He. Yes, he has. In another day or two he will have worked himself up to the point of believing that he commanded our ships in the battle. I know him; but he needn't think I'm going to encourage him in this laughable pretension.

She. Do not think about him any more, but go to bed and have a good sleep.

He. I will try, but the telephone will ring, I am sure, and he will command me to come and see him. (The telephone rings.) There, I told you so.

Is it true that the Kaiser intends to confer upon Admiral von Scheer the title of Baron von Sheer-off?

Our Classicists.

"Another relic was a torpedo propeller. 'It came from a German submarine that got into an awkward place rather foolishly—but de mortibus, and the rest of it.'"—Provincial Paper.

Never mind about the rest of it. "De mortibus" is enough, thank you.

"Deep down in the ship I came across a strange sight. Some twenty or thirty boys, seated at desks, were being taught the mysteries of compound fractures by a petty officer."—Liverpool Daily Post.

As a preliminary to teaching the German Fleet the art of recurring decimation?

"Private Willie——has returned from France looking extremely robust and well. He will, I understand, enter for a course of instruction at Baal College, Oxford, before proceeding again to the front."—Irish Paper.

As this new foundation, originally intended no doubt for the German Rhodes Scholars, has apparently been diverted to better use, the authorities might now alter the name.

UNCONSCIOUS CANDOUR.

German Father. "Can't we see our victorious fleet?"

Official. "No, you can't. Nobody can!"

OUR WAR PHOTOGRAPHER ON THE CORNISH RIVIERA.

The Salonika Sentry.

Voice from the house. "If you keep your father out too long he'll be catching another nasty cold."

ON THE SPY TRAIL.

The milkman told Jimmy that the Kaiser was like a gambler who had mortgaged his resources up to bursting point, and now with every tooth drawn was chewing the bitter dregs of remorse to the bone. The milkman says these things come to him whilst he is milking, and the reason is that when he presses his head to the cow's side the heat of the cow thaws the blood in his brain for a time.

He told Jimmy that he could make a speech with anybody when he had got his brain like that, and that he thought of addressing meetings, but that the cow would be uneasy on a public platform.

Then he looked round to see where Jimmy's bloodhound, Faithful, was. You see Faithful sometimes makes the milkman's horse try to get into the milk-cart and hide its head under the seat, you know, like an ostrich in the dreary desert when it is pursued by its enemies. But Faithful was chained up for the sake of the deaf-and-dumb woman who comes round once a fortnight. The deaf-and-dumb woman has a blind husband, who squeezes a concertina whilst she shakes some coppers in a tin cup at you. Jimmy's mother always gives her sixpence.

Jimmy says bloodhounds don't like coppers jumping about in tin cups; it makes them harbour resentment, and then you have to show people where the piece came out of your dress. The milkman told Jimmy that he had met the deaf-and-dumb woman that morning. She was all by herself in one of his fields, practising "Where is my wandering boy to-night" Her husband had enlisted, that was why, and she had sold the business. Jimmy wanted to see the woman, but she never came past, so he went down to the railway-station with Faithful to see if she were there. But there was only a man with a parcel under his arm looking about for a train.

Jimmy says that people often go to the station like that, just to see if there is a train in it; they want to use up their return tickets, Jimmy says. But there is only the porter to look at, Jimmy says. The man seemed to think the porter was hiding the trains somewhere, and asked him for a Bradshaw. Jimmy says the porter scratched his head so hard that Jimmy thought he would get a splinter in his finger, you know, like they tell you at school, and then he fetched the man a bradawl. "Didn't he ask me for a gimlet and didn't I bring him one?" the porter appealed to Jimmy.

Jimmy says the man was very rude to the porter; he said things you have to be sorry about when you have time to think them over. Jimmy says the man actually made the porter unlock the waiting-room door and throw open the window, although the porter told him that he had a hen sitting on some eggs there.

The man seemed very restless, Jimmy says, because he didn't stay long in the waiting-room. You see Jimmy's bloodhound wanted to see what the hen smelt like, and how it was getting on; but the hen was not quite herself that day, and would keep on flying about the waiting-room at Faithful, just to try and vex him.

Jimmy says Faithful did his best to get the hen to go back and be busy sitting on eggs again, but she wouldn't listen to reason.

Jimmy says the man tried to throw the waiting-room at Faithful and the hen, so Faithful came out through the window, until the furniture had settled down. Bloodhounds are like that, Jimmy says, they avoid a disturbance; Faithful is a very good avoider, Jimmy says.

Jimmy says he thinks one of eggs must have been addled, and come undone in the excitement of the moment, by what the man said. He didn't seem to like addled eggs much, Jimmy says, and he called Faithful an animal.

There was a luggage train due, and Jimmy thought he would just see it come in and then take Faithful away, when on looking round he saw that his bloodhound had suddenly thrown himself on the Spy trail. He kept sniffing at the parcel the man had placed on the seat, and then sniffed hard at the man; after that he sat down and scratched himself whilst he compared the sniffs. Jimmy says it is splendid to see a prize bloodhound sifting evidence like that; Faithful is a very good sifter, Jimmy says.

Jimmy says the man picked up the parcel and put it under his arm; you could see he was anxious by the way he kept one foot drawn back at the ready. But Jimmy knows all about parcels under people's arms; you do it with a fishing-line, and it is a surprise to cure people when they have got the hiccough.

What you have to do is to get the fishing-line ready, and when the train comes in to the station you tie one end of the line to one of the railway trucks, and then, if you are lucky, you manage to hook the other end through the string of the parcel.

Jimmy says that when you see the parcel you are carrying suddenly jump from under your arm and go bumping along after the train as it goes out of the station, you forget to hiccough.

You can do it with buns in refreshment rooms or with the green baize on bookstalls—it only depends on who has got the hiccough, Jimmy says.

Jimmy says the man hadn't got the hiccough, but he was very surprised to see his parcel start chasing the luggage train; it was because of its activity, Jimmy says. Jimmy was on the bridge watching. Jimmy says the parcel gave a squeak every time it bumped, and Faithful followed the squeak all down the platform, and when the parcel burst he hurled himself at it.

It was the blind man's concertina! and when Jimmy saw Faithful emerge with the deaf-and-dumb label which the woman used to wear he ran for a policeman as hard as he could.

The man wanted the policeman to take Jimmy in charge for destroying his property, Jimmy says. He explained to the policeman about the concertina; he said he had bought it from a woman who did not know its value, and that it was a genuine "Strad."

Jimmy says the policeman might have let the man off if it hadn't been for the porter. You see when the man's parcel was bumping along after the train, the man opened his mouth so wide that some German words fell out, and the porter had heard them. The porter knows German, Jimmy says; he learned it before the War began from a German whose luggage he had put into the wrong train.

When the German spy was searched it was found that he hadn't much money, and the policeman said he must have bought the concertina and label to try to get people to give him money and so work his way to the coast.

It turned out afterwards that he had escaped from a concentrated camp, Jimmy says. When Jimmy told the milkman about it, the milkman said that it was "Ha, ha, one more feather plucked from the horde of German rats that pollute the air with their diabolical designs."

He was just telling Jimmy that the Kaiser was standing on the brink of a deep abscess, when he heard Jimmy's bloodhound taking his horse home to put it to bed, and this disturbed his flow of thought.

The Mess Bore (innocent of small gunpowder plot). "Depend upon it, Sir, there'll be something happening quite soon now, and nearer than we think for."

A testimonial:—

"I have much pleasure in recommending Mrs. D—— as a very efficient masseuse after breaking my wrist."

It was the least she could do to put it right.

THE SUPER-LUTHERAN CHURCH.

[The Tägliche Rundschau has published an article by Judge von Zastrow, of Berlin, on the Future National Church. It is to unite religion and love of the Fatherland; to reconcile the Sermon on the Mount with war; to make room for Pietists, Materialists, and Laodiceans; and to remove all sectional and sectarian differences. In short, the Church will bathe itself in "the new streams of German power, it will drink from the water which will make our German Will strong and healthy for battle. Our German piety, our German Christianity will assume an heroic colouring, in place of the sentimental tone which has hitherto characterised it.">[

When the fighting is finally over,

And victory smiles on our land,

And we 're living in comfort and clover,

We must take our religion in hand;

We must make it heroic and German,

With "Fatherland-love" as its fount;

We must reconcile War with the Sermon

Once preached on the Mount.

'Twill embrace the disciples of Haeckel's

Monistic material creed,

The Mammonite worship of shekels,

The gospel of hunger and greed;

And the layman, so Laodicean,

No more his devotions will shirk,

But will kneel with the mild Manichean,

The amiable Turk.

In fine, there'll be nothing sectarian

In Germany's National Church;

And the pedants, Pelagian and Arian,

Will be knocked from their petulant perch;

All paltry divisions 'twill level

That tend to enfeeble the Hun,

And the worship of God and the Devil

Will merge into one.

"Miss —— has a sweet voice.... Perhaps her greatest appeal was simplicity and an entire lack of effectiveness."

"Journal," Meriden, Conn.

We have singers just like that in the old country, too.

"Lieutenant —— is reported wounded by the War Office."—Liverpool Daily Post.

He is not the only one who has been hurt by this agency.

"Wanted immediately for Boys' Industrial School (temporarily and possibly permanently), an All-round Tanner."—Natal Mercury.

There is evidently a good deal of leathering to be done.

From Jack London's A Son of the Sun:—

"She had been hung up by one arm in the sun for two days and nights."

Somewhere north of the Arctic Circle, we presume.

UNCHARTED SEAS.

He boarded the 'bus just as it was leaving Piccadilly Circus. "Full ahtside," chanted the conductor, so the A.B. squeezed into a totally inadequate space between a girl of sixteen and an elderly and benevolent-looking lady. Squaring himself forward, he placed a hand like a boxing-glove on either knee and glanced genially up and down the 'bus. He was a large man, dark and hairy, and it was quite easy to associate him with pigtails, tar and cutlasses. After the first impression there came to one a sense of something odd and un-nautical. Then one became suddenly aware that, instead of the regulation Navy cap, he was wearing a rough woollen tam-o'-shanter, which hung coyly over one ear.

A thin man in a top-hat was the first to notice it.

"Still pretty cold in the North Sea?" he ventured, with an eye upon the tam-o'-shanter.

"So I've 'eard," the sailor replied guardedly; "but this 'ere," he touched his headgear, "ain't an Arctic brow-mitten. I got this from a friend, 'avin' lost me own little 'at jest after the second torpedo was fired."

"Gracious!" ejaculated the elderly lady, and the occupants of the 'bus became magnetised to attention.

"Now that's extremely interesting," exclaimed the thin man with a nervous movement of his hand; "could you tell us the name of the ship?"

"Can't say as I can, Sir," was the discouraging reply.

"Of course not, of course not," spluttered a testy old gentleman in white spats; "a very injudicious question in a public conveyance." He glared at the thin man with intention.

"Sort o' fancy name she 'ad," the sailor continued, quite unmoved by this outburst; "fact she was a bit fancy all round."

"Ha! disguised, I presume?" exclaimed the old gentleman, his discretion for a moment overcome.

"Did she float for any length of time after being torpedoed?" The thin man put the question with a legal incisiveness.

"Went to pieces like a paymaster's digestion as soon as the second mouldy got 'er. Most unnatural."

He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand and ruminated on the peculiarity of it.

"I suppose you got dreadfully wet?" the elderly lady asked feelingly.

"Well, Mum," he said gravely, "I wasn't exactly dry. Yer see, after the show sharp squalls set in from the Sou'-west, an' me 'avin' made fast to my mate's bow awnin', I 'adn't no claim to the umbereller. So I did get a bit soused round the superstructure, but not, so to speak, flooded right down to my propeller casins."

"Dear! dear! How truly terrible."

She relapsed into silence convulsively, while the old gentleman wheezed with great ferocity and muttered something about a good answer to a d——d silly question.

"A submarine, of course?" The thin man pursued his examination relentlessly.

"So we presoomed from events which 'appened later."

"Artful them blinkin'—beg pardon, ladies—pirits is," vouchsafed a man of toil from the far end of the 'bus; "my brother wot's——"

"All this occurred at night, I assume?" the old gentleman interrupted snappily.

"Yes, Sir, it was an evenin' performance." He glanced out into the murky night. "Put me down at Sydney Terrace," he said to the conductor.

"Wy, ye're there nah," grumbled that caustic individual as he jerked sharply at the bell-cord.

"Well," exclaimed the thin man as the sailor rose to go, "I congratulate you very heartily on your good luck—very heartily indeed!"

For the first time the hero of the incident seemed to exhibit signs of impatience.

"Good luck!" he repeated sarcastically. "Call it good luck to 'ave your cap pinched out o' the 'arf-dollar seats an' then 'ave to take yer best girl 'ome in this crabbin' chappoo. I'm goin' to see the brass-'atted owner to-morrow, an' if 'e don't pay out I'll wreck the 'ole bloomin' theatre. Good luck, yer call it!" He swung off the foot-board and disappeared into the gloom, muttering incoherently.

* * * * *

"He—he!" tittered the flapper. It was the only audible comment on the situation.

"A War Office statement this afternoon reports another successful operation by Australian and New Zealand mounted troops in Egypt.

At the enemy port of Barsalmana the enemy were compelled to abandon their camp, and were then combed by aeroplane."

Liverpool Echo.

An appropriate sequel to a brush with the Cavalry.

"If you stand the piano out into the room, you will want a cur-choke soup, mayonaise of lamb, macaroni with tomatoes."

Ladies' Paper.

In the interests of the cur it would be more merciful to keep the piano in the corner.

QUESTION AND ANSWER.

I.

"A gentleman seeking information for forthcoming book about the recent developments and inventions in Glass and Pottery manufacture, also Bottle-making, would be pleased to hear from anyone capable of furnishing such information."—The Times.

II.

Dear Sir,—It is very fortunate that I caught sight of your advertisement, for I am just the man you need. You want to know all about bottles and things. I can tell you.

Let us begin with pottery.

Pottery is made in the Five Towns, a district in the Midlands to which references may be found by the industrious, using a microscope, in the works of Mr. Arnold Bennett, the famous Caledonian Market salesman. How it is made I have not room here to indicate, but its effect on those who make it is to fill their lives with romance and excitement. Thus, if they don't become Town Councillors for Hanbridge they join the School Board at Hanley; and if they are not taking the new tram to Burslem they are catching the fast train to Manchester at Knype.

And now for glass.

Glass is an invisible substance made in some mysterious way. It is used for a multiplicity of things, but principally for windows and bottles. It is when used for windows that its special quality of transparency comes in so happily, for it enables you to see through. This, when it is the window of a hat shop and you are out with your wife or fiancée, is not an unmixed blessing, but at other times it can be very convenient. Thus, when looking through the window, oneself being carefully concealed behind the blind, one can see undesirable callers approaching and beat a safe retreat. Windows can also be shut, both in houses and railway carriages, and thus keep the place warm and pleasantly insanitary and comfortable. It has been said that the pure air of many German towns is due to the fact that the Germans keep their windows shut.

Glass is also used for the chimneys of lamps, which, when the wick is turned up too high, as it usually is, break. It is employed furthermore in the manufacture of glass eyes, which, as all who have visited A Kiss for Cinderella know, do not always match the real ones.

But the best thing that glass does is to become bottles. Bottles are of two kinds: one kind for medicine, and the less said about those the better; and the other for wine. It was a happy thought which substituted glass for the skin and leather of which earlier bottles were made, for one can now see, by holding it to the light, how little the bottle contains, and order another. The principal fault of bottles is that they are rarely big enough. A half-bottle does not contain sufficient for one, and a whole bottle rarely satisfies two. Some men are so lost to shame as to set only one bottle of wine before three or even four persons.

Before the War old bottles were used chiefly as targets in rifle saloons. Now that they have become scarce, and targets are made in Germany, they are worth money and should be carefully saved.

Glass is useful also for making glasses—the receptacles from which wine is drunk. Without glasses we should be hard put to it to consume our liquor and should have to resort to half-cocoanuts, cups, the hollow of the hand, or even sponges.

Just at the moment bottles—I mean the more genial variety—are under a cloud. It is a penal offence to sell a bottle before noon, between half-past two and half-past six, and after half-past nine at night. But they are expected to come to their own again when Peace is celebrated.

I think that is all.

Yours, etc.,

First Aid.

Niece. " Hurrah, Auntie! Ted has been made a lance-corporal!"

Auntie. "I do wish Ted would be content with being a soldier, and not go in for these forms of notoriety."

NURSERY RHYMES OF LONDON TOWN.

XIX.—Haymarket.

I went up to the Hay-market upon a summer day,

I went up to the Hay-market to sell a load of hay—

To sell a load of hay and a little bit over,

And I sold it all to a pretty girl for a nosegay of red clover.

A nosegay of red clover and a hollow golden straw;

Now wasn't that a bargain, the best you ever saw?

I whistled on my straw in the market-place all day,

And the London folk came flocking for to foot it in the hay.

XX.—The Angel.

The Angel flew down

One morning to town,

But didn't know where to rest;

For they shut her out of the East End

And they shut her out of the West.

The Angel went on

To Islington,

And there the people were kinder.

If ever you go to Islington

That's where you will find her.

Those who do hold the victory—
Beatty possidentes.

Commercial Candour.

"—— & SON,
Window-Cleaners.
We spare no panes."

Our Optimists.

"As a result of Wednesday's battle the strength of the British Fleet is now greater, not relatively, but absolutely, than it was."

Daily Telegraph.

Ships in Wolff's clothing: the "victorious" German Fleet.

"Villagers here are heartily congratulating Mr. Charles Gibbs on his marvellous escape from the great North Sea Battle, from one of our lost cruisers. He reached home on Sunday, and brings with him a portion of a shell that pierced his cap, and an engine of the vessel tattered in the conflict."—Thame Gazette.

"Some" souvenir.