The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 152, April 25, 1917, by Various This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 152, April 25, 1917 Author: Various Release Date: February 15, 2005 [EBook #15064] Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Keith Edkins and the PG Online Distributed Proofreading Team. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Vol. 152. April 25th, 1917. CHARIVARIA . THE Gazette des Ardennes states that German is becoming a more and more "popular tongue" in the occupied districts. The inhabitants, we understand, are looking forward with great pleasure to telling the Huns in German what they have always thought of them in French. It is now reported that, following the example of Professor SMYTHE, of Chicago, a number of distinguished Americans have bequeathed their brains to the Cornell Institute for scientific research. The rumour that the German CROWN PRINCE has offered the contents of his headpiece awaits confirmation. The British offensive has been arrested, says the Vossische Zeitung. Presumably for exceeding the speed limit. A gossip-writer says he is of the opinion that there will be a great revolution in Germany and that the KAISER will be at the head of it. It would be only decent to give him, say, a couple of lengths start. Over one million persons visited the Zoo last year. The chief attraction appears to have been a German gentleman from the Cameroons who is being accommodated in the Monkey House. A North London employer is advertising for men "any age up to one hundred years." The nature of the employment is not stated, but it is generally assumed to be akin to that of our telegraph boys. A woman shopper in Regent Street one day last week was accompanied by a white parrot. It is thought that this example will be widely followed by people who are not particularly good at repartee. Count REVENTLOW has informed the KAISER that without victory a continuation of the Monarchy is improbable. The KAISER is expected to retort that without the Monarchy the continuation of Count REVENTLOW is still more [pg 265] precarious. "Have you not thought," asked a distinguished cleric recently, "that all this bad weather may be a punishment for working on Sundays?" For our part we are convinced that our cynical abandonment of the sacred practice of throwing rice at weddings has had something to do with it. It was stated in Parliament last week that up to April 6th only 2,800 persons had been placed in employment by the National Service Department. The Government, it was felt, could have done better than that by the simple process of creating another new Department. SCOTLAND FOR EVER! The Journal in a recent message states that the British have ample supplies of ammunition. The Germans near St. Quentin and Lens also incline to this view. A resident of Northfleet, who wrote to a friend in Philadelphia in 1893, has just had the letter returned to him through the American Dead Letter Office. It is only fair to state that the letter was not marked "Urgent." Fortunately in our hour of need one man at least has undertaken to do his best for his country. Mr. FRANK HARRIS has told an American newspaper man that he does not intend to return to Great Britain. Owing to the increased cost of beer, several seaside resorts are announcing to intending visitors that they cannot guarantee a visit from the sea-serpent this summer. April 14th is said to be "Cuckoo Day" in this country, but several days before that the KAISER promised political reform to his people after the War. The other night a motor car driven by a French aviator, who was accompanied by three friends, made a tour of Paris, in the course of which it ran down six policemen. It is evident that the gallant fellow could not have been trying. The Star is advocating the abolition of betting news in the daily papers, and it is rumoured that its "Captain Cue" is prepared to offer ten to one that this good thing won't come off. As a protest against the Government's attitude towards The Nation it is rumoured that Mr. WINSTON CHURCHILL is about to buy another hat. A safe which had been stolen from a Dublin business house has now been discovered in a field nine miles away, but the whole of the contents are missing. It is believed to be the work of burglars. Potatoes are being grown on all the golf links around London. An enthusiast who is cultivating the ninth hole on one course is offering long odds that bogey will be not less than two tons. An electrical engineer has been sent as a substitute for a milker to a Sussex farmer, who, with the characteristic obstinacy of his class, refuses to accept the expert's assurance that all his cows are suffering from dry cells. A writer in The Daily Chronicle claims that there are no railway stations in Stoke Newington. It seems incredible that the artistic sense of a Metropolitan community could be so hopelessly stunted. The axe is being laid to the roots of our trees by the so-called weaker sex; and the proper way of toasting the new woodwoman is to sing, "For she's a jolly good feller." THE GREAT SACRIFICE. Dark lies the way before us, O my sweet! Never again, until the final trumpet Shall sound the Cease-fire, may our glances meet Over the Sally Lunn or crisp brown crumpet; Never again (the prospect makes my soul, Unnerved by going beefless once a week, ache) Shall you and I absorb the jammy roll Nor yet the toasted tea-cake. Never for us shall any fancy bread— The food of vernal Love, and very tasty— On lip and cheek its subtle savour shed, Blent with the lighter forms of Gallic pasty; Never shall any bun, for you and me, Impart to amorous talk a fresh momentum, Except its saccharine ingredients be Confined to ten per centum. The days of decorative art are done That made the toothsome biscuit more enticing (Even our wedding-cake when we are one Will be denuded of its outer icing); Yea, purest joy of all that we resign, A ban is laid upon the luscious tartlet By him who has for your sweet tooth and mine No mercy in his heartlet. And yet, if England, in her night of need, Debauched by pastry-cook and muffin-monger, Would have us curb our natural gift of greed And merely mitigate the pangs of hunger, Let us renounce life's sweetness from to-day, And turn, for Hobson's choice, to something higher; "Good-bye, Criterion!" let us bravely say, And "Farewell, Rumpelmeyer!" O.S. A PROPER PROPORTION. [pg 266] (An Interview with Mr. H.G. WELLS). I found the Sage, as I had expected, in his study at Omniscience Lodge. There he sat in his new suit of Britlings, surrounded by novels and stories in MS. dealing with every aspect of human affairs, sixty of the more important being specifically devoted to the War and the various ways in which it might conceivably terminate. I modestly approached and presented myself. "You have come," he said with a courteous gesture, "to discover my views on the present conflict?" "Not exactly," I said. "Ah," he said; "which is it, then? You can take your choice, you know. All you have to do is to select the subject," and he handed me a volume resembling Kelly's Directory in size and colour, and entitled "Classified Catalogue of Subjects on which Opinions can be furnished at the Shortest Notice." I turned the pages breathlessly until I came to "Class V, Voter; sub-class P, Proportional Representation." "There," I said, "is what I want," and I pointed the place out to him. "Dear me," he said, "you desire guidance on a very simple matter." "Well," I said, "I'm not so sure about that. It has rather flummoxed us in our office. We can't make head or tail—" "You may thank your stars," he interrupted, "that you've come to the right shop. I'll make it all as clear as daylight in two shakes of a pig's whisker. Are you ready?" I said I was, and he began to pour forth at once. "Imagine," he said, "a constituency of 40,000 voters who elect four representatives. Obviously anyone who gets 40,001 votes is elected. Well then, there are ten candidates. All you have to do is to take the quotient of x divided by y, where x can be raised to the nth power and y can be raised to the nth-1, and add to this the least common denominator of the number of votes cast for the last three candidates, taking care to eliminate in each case the square root of z, where z equals the number of voters belonging to the Church of England, minus Archdeacons and Rural Deans, but inclusive of Minor Canons and Precentors. Do you follow me?" "Ye-es," I said. "I thought you would," he said. "Next we proceed to take the multiples of the superhydrates mathematically converted into decimals, and then, allowing, of course, for the kilometric variation of the earth's maximum temperature reduced by the square of the hypotenuse, you begin the delicate operation of transferring votes from one candidate to another in packets of not less than one hundred. That's easy, isn't it?" "Oh, yes," I said, "that's quite easy." "Very well then," he said. "You have now got two candidates elected, A. and B. You take from them 653 votes, which do not legitimately belong to them, and you mix them up with the surplus votes of the remaining eight candidates. Unless C. is a congenital idiot, or a felon, or otherwise incapacitated, he will then be found to have 4,129 votes, and he too will be elected. For the last place you must proceed on a basis of geometrical progression. There are still seven candidates, but four of these have no earthly and must be withdrawn by a writ of Ne exeat regno, taking with them the 2,573 votes which are properly or improperly theirs, and leaving 3,326 votes to be added to those already recorded for D., who, being thus elected into the position of fourth letter of the alphabet, will be returned as elected on the Temperance and Vegetarian ticket. So finally you get your members duly elected without the blighting interference of the Caucus and the party wire-pullers generally. You see that, of course?" "Yes," I said, "I suppose I see it." "Of course you do, and the others will see it too. And they'll realise that the House of Commons will be a different place when the old system is destroyed and every shade of opinion is represented. But what chiefly appeals to me in it is its extraordinary simplicity and perspicuous ease. A child could perform the duties of counter or returning officer, and any voter, male or female, can master the system in about five minutes." I thanked Mr. WELLS for his courtesy and staggered dizzily back to Bouverie Street. On "How to Dig," from a recently-published military manual:— "To dig well one must dig often. Any series of complex co-ordinated movements can be performed with the greatest economy of effort only when they have become semi-reflex; and for this to happen the correlated series of nervous impulses must be linked up by higher development of the brain cells." A spade is useful, too. "I did not hear yesterday of the insufficiency of bread supplied at Restaurants being made up by cakes and guns brought from home."—Irish Paper. We have heard, however, of an insufficiency of alcoholic refreshment being made up by a "pocket-pistol." "After all, the custom of marrying only into Royal houses came to us from Germany, and dates from the Hanoverians.... The case of Henry VIII. is well known. Four of his wives were plain Englishwomen...."—Sunday Herald. Not so plain, however, as the German one, ANNE OF CLEVES. CANNON-FODDER—AND AFTER. KAISER (to 1917 Recruit). "AND DON'T FORGET THAT YOUR KAISER WILL FIND A USE FOR YOU—ALIVE OR DEAD." [At the enemy's "Establishment for the Utilisation of Corpses" the dead bodies of German soldiers are treated chemically, the chief commercial products being lubricant oils and pigs' food.] [pg 267] Aunt. "THIS IS A TERRIBLE WAR. ALL OF US MUST GO WITHOUT SOMETHING." R.F.C. Officer. "WELL, I TRY TO BE BRAVE ABOUT IT, AUNT. BUT THIS ZEPPELIN SHORTAGE HITS ME VERY HARD." THE MOST IMPORTANT THING. I. Lewis Gun Officer.—... So let me repeat and impress upon you, men, that the rifle is an effete weapon—extinct as the —what-you-call-it bird. It played its part, a good part, in the South African War, but we who observed what the machine gun did then and foretold its immense development [he was just nine years old at that time] knew that the rifle would soon be in the museums along with the bows and arrows. Pay attention, Private Jones. The Lewis Gun, the weapon of opportunity, is a platoon in itself. I don't know what the Government want to worry about men for. The Germans don't fill up their front trenches with a lot of soldiers to be killed with shrapnel. No, a machine gun every twenty or thirty yards is quite enough to hold any defensive line. So just bear these things in mind; and don't forget what we have learnt to-day. All right. Nine o'clock to-morrow. II. Physical Training Sergeant-Instructor.—Forward be—end. Ster—retch. Be—end. Ster—retch. Feet together— place. 'Ands—down. Stan—zee. Squad —'shun. Fingers straight, that man. Wotjer say? WOT? I can't 'elp wot the drill-sergeant tells yer. When I sez "'Shun" I want fingers straight down. On the command "Sitting—down" every man sits down tailor-fashion. Sitting—down. [This is the position in which Swedish drill squads hear words of wisdom.] Listen. An' look at me over there—not that I likes the look of yer—'as to put up with that, but when I torks I wants attention. Let me arsk yer this. Wot sort of men do we want in France? Why, fit men. 'Ow do yer get fit? I makes yer fit. 'Ow? Why, physical. Wot's the good of a bloke in the trenches if he's sick parade every bloomin' day? Arsk any of the serjents who is it wakes blokes up and makes 'em live men? Me. In about six weeks you will be able to run ten miles before brekfast in full marchin' order, carryin' 120 rounds, gettin' over six-foot walls and jumpin' eight-foot ditches. Don't look frightened, Private West. I 'ave seen weedier and uglier-lookin' blokes than you do it when I've done with 'em. One more thing.... III. Musketry Officer.—... Therefore you see an infantry soldier has one weapon and one only—the rifle. You fellows will be out at the Front pretty soon. Now, if a man gets up the line, no matter how strong he is, how well drilled, if he can't use his rifle he might just as well not be there for all the good he is to his country. All the money that's been spent on his trainin', food, clothin'—absolutely wasted; might as well have been thrown into the sea. Why, the other day a party of our fellows were heavin' bombs at about twenty Bosches—threw hundreds; couldn't reach 'em. And one sniper went out and killed the lot in two minutes. And so ... IV. Sergeant-Instructor of Bayonet-Fighting.—On guard. Long point. Withdraw. On guard. Rest. Now, when I snap my fingers I want to see you come to the high port and get roun' me like lightning. Some of you men seem to be treatin' this bizness in a light-'earted way. We don't do this work to prevent you gettin' into mischief. Not much. Wotjer join the army for? To fight. Right. I shows yer how to fight. 'Ow many Fritzes jer think I've killed, by teachin' rookies the proper use of the baynit? This is the goods. 'Ow are we goin' to win this bloomin' war? With the rifle? No. With bombs? No. With machine guns? No. 'Ow then? By turnin' 'em out with the baynit. Cold steel. That's it. An' I'll show yer where to pop it in, me lads—three inches of it. That's all you want—three inches ... (For sheer bloodthirstiness there is no patter like that of the Bayonet Department.) [pg 268] V. Bombing Officer.—Sit down. Smoke if you want to—and listen. My job is to teach you fellers all about what has turned out to be of the highest importance in this trench warfare, namely, bombs and grenades. This is a trench war; has been for three years. The nature of the fighting may alter, of course. We all hope it will. But we must think of trenches at the moment. Now, the German is a clever feller, and he soon saw that you'd never kill off the enemy if you just sat down behind a parapet with a rifle in your hand. So he started inventing and developing these things. But we're catching him up. We've caught him up. Now, this is a Mills ... VI. The Adjutant (after two hours' extended order drill and attack practice).—Just sit down. Close in a bit. Light your pipes if you wish. Let me tell you that the sort of work we've been doing this afternoon is the only way we're ever going to finish off the Hun—absolutely. You can never win a war by squatting down in a hole and lookin' at the other fellow. No, open fighting—that's what the new armies have got to learn. I fear it's been badly neglected; but not in this battalion. Now, with regard to the screen of skirmishers, I want ... VII. Drill Sergeant.—On 'er left, form—squad. For—erd, by the ri.' Mark—time. For—erd. Wake up, Thomson; we don't want no blinkin' dreamers in the Army. Pick up the step there, Number Three, fron' rank. 'Ep, ri'; 'ep, ri'; 'ep, ri. Sker-wad—'alt. Stan' still. 'Alt means 'alt. No movin' at all; just 'alt. Right—dress. Eyes—front. 'Swer. Eyes—front. Stanat—'ipe. 'Swer. Stanat—'ipe. Stan' easy. Now listen to me, me lads. The chiefest dooty of a soljer is O-bedience. Drill an' discipline is 'ow you gets that. Stop chewin, 'Arris. You'll be losin' your name again, me lad. Don't pay to lose your name twice—not in this regiment it don't. You'll learn a deal of other stuff 'ere; but take it from me it's the barrick- square work wot makes a soljer. Wot is a soljer? Why, a drilled man. 'Ow jer think I 'ave turned some 'undreds of blankety militiamen into the real thing? If a bloke can't stan' still on parade I don't want to hear about his doin's on the range or 'ow he can chuck a Mills. Sker-wad—'shun. Dis—miss. 'Swer. No call to go salootin' me, Private McKenzie. I ain't an orficer—yet. Dis—miss. Private Jones (young and keen, and a trifle confused).—Good 'evins, Bill; they carn't all be bloomin' well right, can they? Lance-Corporal Smith.—No, boy. It's the 'appy mejium we gets wiv 'em all, yer see. That's it—the happy mejium. Sentry. "HALT! WHO GOES THERE?" [pg 269] Officer. "VISITING ROUNDS." Sentry. "ADVANCE ONE AND RECOGNISE YERSELF." THE NEW NOTE IN THEATRICAL ADVERTISING. (The sort of thing we are now getting in the daily papers in place of the antique boastings of expenditure and magnificence.) FRIVOLITY THEATRE. On Monday next, at 8 o'clock, will be produced THE BELLE OF BELLONA, A NEW MUSICAL ECONOMANZA IN TWO ACTS. Largely reduced Orchestra. Cheap Jokes. Old Scenery. DUST OF BABYLON AT THE EMPEROR'S THEATRE. AN UNSPECTACULAR TALE OF THE EAST. Practically no Costumes. Support the production that saves money on wardrobe expenses. We understand that Miss Taka Topnote, the well-known revue artiste, is bringing an action for defamation against the dramatic editor of The Morning Chatterbox, who recently published a statement that her salary was fifteen hundred a week. The lady informs us that as a matter of fact she is now drawing thirty-five shillings, with half fees for matinées. Mr. Buckram, the famous actor-manager, writes: "A great deal of nonsense has been published about the so-called stupendous sums supposed to be expended on my shows. How such stories get about I am at a loss to imagine. Thus my present entertainment is reported to have cost me £25,000 before the curtain rose. All I can say is that, were this the case, the curtain would never have risen at all. To speak by the book (which anyone is at full liberty to inspect) I find my total initial outlay to have been £43 11s. 5d., inclusive of free drinks at the dress-rehearsal. All the members of my cast are paid as little as possible, usually in postage-stamps." It is stated that the new problem play shortly to be produced at the Vegeterion Theatre will be unique in the matter of economy. It will be played throughout upon a bare stage, the scene represented being "A Theatre during Rehearsal." The cast will be entirely composed of stage hands and dramatic students; moreover, as both the dialogue and situations have been gratuitously borrowed from other works of a similar character, there will be no author's fees. The very gratifying result of these measures is that the management is enabled to present to the public an entertainment that has cost nothing at all. Patriotism could no further go. "Meanwhile, the turnip trade is booming, and prices going higher: People seem to be talking to them in place of potatoes."—Newcastle Evening Chronicle. Yes, and their language is often very regrettable. TO FRANCE. If so it be for every generous thought Spring scents are sweeter yet. For every task with high endeavour wrought Earth's gems are fairer set— Primrose and violet; If for each noble dream in dormant seed The life-spark stirs and glows; If for the fame of each heroic deed Some bloom the lovelier grows— White lily or red rose; Then, France, thou shouldst be lavish of thy flowers For all our dead and thine, And for all women's tears, or thine or ours, Put forth some tender sign— Heartsease or eglantine. CHILDREN'S TALES FOR GROWN-UPS. THE JUDGMENT OF THE ASS. VII. It was in the year that the donkey was elected judge, because only he and the mule came to vote and the mule spoiled his voting-paper. The weasel came before the court to make a serious complaint against the rat. "Most learned judge," said the weasel, "the rat came to me for advice. 'Tell me,' he said, 'how I can obtain a delicious piece of cheese I have seen.' I showed him how he could get it. He ate the cheese, and since then he has not ceased to revile me." "Most unjust," said the judge. "What has the rat to say?" "The rat does not appear," said the mule, who was usher. "And why not?" asked the judge. "He is still in the trap," said the usher. "I showed him the way in," said the weasel proudly. "But not the way out," said the rat's prospective widow. "He only asked me how he could get the cheese, and I showed him," said the weasel. "The weasel shall have the reward of virtue," said the judge. "As for the rat I shall fine him for contempt of court in not appearing." "Justice!" cried the rat's prospective widow. "I demand my husband." "You shall have him," said the ass. "I order the weasel to show you the way into the trap." An Indian Circus handbill:— "Programme of the Bengal Grand Cirkcus Co: Performings begin P.P.M. PART I. 1. Some horses will make very good tricks. 2. The Klown will come and talk with the horses therefore audience will laugh itself very much. 3. The lady will walk on horses back when horses jumping very much. 4. The Klown will make a joking word and lady will become too angry, then Klown will run himself away. 5. The boy he will throw a ball to upside and he will catch the ball in downward journey. 6. This is very jumping tricks. PART II. [pg 270] 1. One man will make so tricks on trapees that audience will fraid himself very much. 2. Some dogs will play and role himself in the mud. 3. This is the grand display of tricks. 4. The lady will make himself so bend that everyone he will think that he is rubber lady. 5. The man will walk on wire tight. He is doing so nicely because he is professor of that. 6. Then will come grand dramatic. NOTICE. No stick will be allowed in the spectators and he shall not smoke also." EXCELSIOR. "Our ascent to the sun makes our enemy envious."—Kölnische Zeitung. The night fell fast, but faster still A youth came down the darkening hill, A super-youth, whose super-flag Flaunted the strange but hackneyed brag, "Excelsior!" His eyes betrayed through gold-rimmed prism Myopia and astigmatism; But, head in air, he proudly strode, Declaiming down the fatal road, "Excelsior!" The sign-posts clustered left and right And waved their arms towards the height; He heeded not, but through the mist Plunged steeply down and fiercely hissed, "Excelsior!" "Put on the brake!" Experience said; "The stars, my boy, are overhead; The pit of Tophet's deep and wide." A sudden snarl of hate replied, "Excelsior!" "O stay," cried Sanity, "and cool Thy fevered head in yonder pool!" The balefire smouldered in his eye, And still he muttered, hurtling by, "Excelsior!" "Beware the awful precipice! Beware the bottomless abyss!" This was Discretion's last Good-night. He gurgled, as he dropped from sight, "Excelsior!" At day-break, when the punctual sun Explored the hill-tops one by one, And scoured the solitary steep, An echo rose from out the deep, "Excelsior!" And, from the deeper depths that lay Beyond the farthest reach of day, A thin voice wailed, and, mocking it, Crackled the laughter of the pit, "Excelsior!" Some Jumbo. "Jumbo, the giant elephant of the Stosch-Parasani Circus in Berlin, has been killed for food, telegraphs the Amsterdam correspondent of The Daily Express. He yielded fifty-five tons of flesh."—Evening Paper (Glasgow). If this statement had not come from Amsterdam we should have found some difficulty in believing it. "At a meeting of the King George High School, Kasauli: 'Resolved, that the school be closed for to-day to commemorate the recapture of Kut, for which permission has been so kindly accorded by Pundit Hari Das Sahib, M.A.'"—Indian Paper. We are all, General MAUDE included, very much obliged to the Pundit. A MISNOMER. Once upon a time, in the midst of the most detestable Spring ever known—a Spring consisting entirely of hopes of better weather, raised for no other purpose than to be so thwarted and dashed that the spirits of that brave and much harassed creature, man, might sink still lower—once upon a time, even in this Spring, there was a fine evening. It was more than fine, it was tender, and, owing to a North wind, wonderfully luminous, and I walked slowly along the hedges —which were still bare, although April was far advanced—and listened to the blackbirds, and marvelled at the light that made everything so beautiful, and was filled with gratitude to the late WILLIAM WILLETT for re-arranging our foolish hours. I soon reached a favourite meadow, with a view of the hills and clumps of gorse in it, and, since there were clumps of gorse, many, many of those alluring little creatures which live in the ground and provide man with numbers of benefits— such as sweet flesh to put into pies; and cheap, soft, warm fur to wrap Baby Buntings in; and stubby tails, or scuts, to be used in hot-houses for transferring pollen that peach-blossoms may be fertilised, and (latterly) symbols for Government clerks who prefer civilian clothes and comfort to khaki and warfare; and (in Wales) toasted cheese. I refer to rabbits. As I stood motionless in this meadow watching the yellowing sky, I was aware of an Homeric contest quite close to me. Two rabbits wore engaged in a terrific battle. They kicked and they scratched and made the most furious attacks on each other. The fur flew and the ground resounded to their thuds. First one seemed to be winning and then the other, but there was no flinching. I had heard of rabbits fighting, but I had never seen it before. "Very unfair to have called them Cuthberts," I said to myself. "The —— Company have several second-hand cars for sale, starter and non-starter models; petrol consumption low."—The Autocar. Particularly that of the non-starters. "Good General: sold cheap if taken over this week; good reasons for leaving."—Liverpool Paper. Can this be HINDENBURG? "The Rev. Stuart Holden, on behalf of the Strength of Britain Movement, spoke of the enthusiasm for prohibition of audiences throughout the country."—The Times. We understand, however, that this enthusiasm for the prohibition of audiences has not yet extended to the theatrical profession. [pg 271] SPORTING DAYS WITH THE FOOD-PRODUCER'S STAFF . THE FOOD QUESTION. RATIONING AT THE ZOO. "In the Northern area," says a despatch from Mr. POCOCK, "a period of inactivity has set in which is partly due to the fact that the dromedary has been placed on a vegetarian diet. There has been a cold snap in the crocodile house. Three of our keepers have disappeared." An attempt to substitute salsify for bloaters in the dietary of the sea-lion was not successful. Complaints have been received from the elephant-house to the effect that buns sold for the benefit of the occupants have not reached their destination. Should this abuse continue it will be necessary to make arrangements to have every child under the age of twelve submitted to an X-ray examination before leaving the Gardens. [pg 272] The use of human food for the nourishment of animals is, however, being discouraged; and for the future guinea-pigs and broken glass will be the staple diet of boa-constrictors and ostriches respectively. Peppermint-balls for grizzly bears are to be discontinued; also egg-nogg for anthropoid apes. Alice (saying her prayers, after a quarrel with her sister). "AND, PLEASE GOD, BLESS BETTY." Betty. "DON'T YOU DARE TO PRAY FOR ME!" HINTS TO YOUNG FOOD-PRODUCERS. Jugged Hare.—A well-known firm of hare-raisers in Carmelite Street informs us that young rabbits fed on sponge- cake soaked in port wine have a flavour which renders them indistinguishable from hare. Celeriac.—-This appetising vegetable has been little cultivated owing to a general but erroneous belief that it was the name of a new kind of motor-car. "Celeriac" is of course a compound of the word "celery" and the Arabic suffix "ac," which means "bearing a resemblance to" or "a small imitation of." Thus it would be correct for the writer to speak of the salariac he earns by writing this sort of thing. [Note.—"Earns" would not be correct.—ED.] Navigation Extraordinary. "Although the stern and screws of the vessel were well out of the water she was able to make the port under her own steam."—Daily Mail. "Portatoes in the usual forms have disappeared this week.—LORNA."—British Weekly. These must be the Devonportatoes of which we have heard so much. AT BEST. [Baron MORITZ FERDINAND VON BISSING, the German Military Governor-General of Belgium, the murderer of Nurse CAVELL and instigator of the infamous Belgian deportations, after being granted a rest from his labours, is reported to have died "of overwork."] Tired of pillaging and sacking, Tired of bludgeoning and whacking, Tired of torturing and racking, BISSING takes his "rest." For the sport of shooting nurses, Gloating o'er his victims' hearses, Answering appeals with curses, He had lost his zest. All his diabolic striving To intensify slave-driving Could not slay the soul surviving In a Nation's breast. Still the flame burns ever brighter Underneath the blouse or mitre; Still the smitten greets the smiter With undaunted crest; While the arch-tormentor, flying From the hell about him lying, Mid the fire and worm undying Takes his endless rest. [pg 273] THE WANING OF FAITH. GUARDIAN OF STATUE. "YOU WISH TO HAMMER ANOTHER NAIL INTO THE COLOSSUS OF OUR HINDENBURG?" EX-ENTHUSIAST. "NO; I WANT MY OLD ONE BACK." ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. Tuesday, April 17th.—The re-opening of the House of Commons found Lord FISHER in his accustomed place over the clock. What is the lure that brings him so often to the Peers' Gallery? I think it must be his strong sense of duty. As Chairman of the Inventions Board he feels he ought to lose no opportunity of adding to his stock. Quite the most striking feature of the afternoon was the pink shirt worn by a well-known Scottish Member, whose name I refrain from mentioning to spare him any additional blushes. It was of such an inflammatory hue that his brother- legislators at first took it for a well-developed case of measles (probably German) and sheered off accordingly. Nobody knows what caused him to indulge in the rash act, but it is hoped in the interests of coherent debate that he will not do it again. Mr. DILLON was so much disturbed by the apparition that, having started out to demand an immediate General [pg 274]