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Read Ebook: Punch or the London Charivari Vol. 146 February 4 1914 by Various Seaman Owen Editor
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Ebook has 243 lines and 17575 words, and 5 pages
Editor: Owen Seaman
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
VOL. 146
FEBRUARY 4, 1914
CHARIVARIA.
The statement, made at the inquiry into the Dublin strike riots, that 245 policemen were injured during the disturbances has, we hear, done much to allay the prevailing discontent among the belabouring classes.
"COALING THE STORES" is a headline which caught our eye in a newspaper last week. To be followed, after the strike, we imagine, by "STORING THE COALS."
A Russian officer, last week, shot the leader of a gipsy choir in a St. Petersburg restaurant, not because he sang out of tune but merely because he expressed resentment at the officer's conduct towards his daughter. It is thought that the incident may lead to an Entente between Germany and Russia.
An organisation called "The Parents' League" has been formed in New York for the purpose of simplifying the lives of children. This has caused a considerable amount of uneasiness in juvenile circles, and it is said that a "Hands-off-our-jam" party has already been formed.
In a letter of Mrs. CARLYLE'S just published, the wife of the Chelsea sage describes a cat as "a selfish, immoral, improper beast." This has given no little satisfaction in canine circles, where the deceased lady is being hailed as a human being with the insight of a dog.
A volume entitled "The Great Scourge and How to End it" has made its appearance. We had imagined this to be a treatise on the anarchist activities of a certain section of the Suffragists until we discovered the name of Miss CHRISTABEL PANKHURST as its authoress.
Councillor SHERLOCK has been elected Lord Mayor of Dublin for the third time in succession, and Sir ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE will be interested to hear that there is some talk now of calling the local Mansion House "SHERLOCK'S Home."
Belief in the innocence of the dove dies hard. At Driffield, last week, a Mr. DOVE, who was charged with conducting a lottery, was acquitted in spite of his pleading guilty.
A music-hall performer gave a turn in a King's Bench court the other day. There was a time when a judge would have objected to his court being turned into a theatre, but since the advent of comic judges the line of demarcation has become blurred.
According to Dr. FRANK E. LAKEY, of the English High School, Boston, U.S.A., boys are at their naughtiest between 3 and 4 P.M.; and at their best at 10 A.M. But surely most boys are awake and out of bed at 10 A.M.?
"POPULAR MICROBES
AUDIENCE OF 2,000 AT A BLACKPOOL LECTURE."
One is so accustomed to think of the little chaps in millions that this seems rather a poor attendance.
HONORIFICS.
A cowardly hoax was recently perpetrated in Paris, where a number of politicians consented to assist in raising a statue to H?g?sippe Simon, the educator of the Democracy and author of the famous epigram, "The darkness vanishes when the sun rises," only to discover later that H?g?sippe Simon had never existed.
Needless to say, this has produced a profound impression upon public men in this country, who are regarding invitations of a similar character with the gravest suspicion.
For instance, Mr. WILLIAM ARCHER, on receiving a request for his assistance in raising a monument to IBSEN, is reported to have replied cautiously that he would like to know more about this writer before giving an answer.
Mr. J. L. GARVIN, on being approached on the subject of a bust of Mr. FILSON YOUNG, is reported to have consulted his assistant-editor as to whether the name might not be a pure invention; while Mr. G. K. CHESTERTON remarked, when asked to assist in raising a bas-relief to CHARLES DICKENS, that he didn't believe there was no such a person.
Billy Brown : "Ow!"
SMITHERS, B.C.
I saw it on a map, most large and fine , Showing how trains upon the Grand Trunk line, Grand but Pacific, run along by steam Right to Prince Rupert on the sea And there are brought up short.
Smithers! I saw it on a map, I say, A panoramic map in Cockspur Street. And sudden in my heart began to play Echoes of old romance, and all my feet Fluttered responsive to the name's sheer beauty, So rhythmical and fluty.
Smithers! The music of it filled my mouth. I saw Provence and that enchanted shore, And lotus-isles amid the dreamy South, And champions out of mediaeval lore Looking at large for ladies in distress Round storied Lyonnesse.
O. S.
THE COMMERCIAL SIDE.
Now that the Headmaster of Bradfield has decided to start a "Commercial side," to enable boys to prepare at school for a business career, it may be of interest to publish these fragments from the diary of another Headmaster who has done pioneering work in a similar direction:--
LIDBETTER.
The shopkeeper said he had not got it in stock, but he would get it for me.
"When?"
"Before lunch?"
"Yes."
"For certain?"
"Yes."
Very well then, I would have it.
"Can I send it?" he asked.
"No, someone will call."
Very well. It should be ready for my man before lunch.
How did he know I had a man? I wondered. I had never been to the shop before. Do I look like a man who has a man? I suppose I must. Yet I always rather hoped that I didn't.
What had I said exactly? I had said, "someone will call."
Either, then, "someone" means, in such shops, a man-servant; or the fact that I am a man-keeping animal is visible all over me.
I went on to wonder if, should he see Lidbetter, he would know that he belonged to me. Did I not only betray the fact that I kept a man, but also what kind of a man I kept?
Good old Lidbetter--what should I do without him? I wondered. How get through the day at all? How, to begin with, get up?
And then the careful stropping of my razors. Without Lidbetter how could I get that done for me?
Without him I am sure I should never change my neck-tie till it was worn out, or get new shirts until mustard and cress had begun to sprout on the cuffs of the old ones, or have a crease down my trousers like Mr. GERALD DU MAURIER, or go out with anything but a dusty overcoat and dustier hat.
But with Lidbetter...!
How do people get on without Lidbetters? I wondered. I suppose there are men who do not keep men and yet exist--men who can't say, "My man"? An odd experience.
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