Chapter 3

_In re_ chimney cowl at 15, Poynings Road and your letter of January 19, we can only say that it surprises us very much. We employ only the most competent tradesmen, who could not possibly make the kind of mistake you suppose. We beg to refer you to the part of our letter of January 17 referring to Hathaway Mansions.

_Murdoch McWhannel_ to _Messrs. Fairley and Willing_.

_January 24, 191-._

I regret very much the tone of your letter of January 23. It is hardly courteous to suggest, as your letter does, that I cannot distinguish between the noise of a cowl on Hathaway Mansions, which are fully 150 yards away, and one which is practically just above my bedroom. As I write this letter, seated at a table at the window of my study, I can actually see the cowl shrieking--if you will pardon a figure of speech which has perhaps a Hibernian flavour. As my study is built out to the back of this house, it is parallel with your property at 15, Poynings Road. I am within fifty yards of the offending cowl. The noise it makes rises and falls in shrillness according to the speed at which the cowl revolves under the pressure of the wind. We are not disturbed at all by any cowl on Hathaway Mansions, but by this one of yours, about which I wrote you first so long ago as January 3. I have kept a diary of the cowl since then and for some days earlier, showing the number of hours per day that we have been annoyed by it, the number of times it has prevented us from getting to sleep at the usual time, the number of nights we have been wakened from the same cause, and the number of mornings when we have been prematurely wakened, often as early as seven o'clock, and prevented from getting to sleep again. I shall be glad to send you a copy of this document for your information. The original I must retain, in case any legal proceedings should be necessary, as I have had each item in the diary certified by my wife and our house-tablemaid, a very intelligent and observant girl. I hope, however, it may not be necessary to take any legal steps, such as an action of interdict and damages at my instance, or a prosecution for nuisance at the instance of the public authority, which in this case would be the City Council, to a number of which body I am not altogether unknown. In fact I may say I took the opportunity of mentioning the matter to Bailie McPartan at a municipal conversazione to which my wife and I were invited last week. I do not wish to trouble you by writing at any undue length on this subject, but I think it right and only fair to tell you that owing to the actual noise of the cowl, and perhaps even more (as our doctor says) to the mental strain of listening to hear whether it is going to begin again, my wife is on the verge of a complete nervous collapse, which seems likely to necessitate some weeks' rest cure in a nursing home, and possibly a trip to the Canaries. I am advised by my lawyer that these are contingent liabilities, the burden of which would fall upon you as the owner of the cowl. In these circumstances I feel sure you will favour the immediate removal of this nuisance.

_Messrs. Fairley and Willing_ to _Murdoch McWhannel_.

_January 27, 191-._

Your letter of 24th curt. will receive immediate attention at the hands of our solicitors. Messrs. Samson and Samuel, 114, North Regent Street, to whom perhaps you will kindly address any further communications you may think necessary _re_ cowl.

_Gilbert Macdonald, 5, Poynings Avenue, Glasgow, N.W._, to _George Willing, house factor_.

_February 3, 191-._

DEAR WILLING,--For Heaven's sake, as an old friend, spike or remove the chimney cowl that McWhannel at No. 3 has written you about. He has called on me twice and written three long letters, "to enlist my sympathy and support." He is the most poisonous kind of bore, and I'll gladly pay for the removal of the cowl, if that's the only way of muzzling him.

_Reply by telephone, summarised._ _Willing_ to _Macdonald_.

_February 4, 191-._

I would do so, for friendship's sake, but I've just sold the property. I preferred that to having any more letters from him.

_Messrs. Fairley and Willing_ to _Murdoch McWhannel_.

_February 14, 191-._

_Re_ your letters to Messrs. Samson and Samuel of January 29th and 31st, and February 2nd, 5th, 8th, 11th, and your telegrams of 12th and 13th, we have now pleasure in advising you that we have sold the property at 15, Poynings Road, including the cowl, to the Corporation. We understand that the Corporation propose to use the premises as a reception house in connection with their Home for Lost Dogs, and we trust that this arrangement will be satisfactory to you.

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* * * * *

Commercial Candour.

From an Oxford Street wine merchant's advt.:--

"Equal to the so-called First Quality brands."

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"He was defended by Mr. Macbottle of whisky."--_Scotch paper._

The Macbottles (of whisky) are a very well-known Highland clan.

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"At Sapphire Lodge in Vincent Square, W. A. Randall Wells has lately painted two rooms in a manner which combines novelty very successfully with a sound tradition." Speaking of the bedroom, _The Times_ goes on to say that "there are passages from the 'Sensitive Blast' finely written on vellum in every panel." Certainly this variation on the title of SHELLEY'S poem seems to "combine novelty very successfully with a sound tradition."

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A VILLAIN IN REVOLT.

I have been in a fair dust-up in Denver City, Made many a baresark rush; I have bluffed with Death in my time and scooped the kitty, Smashing a cool straight flush; I have gouged my jack-knife deep in a victim's thorax (Golly, how the blood did gush!); I have scalped some dozens of skulls with an Indian war-axe Without being put to the blush.

I've killed with stilettos at times and with crude sandbagging, Or a brute belaying-pin; With a twisted cord I have frequently done my scragging, And doped with devilish gin; I remember once in a boarding-house racket at Rio How my snickersnee snicked clean in; And I booted a blackguard to death with consid'rable _brio_ One evening in Tien-tsin.

I've run amok with a kris and sent men howling; With a kukri I've killed my prey; I'm an amateur still--I admit it--at disembow'ling, But I've settled a few that way; And I mind me well (for I still can sniff the aroma Of that particular fray) How I quartered and cut into ribbons some beggars at Boma On rather a busy day.

But I'm blowed--being really a rabid humanitarian, And a vegetarian too-- If I mean to devour an unfortunate fellow Aryan In the Island of Oahu. I have done dire deeds by request, without any evasion, But this thing I will not do; If they won't be content with a "fake" for this single occasion, My cinema job is through.

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From a list of popular novels:--

"_The Beloved Premier_, by H. MAXWELL. _The Greater Law_, by VICTORIA CROSS."

Politicians can take their choice.

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The Latest Cinema Poster.

"Our Sea Rooms now open. No Finer Death."

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The Men that Matter.

Sound the clarion, FILSON, FYFE, To all the reading world proclaim One signed half-column, straight from life, Is worth a page without a name.

* * * * *

THE ART OF CONVERSATION.

I had a terrible experience yesterday, one of life's inky black hours which will bring a shudder whenever in future days memory seizes an idle moment to refresh herself. I had been dining with Scarfield and his mother at Hampstead, and with the entry of the coffee he had pleaded a sudden dyspepsia and withdrawn. So his mother, a dear colourless old lady, undertook to entertain me. By her desire I lighted a cigar.

She mentioned that she had just returned from a visit to Glasgow, and I remarked intelligently that Glasgow was a fine place. Considering for a moment, she observed that she thought the weather in Glasgow was colder than that of the South of England; and I said, Yes, very likely, I had heard so. In about two minutes she qualified her statement by informing me that the South of England was as a rule milder than Glasgow. I replied that it appeared to me very possible, adding recklessly that they had peculiarly mixed weather in Glasgow, which she seemed to think rather a questionable presentment of the case for the North, for she kept silent and ruminated for seven or eight minutes. My mind took a little excursion to Putney, where I have friends. But, before I had really settled at Putney, the lady's voice intimated that perhaps they had more rain in Glasgow than in the South of England.

I came back from Putney with a slight mental wrench, yet sufficiently clear-headed to say decidedly that Glasgow, on the whole, had a much better climate than the South, because I had once spent a day there, and the sun shone the whole time, so I ought to know. Then I started off again, and had just reached Walham Green (one does not speak of these places, but I may tell you that it is a station on the way to Putney, where I have a friend), when she responded with lightning-like swiftness that it couldn't be healthy to live in Glasgow. This bordered on repartee, so I countered rapidly with the brilliant suggestion that a good many people managed to live there, hoping she would not score by the obvious rejoinder that a good many people died there. If she had, I can't imagine how I should have extricated myself. Luckily she merely murmured, "Ah, yes," and reflected. I was just stepping off the train at a station (Putney--to be explicit, it is a lady friend) when there seemed to be a collision, and I caught myself saying, "Indeed!" though I don't know why. She nodded approval, however, and I ventured on a meditative "Ye-es."

"But they don't seem to mind," she said, glancing at me blandly through her spectacles. "_Do_ they?"

"You see," I answered, chancing it, "they are so used to it." She smiled and agreed.

"That must be the reason," she said. For what, I hadn't the remotest idea; but this just shows what presence of mind will do for one in an emergency.

"What a difference they must find," I went on boldly, and lapsed into a muse. She sighted it, however, and replied in less than five minutes--

"You mean now that the old-fashioned ones are coming in again?"

Here was a catastrophe. Did she refer to hats, or skirts, or Christmas cards? What sudden original observation had I unfortunately missed during that last journey South-westward? At all costs I must keep cool. I pulled myself together and plunged.

"Yes," I said. "You see the old-fashioned ones were so awfully tight, weren't they?"

"Tight?" she echoed. "Not _tight_."

"Well, not exactly _tight_," I answered, feeling rather distracted. "I meant large."

She looked at me suspiciously, I thought. "_I_ think they're too long," she said, "and such a lot of people in them."

This was growing too complicated, and I wished heartily we had stuck to Glasgow and its weather.

"One finds them," she added, "so hard to follow."

I racked my miserable brain for anything that was lengthy, populous, and difficult to follow; in vain.

"Still," I gasped, glancing at the door, "one can always ... one can generally ... one can sometimes sit down ... for a rest ... if one is dreadfully tired," I explained.

She gazed at me reproachfully.

"I don't usually stand at the back of the pit," she said. "The last time Fred took me we had stalls."

"How--how _jolly_!" I murmured. "I was thinking of--of----"

"If you please, Mr. Fred would like some soda-water and a few biscuits taken up, Ma'am," said the servant, entering softly.

I rose.

"Must you go?" protested my conversationalist. "Oh, I am so sorry! But come again soon--you have kept me quite lively. Good-bye."

I took the tube to Charing Cross and changed there for Putney and Ethel. (Did I mention that her name was Ethel?) But when I told Ethel about it afterwards she said she thought sarcasm in elderly ladies was very objectionable.

* * * * *

COMMERCIAL ART.

Across the sundering gulf of time I lift a song to you, Melodious as a minster chime, Loud, I expect, as two. Years have flown swiftly since we met; Do you, remembered one, forget The rapturous moment and sublime When I drew near to you? I bet A half-a-crown you do.

Your name I never learned--Hélène, Beryl, perhaps Marie, Phyllis, Estelle, or merely Jane-- It makes no odds to me. I hymn you, maiden, none the less; I toil in rhyme and metre; yes, From noon till eve I bear the pain Of this prolonged poetic stress (With half-an-hour for tea).

Carrots your hair was (_i.e._, red; "Carrots" is just my fun); Blue were your eyes, and from them sped A gleam that mocked the sun-- I _think_ that's so, but, as I say, Time has moved quickly since that day, And few, too few, the words we said When languidly, as beauty may, You handed me a bun.

Calmly you took it from the place Where it was used to sit, And I can still recall the grace With which you dusted it. I paid you, and we parted; so Life's rich adventures come and go! And did that brief glimpse of your face Set love within me surging? No, It didn't. Not a bit.

I only sing because I must; Not mine the fret, the throb Of fevered passion; verse is just My livelihood, or job. Searching for themes, I had a clear, Swift vision of your dial; queer How such things happen, but I trust These lines will bring me in, my dear, £1 or 30s.

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* * * * *

THE BURNING QUESTION.

Feeling that not all the representative voices have been heard with regard to the question of smoking in theatres, _Mr. Punch_ has been making further inquiries. The replies are appended:--

_General VILLA V. VILLA._ I think that smoking should be permitted everywhere.

_Mr. MAX PEMBERTON._ I am totally opposed to giving theatres the same comfortable rules as the variety halls. If people may smoke at musical comedies they are in danger of avoiding revues.

_Mr. G. K. CHESTERTON._ I am in favour of giving the public all they want. Let them smoke if they wish to, everywhere and everywhen. Let them also chew and take snuff: a private snuff-box should be attached to every stall.

_Mr. VICTOR GRAYSON._ I would support smoking in theatres if pipes were permitted. But of course they won't be.

_Mr. BERNARD SHAW (to whom no inquiry was addressed, but that did not prevent his sending a long letter on the subject, the purport of which is that there should be no smoking anywhere)._ Had I ever smoked I should not now be the first intellectual in Europe.

_Sir JAMES CRICHTON-BROWNE._ No smoking in theatres for me. And if I go to the Gaiety and find that a cigar or cigarette on my right or left singes my whiskers I will have the law of Mr. GEORGE EDWARDES.

"_Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch._" Let there be smoking, but let some kind of control be kept on the brands of cigars that are smoked.

_Mr. LLOYD GEORGE._ I am in favour of the extension of all taxable luxuries.

_Mr. EUSTACE MILES._ Most London theatres are now so grossly over-ventilated that I welcome the idea of tobacco as helping to redress the balance.

_Master ANTHONY ASQUITH._ Surely if there is smoking in one house of entertainment there may be smoking in another. I am sure my poor father would agree.

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THE FEDERAL SOLUTION.

(_See the daily papers_ passim.)

I.

SIR,--At last a ray of sanity has fallen like oil on the troubled waters of the Irish controversy and has given a well-merited cold douche to the extremists on either side. It is now acknowledged that what for want of a better term I may call the Federal Solution holds the field, and any attempt to expel it will only plunge the objector still deeper in the mire and cover him with ridicule from head to foot.

Long ago I adumbrated in the clearest possible way the fundamental outlines of this solution, and every hour which has passed has only sufficed, to strengthen a conviction which was already so deeply rooted as to be beyond the reach of hostile argument. What is now required to be done may be stated in a nutshell. Let the Government withdraw the present Home Rule Bill. They will thus dispose at once of the opposition of Mr. BONAR LAW, Sir EDWARD CARSON, Mr. J. L. GARVIN and Mr. WILLIAM O'BRIEN, and will provide themselves with a clean slate, which will be a peg on which any subsequent plan may be hung. Then let them bring in a Bill (or four or more Bills, if deemed necessary) for conferring autonomous governments on all the counties of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales, every county to have the option of excluding itself for a period of not less than fifty or more than a hundred years by a majority of two-thirds of its electorate, women to count as two on a division. At the same time let the House of Lords be so reconstituted as to become in truth an Imperial Legislature, subject, however, to the veto of a new and impartial body to be composed of Field-Marshals, Archbishops, Judges and retired Lieutenant-Governors. Our Oversea Dominions could come into this scheme at any moment, if so desired. To this plan I can see no objections whatever except, perhaps, that its execution will take time and will stand in the way of other legislation--but anything that is worth doing takes time, and, for my own part, I want no other legislation.

Yours, etc.,

JAMES B. HORNBLOWER, Organising Secretary, Society of Federationists.

II.

(_In answer to the above._)

SIR,--Dr. Hornblower is at his old games. His plan for settling the Irish question is no plan at all, as I have frequently shown. Whenever it has been submitted to the fire of criticism it has been found that it will not wash. It is quite useless to try to mix oil and vinegar in a jug that will not hold water.

I do not wish to be misunderstood. I am a convinced supporter of a Federal Solution and have for many years endeavoured to remove the public apathy which I have found to exist in regard to this profoundly interesting question. My suggestion is that, in order to sift the matter thoroughly and, if possible, to strike out a new path, we should put our existing constitution into the melting pot and thus clear away the weeds which threaten to choke its fair growth. Let Parliament be a movable institution, sitting for one week in Australia, for one week in Canada, for one week in Ireland, and so on. In the course of a year it will have sat in all the component parts of the Empire, which will then, indeed, be an Empire on which the sun never sets, and in which Parliament always sits. It need not, of course, be the same Parliament in every case, but can be varied, to suit local customs and prejudices. As a symbol of unity His Majesty the King might be conveyed by a special service of air-ships from one country to another, so that he might always open every Parliament in person. England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales would thus take their proper places in the Empire by the side of Barbados, Canada and British Guiana, and there would be no jealousy because all would be treated equally. Only in this way can civil war be avoided and Ulster be satisfied.

Yours, etc.,

BENJAMIN WOOLLET, Chairman of the Amalgamated League for the Federation of the Empire.

III.

(_In answer to the two preceding letters._)

SIR,--Professor Woollet and Dr. Hornblower are both wrong. The only way in which a Federal Solution, such as we all desire, can be brought about is to convert the existing House of Lords--no change being made in its constitution--into the supreme and only legislative assembly of the whole Empire. The House of Commons, of course, would cease to sit, or it might take the place of the present London County Council. This is the true plan. All others are absurd. It is useless for people to say they do not want this. We insist on their having it.

Yours, etc.,

JONATHAN FIREDAMP, President of Council of the Federal Association.

* * * * *

A MYTH OF BOND STREET.

(_The latest thing in female head-wear is said to be the "Minerva" Hat._)

Forgive me if my nerves were somewhat shaken; Pardon me if my pulse went pit-a-pat When I observed your tiny head had taken To a "Minerva" hat.

Love at my heart's closed door, with loudest knockings, Won his admittance as I gazed on you Garbed in the gear of her, of all blue-stockings, The most superbly blue.

For you seemed nobler far in form and feature; In wisdom, too, I deemed you now divine, And, though I felt myself a worthless creature, I swore to make you mine.

I said, "I'll win this goddess. Though the siege is Long, I shall learn her wisdom if I can, Until in time she throws her nuptial ægis Over her Super-man."

And then you spoke, in accents all too human, Glanced at me coyly from beneath your casque; My vision vanished, and I saw the woman Behind that heavenly mask.

And straight I felt (so flippant was your mien) a Pain as I mused on Pallas and her fowl, And left the phantom of a faked Athena, A disillusioned Owl.

* * * * *

Love's Labour Lost.

"The Newcastle Fire Brigade were called upon last night to deal with an outbreak at----, where Mr. J. G---- carries on business as a firelighter manufacturer. Before much damage had been done, the firemen were able to extinguish the flames with chemicals."

_Newcastle Daily Journal._

Once again we see how the economic instinct clashes with the artistic temperament.

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OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks._)