Chapter 2

"Young M'Pherson, the Blackford jumper, is anxious to fix up a match for a long jump with anybody in Scotland. A week ago he did 5-1/2 ft., but he asserts he can beat this hollow if called upon."

_Edinburgh Evening News._

If M'PHERSON will say just how young he is, we will find a suitable nephew to take him on. Tommy (aged eight) did 6 ft. 1 in. yesterday, but asserts that he slipped.

* * * * *

A MIDSUMMER MADNESS.

The girl who shared Herbert's meringue at dinner (a brittle one, which exploded just as he was getting into it) was kind and tactful.

"It doesn't matter a bit," she said, removing fragments of shell from her lap; and, to put him at his ease again, went on, "Are you interested in little problems at all?"

Herbert, who would have been interested even in a photograph album just then, emerged from his apologies and swore that he was.

"We're all worrying about one which Father saw in a paper. I do wish you could solve it for us. It goes like this." And she proceeded to explain it. Herbert decided that the small piece of meringue still in her hair was not worth mentioning and listened to her with interest.

On the next morning I happened to drop in at Herbert's office.... And that, in short, is how I was mixed up in the business.

"Look here," said Herbert, "you used to be mathematical; here's something for you."

"Let the dead past bury its dead," I implored. "I am now quite respectable."

"It goes like this," he said, ignoring my appeal.

He then gave me the problem, which I hand on to you.

"A subaltern riding at the rear of a column of soldiers trotted up to the captain in front and challenged him to a game of billiards for half-a-crown a side, the loser to pay for the table. Having lost, he played another hundred, double or quits, and then rode back, the column by this time having travelled twice its own length, and a distance equal to the distance it would have travelled if it had been going in the other direction. What was the captain's name?"

Perhaps I have not got it quite right, for I have had an eventful week since then; or perhaps Herbert didn't get it quite right; or perhaps the girl with the meringue in her hair didn't get it quite right; but anyhow, that was the idea of it.

"And the answer," said Herbert, "ought to be 'four cows,' but I keep on making it 'eight and tuppence.' Just have a shot at it, there's a good fellow. I promised the girl, you know."

I sat down, worked it out hastily on the back of an envelope, and made it a yard and a half.

"No," said Herbert; "I know it's 'four cows,' but I can't get it."

"Sorry," I said, "how stupid of me; I left out the table-money."

I did it hastily again and made it three minutes twenty-five seconds.

"It _is_ difficult, isn't it?" said Herbert. "I thought, as you used to be mathematical and as I'd promised the girl----"

"Wait a moment," I said, still busy with my envelope. "I forgot the subaltern. Ah, that's right. The answer is a hundred and twenty-five men.... No, that's wrong--I never doubled the half-crown. Er--oh, look here, Herbert, I'm rather busy this morning. I'll send it to you."

"Right," said Herbert. "I know I can depend on you, because you're mathematical." And he opened the door for me.

I had meant to do a very important piece of work that day, but I couldn't get my mind off Herbert's wretched problem. Happening to see Carey at tea-time, I mentioned it to him.

"Ah," said Carey profoundly. "H'm. Have you tried it with an '_x_'?"

"Of course."

"Yes, it looks as though it wants a bit of an '_x_' somewhere. You stick to it with an '_x_' and you ought to do it. Let '_x_' be the subaltern--that's the way. I say, I didn't know you were interested in problems."

"Well----"

"Because I've got rather a tricky chess problem here I can't do." He produced his pocket chess-board. "White mates in four moves."

I looked at it carelessly. Black had only left himself with a Pawn and a King, while White had seen to it that he had a Queen and a couple of Knights about. Now, I know very little about chess, but I do understand the theory of chess problems.

"Have you tried letting the Queen be taken by Black's pawn, then sacrificing the Knights, and finally mating him with the King alone?"

"Yes," said Carey.

Then I was baffled. If one can't solve a chess problem by starting off with the most unlikely-looking thing on the board, one can't solve it at all. However, I copied down the position and said I'd glance at it.... At eleven that night I rose from my glance, decided that Herbert's problem was the more immediately pressing, and took it to bed with me.

I was lunching with William next day, and I told him about the subaltern. He dashed at it lightheartedly and made the answer seventeen.

"Seventeen what?" I said.

"Well, whatever we're talking about. I think you'll find it's seventeen all right. But look here, my son, here's a golf problem for you. A. is playing B. At the fifth hole A. falls off the tee into a pond----"

I forget how it went on.

When I got home to dinner, after a hard day with the subaltern, I found a letter from Norah waiting for me.

"I hear from Mr. Carey," she wrote, "that you're keen on problems. Here's one I have cut out of our local paper. Do have a shot at it. The answer ought to be eight miles an hour."

Luckily, however, she forgot to enclose the problem. For by this time, what with Herbert's subaltern, Carey's pawn, and a cistern left me by an uncle who was dining with us that night, I had more than enough to distract me.

And so the business has gone on. The news that I am preparing a collection of interesting and tricky problems for a new _Encylopædia_ has got about among my friends. Everybody who writes to me tells me of a relation of his who has been shearing sheep or rowing against the stream or dealing himself four aces. People who come to tea borrow a box of wooden matches and beg me to remove one match and leave a perfect square. I am asked to do absurd things with pennies....

Meanwhile Herbert has forgotten both the problem and the girl. Three evenings later he shared his Hollandaise sauce with somebody in yellow (as luck would have it) and she changed the subject by wondering if he read DICKENS. He is now going manfully through _Bleak House_--a chapter a night--and when he came to visit me to-day he asked me if I had ever heard of the man.

However I was not angry with him, for I had just made it come to "three cows." It is a cow short, but it is nearer than I have ever been before, and I think I shall leave it at that. Indeed, both the doctor and the nurse say that I had better leave it at that.

A. A. M.

* * * * *

A SEASONABLE BEVERAGE.

Great charm hath tea--some fragrant blend; Sipped with a fair and festive friend;

And even milk hath flavour, too, When sun-kissed milkmaids hand it you.

Beer, in a large resounding can, Befits a coarser type of man,

While some rejoice in spirit pure, And others in a faked liqueur.

But none of these, nor any wine, Hath present claim to praise of mine,

Hath e'er produced the gasp and thrill Of that incomparable swill

When first, from care and toil set free, I plunge into the summer sea And bring a mouthful back with me.

* * * * *

Illustration: THE ANNUAL PROBLEM.

_Showing how helpfully the hoardings distinguish between the characteristic features of various localities._

* * * * *

Illustration: A LONG-FELT WANT.

THE SOCIETY FOR THE PREVENTION OF CRUELTY TO MOTOR-CYCLES.

* * * * *

POLITICS AT THE ZOO.

Lord ROBERT CECIL'S comparison of the occupants of the Treasury Bench to the monkeys at the Zoo has caused considerable excitement in Regent's Park, and one of _Mr. Punch's_ representatives, assisted by an interpreter, has taken the opportunity to sound some of the principal inmates on the subject.

In the Simian section a certain amount of regret was expressed that Lord ROBERT had not been more explicit in his comparison. Did he refer to chimpanzees, baboons, gorillas or other species? But when all allowance was made for this lack of precision the general impression was one of satisfaction that a leading politician should have frankly admitted that monkeys possessed qualities which entitled their human possessors to high office and handsome salaries. It was felt that this admission marked a great advance on all previous concessions to the claims of the Simian community, and pointed irresistibly to the ultimate grant--already long overdue--of Monkey Franchise throughout the Empire.

Baboons, it was well known, were already employed as railway porters in Cape Colony, and chimpanzees had of late years appeared with great success at some of the leading music-halls. In view of these facts the further delay of the suffrage could no longer be justified. At present we were confronted with the gross anomaly that a tailor, who was admitted to be only the ninth part of a man, was given a vote, while the monkey, man's ancestor, was denied even the fraction which was all that a tailor deserved.

These views however were not shared by other _genera_ domiciled at the Zoological Gardens. One of the oldest lions observed in a strepitous bass that it was a great relief to him that his race had not been degraded by any such comparisons. He had some respect for hunters, but as for politicians he would not be seen dead with them at a pig fair. Asked whether he had read Mr. RAMSAY MACDONALD'S account of his lion-hunting exploits, in _The Daily Chronicle_, he professed ignorance and even indifference. Speaking as an aristocrat he thought that a Labour leader was not worthy to twist his tail. As for the conduct of Mr. BERNARD SHAW in bringing lions on the stage, he thought it little short of an outrage for an anæmic vegetarian to take liberties with the king of the carnivora.

Considerable resentment was shown in the Ursine encampment at Mr. LLOYD GEORGE'S somewhat disparaging reference to the bear's hug. (It will be remembered that he compared with it the attitude of the Tories in respect of the Finance Bill.) The CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER evidently regarded it as an insincere caress, whereas it was a perfectly honest expression of hostility. This attack was all the more unjust and undeserved since the bear was a most hardworking and underpaid member of the community. When a politician reached the top of the poll he got £400 a year. When a bear did the same he only got a penny bun.

A conversation with a leading representative of the colony of Penguins revealed the interesting fact that they were incapable of appreciating our Parliamentary procedure owing to their hereditary inability to sit down.

* * * * *

Illustration: _Mr. Punch's_ HOLIDAY PAGES.

* * * * *

THE PRIMA DONNA.

[_The repertoire of Summer is here made to embrace the prelude of many good things that come within the wider scope of the holiday season._]

Good gentlemen, good gentlemen, we crave your kind attention! Here's Summer, at your service (till you bid the lady stop); Good gentlemen, she's songs for you--'tis time to drop dissension; 'Tis time to cut the cackle and to close awhile the shop; For stags shall be in Badenoch, and Kent hath twined the hop.

Yes, songs for every son o' you, and all have silver linings! Good gentlemen, good gentlemen, it's close, your London air; If I'm mixing up the proverbs, 'tis because my roads run shining Through the fret of far-off pine-woods, and I'm wishful to be there; Or at hand among the hop-poles when the vines are trailing fair.

Good gentlemen, the prologue! Here's a programme most attractive: She's songs for everyone o' you--oh, rare the tunes and rich! Here's hackneyed _Devon Harbours_ (but the pollock's biting active); Here's _Evening_ (rise in Hampshire); here's _The Roller on the Pitch_; And music in the lot o' them--it doesn't matter which.

We've long _White Roads o' Brittany_ and pretty _Wayside Posies_, _Blue Bays_ (beneath the undercliff--the white sails crawling by); We've _Rabbits in a Hedgerow_ (how the bustling Clumber noses); We've _Grouse Across the Valley_ (crashing crumpled from the sky); And magic's in each note of her--it doesn't matter why.

Here's _Salmon Songs_ and _Shrimping Songs_, according to your pocket; Here's _Hopping_ (with a lurcher--twice as useful as a gun For the fat young August pheasants that'll never live to rocket); Here's a jolly _Song o' Golf Balls_; here's the tune of _Cubs that Run_; We've something for each Jack o' you, for every mother's son.

Good gentlemen, good gentlemen, we crave your kind permission! Here's Summer, at your service, and she'd sing you on your ways The marching songs of morning and the Road that fits the Vision, The mellow songs of twilight and the gold September haze; God rest you all, good gentlemen, and send you pleasant days.

* * * * *

Illustration: THE VOGUE FOR WEARING FANCY DRESS THREATENS TO INVADE ORDINARY SOCIAL LIFE.

TENNIS AT THE VICARAGE.

A JOLLY BATHING PARTY.

* * * * *

Illustration: OUR DEAR OLD FRIEND, THE FOREIGN SPY (CUNNINGLY DISGUISED AS A GOLFER), VISITS OUR YOUNGEST SUBURB ONE SATURDAY AFTERNOON IN QUEST OF FURTHER EVIDENCE OF OUR LETHARGY, GENERAL DECADENCE AND FALLING BIRTH-RATE. HE GETS A SHOCK AND AT ONCE TELEGRAPHS TO HIS COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF URGING THAT THE CONQUEST OF THE BRITISH ISLES BE UNDERTAKEN BEFORE THE PRESENT GENERATION IS MANY YEARS OLDER.

* * * * *

Illustrations: THE INTRUSIONS OF THE CINEMA.

[Jones, secretary to the South Sea Islanders' Regeneration Society, who is suffering from nerves, is recommended a very remote sea-coast retreat for his summer holiday. With his wife and family he tries it. The manager of a certain cinema company likewise chooses this particular spot for his company to rehearse their powerful new drama, "Down among the Dead Men."]

_Miss Jones._ "WAKE UP, DAD, WE'RE GOING TO BATHE."

_First Act of the Drama._--AFTER THE WRECK: DESMOND AND ROSEMARY WASHED ASHORE ON THE CANNIBAL ISLAND.

* * *

_Jones (to the rescue)._ "DEVILS! FIENDS! UNTIE THAT WHITE MAN!"

* * *

_The Cinema Manager explains._ "SORRY TO HAVE CAUSED YOU ANY INCONVENIENCE, SIR--MERELY REHEARSING 'DOWN AMONG THE DEAD MEN'--DAM FINE DRAMA, SIR--WE PRODUCE SAME AT THE OPERA 'OUSE, CROYDON, ON THE 16TH."

* * * * *

Illustration: _Surf-rider._ "I'M ALMOST SURE THIS ISN'T A BIT THE WAY IT'S DONE IN THOSE ILLUSTRATED PAPERS!"

* * * * *

Illustration: _Early Tripper._ "MAKES YER FEEL LIKE OLE NAPOLEON AT WHAT'S-ITS-NAME!"

* * * * *

Illustration: APT NOMENCLATURE IN OUR GARDEN SUBURB.

* * * * *

Illustration: _The Captain._ "THE BLOOMIN' VICE-PRESIDENT'S FORGOT THE STUMPS. YOUNG BILL 'ERE BETTER BE THE WICKET--'E WANTS TO PLAY AND 'E'S TOO LITTLE TO BAT AGIN SWIFT BOWLIN'!"

* * * * *

Illustration: _Native_ (_having seen his rival tipped by guileless visitor_). "'E'S SWINDLED YER, SIR. I'M THE OLDEST INHABITANT--NINETY-FOUR COME SUNDAY THREE WEEKS. 'E'S ONLY A YOUNGSTER OF EIGHTY-TWO."

* * * * *

Illustration: EVEN IN HIS PLAY THE SCIENTIST'S CHILD IS SCIENTIFIC.

* * * * *

Illustration: THE POLITICAL JUNGLE.

* * * * *

Illustration: A FULL JOY-DAY.

How an energetic visitor contrived to sample nearly all the attractions of Worplethorpe-on-Sea (as advertised by the municipality) in the course of a one-day's trip.

_9 to 10.30 A.M._--BATHING AND FISHING.

_10.30 A.M. to 12 (noon)._--SHOOTING AND CYCLING.

_12 to 1.30 P.M._--TENNIS AND BOTANY.

_3 to 4.30 P.M._--CROQUET AND ARCHÆOLOGY.

_4.30 to 6 P.M._--GOLF AND GEOLOGY.

_6 to 7.30 P.M._--SKETCHING AND DONKEY-RIDING.

* * * * *

Illustration: RACE-COURSE OF THE NEAR FUTURE, SUFFRAGETTE-PROOF.

* * * * *

Illustration: SMITH, WHO ALWAYS WEARS THE NATIVE COSTUME WHEN FISHING IN THE HIGHLANDS (HIS GREAT-GRAND-AUNT'S STEP-FATHER HAVING BEEN A McGREGOR) FINDS THE MIDGES SOMEWHAT TROUBLESOME. A LITTLE INGENUITY HOWEVER OVERCOMES THE DIFFICULTY.

* * * * *

Illustration: THE "SPASMO" CANOELET.

IT IS A RELUCTANT STARTER.

WHEN IT _DOES_ START, IT STARTS.

IT LAUGHS AT LOCKS.

IT ENDS AS A HYDRO-AEROPLANE.

* * * * *

Illustration: THE EMANCIPATION OF THE EAST.

THE GRAND VIZIER, A MASTER OF POLYGAMY, REGRETS THE VOGUE OF THE CINEMA AS AN EDUCATIVE FORCE.

* * * * *

Illustration: LUNCH "SCORES."

* * * * *

COMPLAINTS ARE HEARD FROM HOLIDAY-MAKERS ON THEIR RETURN THAT THE HOLIDAY HAS FAILED TO BENEFIT THEM. THIS IS DUE TO LACK OF PREPARATORY TRAINING AT HOME.

Illustration: HARDEN THE FEET FOR BEACH-WALKING.

Illustration: ACCUSTOM THE LUNGS TO MARINE AROMAS.

Illustration: PREPARE TO RECEIVE THE BUFFETINGS OF NEPTUNE.

Illustration: TOUGHEN THE INTERIOR FOR A LODGING-HOUSE DIET.

* * * * *

MR. PUNCH'S HOLIDAY FILM.

[Having had the good fortune to pick up for a mere song (or, to be more accurate, for a few notes) several thousand miles of discarded cinema films from a bankrupt company, _Mr. Punch_ is gumming the best bits together and presenting them during the holiday season on the piers of many of our fashionable watering-places, such as Bayswater, Hackney Marshes and Ponder's End. The films comprise the well-known "Baresark Basil, the Pride of the Ranch" (two miles long), "The Foiler Foiled" (one mile, three furlongs, two rods, poles or perches), "The Blood-stained Vest" (fragment--eighteen inches), "A Maniac's Revenge" (5,000 feet), "The Life of the Common Mosquito" (six legs), and so forth. An accomplished writer has been chosen to weave a connected story round the selected parts of the films, and his scenario of _Mr. Punch's_ great picture play, when finally gummed together, is given below. The illustrations depict a few representative incidents in the story--taken from the sketch-book of an artist who was present when the films were first being prepared.]

Twenty-five years before our film opens, Andrew Bellingham, a young man just about to enter his father's business, was spending a holiday in a little fishing village in Cornwall. The daughter of the sheep-farmer with whom he lodged was a girl of singular beauty, and Andrew's youthful blood was quickly stirred to admiration. Carried away by his passion for her, he--

[MANAGER OF PUNCH FILM COMPANY. _Just a reminder that MR. REDFORD has to pass this before it can be produced._]

--he married her--

[MANAGER. _Oh, I beg pardon._]

--and for some weeks they lived happily together. One day he informed Jessie that he would have to go back to his work in London, and that it might be a year or more before he could acknowledge her openly as his wife to his rich and proud parents. Jessie was prostrated with grief; and late that afternoon her hat and fringe-net were discovered by the edge of the waters. Realising at once that she must have drowned herself in her distress, Andrew took an affecting farewell of her father and the sheep, and returned to London. A year later he married a distant cousin, and soon rose to a condition of prosperity. At the time our film begins to unwind, he was respected by everybody in the City, a widower, and the father of a beautiful girl of eighteen, called Hyacinth.

[MANAGER. _Now we're off. What do we start with?_]

I.

On the sunny side of Fenchurch Street--

[MANAGER. _Ah, then I suppose we'd better keep back the Rescue from the Alligator and the Plunge down Niagara in a Barrel._]

--Andrew Bellingham was dozing in his office. Suddenly he awoke to find a strange man standing over him.

"Who are you?" asked Mr. Bellingham. "What do you want?"

"My name is Jasper," was the answer, "and I have some information to give you." He bent down and hissed, "_Your first wife is still alive!_"

Andrew started up in obvious horror. "My daughter," he gasped, "my little Hyacinth! She must never know."

"Listen. Your wife is in Spain--

[MANAGER. _Don't waste her. Make it somewhere where there are sharks._

AUTHOR. _It's all right, she's dead really._]

--and she will not trouble you. Give me a thousand pounds, and you shall have these;" and he held out a packet containing the marriage certificate, a photograph of Jessie's father dipping a sheep, a receipted bill for a pair of white gloves, size 9-1/2, two letters signed "Your own loving little Andy Pandy", and a peppermint with "Jess" on it in pink. "Once these are locked up in your safe, no one need never know that you were married in Cornwall twenty-five years ago."

Without a moment's hesitation Mr. Bellingham took a handful of bank-notes from his pocket-book, and the exchange was made. At all costs he must preserve his little Hyacinth from shame. Now she need never know. With a forced smile he bowed Jasper out, placed the packet in his safe and returned to his desk.

Illustration: The Theft.

But his mysterious visitor was not done with yet. As soon as the door had closed behind him Jasper re-entered softly, drugged Andrew hastily, and took possession again of the compromising documents. By the time Mr. Bellingham had regained his senses the thief was away. A hue-and-cry was raised, police whistles were blown, and Richard Harrington, Mr. Bellingham's private secretary, was smartly arrested.

At the trial things looked black against Richard. He was poor and he was in love with Hyacinth; the chain of evidence was complete. In spite of his impassioned protest from the dock, in spite of Hyacinth's dramatic swoon in front of the solicitors' table, the judge with great solemnity passed sentence of twenty years' penal servitude. A loud "Hear, hear" from the gallery rang through the court, and, looking up, Mr. Bellingham caught the sardonic eye of the mysterious Jasper.

II.

Richard had been in prison a month before the opportunity for his escape occurred. For a month he had been hewing stone in Portland, black despair at his heart. Then, like lightning, he saw his chance and took it. The warders were off guard for a moment. Hastily lifting his pickaxe----

[MANAGER. _Sorry, but it's a spade in the only prison film we've got._]

Hastily borrowing a spade from a comrade who was digging potatoes, he struck several of his gaolers down, and, dodging the shots of others who hurried to the scene, he climbed the prison wall and dashed for freedom.

Illustration: The Escape.

Reaching Weymouth at nightfall, he made his way to the house which Hyacinth had taken in order to be near him, and, suitably disguised, travelled up to London with her in the powerful motor which she had kept ready. "At last, my love, we are together," he murmured as they neared Wimbledon. But he had spoken a moment too soon. An aeroplane swooped down upon them, and Hyacinth was snatched from his arms and disappeared with her captors into the clouds.

Illustration: The Abduction.

III.

Richard's first act on arriving in London was to go to Mr. Bellingham's house. Andrew was out, but a note lying on his study carpet, "_Meet me at the Old Windmill to-night_," gave him a clue. On receipt of this note Andrew had gone to the _rendezvous_, and it was no surprise to him when Jasper stepped out and offered to sell him a packet containing a marriage certificate, a photograph of an old gentleman dipping a sheep, a peppermint lozenge with "Jess" on it, and various other documents for a thousand pounds.

"You villain," cried Andrew, "even at the trial I suspected you," and he rushed at him fiercely.