Chapter 2

It has struck everyone out here, sooner or later, that it is easy enough to do the thing if only one could know at the moment what is the thing to do. Here was a sentry whose whole recent education had been devoted to learning exactly how to deal with new and unwelcome arrivals. He was furnished for that very purpose with a rifle having a carefully sharpened bayonet at one end of it and a nice new bullet at the other. There he was, all prepared to deal with an emergency, and there was the emergency confronting him. Having had a good look at it, he contented himself with saying "_Halt! wer da?_" adding as an afterthought a threatening move forward.

On the other hand, here was our friend, young and vigorous, in full possession of all his faculties, too surprised to be even alarmed. His first tendency was to pass haughtily on or, at the most, to stop and tell the man to be more respectful when addressing an officer. His second was to call to mind, in a confused mess, all the brilliant and dashing things a hero of fiction would, without a moment's hesitation, have done in the circumstances. Lastly, it was borne in on him that this was indeed a German; that all Germans were, under the new arrangement, sworn to do in all Englishmen at sight, and that he himself was, beneath his mud, one of the last-named. Being rather the quicker-witted of the two, he had put in three thoughts to the other fellow's one; but the position showed no improvement in the result, and the enemy's second thought, slowly dawning, was obviously of a more practical and drastic nature. His undecided fidgeting with his rifle made this abundantly clear. No time was to be lost. Our friend realised dimly that at all costs he must conceal his nationality. This promised to be a matter of languages, never his strong point. But, there again, he was carefully prepared with a series of useful phrases in various tongues, which he had learnt up in small and inexpensive hand-books. The difficulty was to get on to the right one; his mind, having got him thus far, refused further assistance. Instead of furnishing him with the appropriate remark, it merely suggested to him a clearly defined picture of the outside of the text-book, particularly emphasizing the elegant but inept phrase, "One Shilling net at all Booksellers." And what was the use of that with the sentry's bayonet rapidly coming to the "On guard" position?

It's a long story, Charles, and it ended by our friend ingenuously stating by way of a seasonable ruse, "_Pardon, monsieur, je suis français._"

I'd prefer to leave it at that, but you are one of those detestable people who insist on going on after the climax. So I may as well tell you that at this point our friend's legs took to action on their own, no doubt remarking to themselves as they did so that this was but another instance of damned bad Staff work. I sometimes wonder whether possibly it isn't easier to be a limb than a brain.

Yours ever, HENRY.

* * * * *

MR. PUNCH'S POTTED FILMS. THE PASSIONATE DRAMA.

THE DEMON OF JEALOUSY.

* * * * *

* * * * *

LITERARY PITFALLS.

_The Chronicle_ publishes a most interesting letter received from Mr. G. B. BURGIN, who lately, if our memory serves us right, completed his fiftieth novel. He writes:--

"A hitch has arisen about the publication of my novel, _The Rubber Princess_. It deals with an air raid on London, etc., and it has been pointed out to me that if it appears before the War is over it will probably be suppressed, and that I shall be mulcted in pains and penalties. I have therefore withdrawn it and substituted (for the Spring), with Hutchinsons, _The Hut by the River_, of which I have great hopes. It is a Canadian romance, with a pretty love story and a nice little mystery at the end."

It will, we are sure, be a consolation to Mr. BURGIN, to whose agility and versatility we desire to render our homage, to learn that he is not singular in his experience.

Only a few days ago we received a letter from Mr. Bimbo Posh, the famous Suffolk realist, recounting the circumstances which have led to the postponement of his eagerly-expected romance, _The Synthetic Sovereign_.

It appears that Mr. Posh, a man of a most scientific imagination, assigned the _rôle_ of hero in his story to a marvellous automaton. Unfortunately for him he was not content with generalities, but described the process by which this artificial superman was produced in such minute detail that his publishers realised that it might be positively prejudicial to our safety to make it known. The sequel had best be told in Mr. Posh's own pathetic words:--

"At first I was fearfully upset, though convinced by the arguments of my publishers (Messrs. Longbow and Green-i'-th'-Eye). But a happy inspiration seized me as I was ascending the escalator at Charing Cross, and in exactly a fortnight I had finished another novel, entirely divorced from the present, entitled, _In Dear Old Daffy-land_. It is an idyllic story of Suffolk in the days of the Heptarchy, founded on an ancestral tradition of the Posh family. It runs to about 60,000 words, and Mr. Longbow, who read it at a sitting, thinks it the finest thing I have done."

Curiously enough, just as we go to press comes a letter from Miss Miriam Eldritch, apologising for the withdrawal of her volume of poems, _Attar of Roses_, in view of the fact that one of the leading establishments for the distilling of this perfume is in Bulgaria. Miss Eldritch, however, has proved fully equal to the occasion, for by a great effort she has composed, in little over one hundred hours, a cycle of one hundred lyrics, to which she has given the title, at once alluring and innocuous, of _Love in Lavender_.

* * * * *

"Perturbabantur Constantinopolitani Innumerabilibus sollicitudinibus."

["Constantinople is much perturbed." _Daily Press._]

In flouting Zeus and Themis, his Heart set on cheating Nemesis, The Constantinopolitan Now rues his impious blunders, And fears approaching thunders Trinitrotoluolitan.

* * * * *

"Gentleman's dark grey fur lined motor coat, fit fairly big man, lined with about 150 selected natural musquash skins, real Persian lamb collar, the property of a peer, in the pink of condition."--_The Bazaar._

We trust his lordship will remain so in spite of the inclemency of the weather.

* * * * *

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

(EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.)

THE LAST CHAPTER.

_House of Commons, Tuesday, 15th February._--After, on nomination of my revered master, Mr. Punch, representing Barkshire in the Commons during three reigns, under nine Parliaments, captained in succession by six Premiers, come to conclusion that I have earned the right to retire. Two ways of voluntarily vacating a seat. One by a call to the Lords. The other by application for Chiltern Hundreds. Not having heard anything about the Peerage, have adopted latter course. The MEMBER FOR SARK, loyal to the last, insists on following my example.

Accordingly, when House meets to-morrow, writs will be moved for elections to fill two vacancies. In ordinary times this would lead to interesting episode. Customary for the Chief Party Whip to move for writ to fill casual vacancies in his ranks. Would the Ministerial Whip or the Opposition Whip come forward to take preliminary step for elections consequent on retirement of the MEMBER FOR BARKS and the MEMBER FOR SARK?

The closest observer of Parliamentary procedure or comment is not sure whether in Party politics they are Liberals or Conservatives. Cannot indeed say on which side of the House they sit. As it happens there is at this doubly memorable date no division of parties, consequently no contending Whips. Writs for Barks and Sark will accordingly be appropriately moved by Whip representing united House.

Thirty-five years ago Barks first sent me to Westminster. Of Cabinet Ministers then seated on Treasury Bench none are alive to-day. GLADSTONE, just returned by overwhelming majority, was Premier; GRANVILLE, with consummate skill and dainty humour, led minority supporting Government in House of Lords; HARCOURT was at the Home Office; HARTINGTON, Secretary of State for War; CHILDERS at the Treasury; KIMBERLEY at the India Office; at the Irish Office FORSTER, with his rumpled hair, his rugged speech and his gruff manner, "the best Stage Yorkshireman of his time."

Much history has been made since that time. Procedure in the Commons has been revolutionised, with the result not only of accelerating ordinary business and leading to final issue controversies futilely raging for years, but radically altering personal tone and manner of Mother of Parliaments.

That is another story, too lengthy to be told here. Glad to know I was intimately acquainted with the House and, with rare exceptions, with the principal personages in either political camp through a long stretch of older, more picturesque time.

I close the Diary here, not because I am tired of writing it, nor, as continuous testimony indicates, because a generous public is tired of reading. But I am not disposed to linger superfluous on the stage. So I withdraw, carrying with me my little bag of tricks, the sententious Dog, the cynical SARK and the rest of the contents.

Henceforward some new form will be given to the "Essence of Parliament" which was created by SHIRLEY BROOKS, and enlivened by the hand of TOM TAYLOR.

_Business done._--TOBY, M.P.'S.

* * * * *

A DIRTY NIGHT.

THE night is starless, with a darkness so enveloping that it seems to possess palpability. As we reel westward in a smother of water the miracle of how any human being equipped with but five senses can find and keep his course in the chartless void that envelops us smites me afresh.

A longing for an atmosphere unimpregnated with petrol eventually sends me stumbling up the companion-way to the deck. Gripping the rail, I make my way forward, and, peering through the mirk, distinguish a huddled figure in a sou'wester. Aloof, detached, he steers the shrewdest, swiftest path ever carved through a wall of blackness on behalf of dependent fellow-creatures.

"A wild night," I shout.

He turns slightly and answers in a hoarse bellow, "The better for us, mister. Keeps the track clear. Ought to get in ahead o' time."

The yellow glare from our lights glances in broken splashes of colour over the waters, as the squat craft heaves and rolls with rhythmic regularity. From somewhere below comes the monotonous throb of the protesting engines. A red light gleams suddenly on our starboard, and I catch my breath. Æons pass, it seems, before a panther-like clutch at the wheel carries us aside in time to let the offender plunge drunkenly past. We were near enough to throw a biscuit on her deck. A swift exchange of badinage follows.

"Lost yer job o' puntin' coal-barges?"

"Yuss--they're usin' donkey-power instead. I give in your name 'fore I left, but they 'adn't a spare stable." After which, the immediate danger past, we plough our way down a blurred track on either side of which lurks Peril in a hundred grim and invisible shapes.

The temperature, already low, has begun to drop steadily, and a fine drizzle yields to a penetrating chilliness which finds its way to one's very marrow. I am glad of my heavy wraps, and inclined, indeed, to envy the huddled figure, whose coverings are still heavier. Inwardly I wonder what this clashing of the Nations has meant to him: whether he has wife and children; whether he keeps their portraits in some deep-buried pocket beneath that accumulation of clothing which engulfs him to the ear-tips.

I am still speculating when a second figure, moving with the easy gait of one whose feet have trodden many decks, climbs the companion-way and comes forward in leisurely fashion. The fellow is no stranger; already, as I came on board, I had a glimpse of that grizzled, masterful jaw and keen eyes. He peers past me towards his mate.

"Elf!"

"Yuss?"

"Seed anyfink o' young 'Arry lately?'

"Not me!"

"Well, I 'ear 'e done a bit in the lead-slingin' line at a place called Wipers, an' they've been an' stuck some sort o' French medal on 'is chest."

"Blighter owes me fourpence, anyway," roars Elf; and I infer that neither of them has a high opinion of 'Arry's character from the civilian point of view.

Follows an interval filled with small confused sounds--the staccato note of a bell, the soft thud of a passenger's body as he is jerked unexpectedly against the rail, the picturesque ripple of his expostulations with Providence.

A lamp, burning with unusual and illegal garishness, gives me light enough to examine my watch. It indicates the proximity of midnight. I realize that I am incredibly stiff and cold, and am tormented by visions of unattainable comforts.

At last I am conscious of a line of dimmed lights, of a distant roar of escaping steam, of a violent quivering motion that indicates the slackening of speed. We come to a sudden halt. The voice of Elf rises triumphant.

"Bill!"

"Yuss?"

"Two minutes arter!"

"Knowed we'd do it!"

And as I stumble blindly forth it is borne upon me that the last Ealing motor-bus has ended her journey with five minutes to spare.

* * * * *

"Egypt is placidly awaiting the event, with the absolute conviction that the Turks and Germans will get the boating of their lives in the Sinai Desert."--_Civil and Military Gazette._

They certainly won't get it on the Suez Canal.

* * * * *

A MODEST SUGGESTION FOR A NEW HUNNISH CANTICLE.

"KAISER WANTS NEW NATIONAL HYMN." "_Westminster Gazette_" _Heading._

"He shall have it."--_Mr. Punch._

GOD of our Fathers, God of old, Who hast for us such sympathy, Cast as Thou art in German mould, Again we raise our voice to Thee: Omnipotence, we need Thy hand In air, on sea, canal and land!

The English (who, Thou knowest, hide Contemptibly upon an isle) No doubt on Thee have also cried, According to their native guile; Presumption could no further go In those who plunged the world in woe.

Thou wouldst not hearken to a race Possessed of that inhuman Fleet, So cruel, arrogant and base, So steeped in rancour and deceit. 'Twas they, remember, they alone, Who forced this Burden on Thine own!

Bless, rather, us! our arms! our cause! Pour on us Thy protecting love! Sanction our fractures of Thy laws, By U,s beneath, by Zeps above! Relieve us in this dark impasse; Bless all our efforts; bless our gas!

Deal gently with us should we tend-- Presuming as Thy favoured Race, All flushed to own so great a Friend-- To dereliction into grace! Deal gently with us, Lord, should we Once deviate to decency!

And Him, from Whom such blessings flow, Our WILHELM, first of Sons of Light, Whose one ambition is to show Mankind the rightfulness of Might; Bless Him, and forward His device To make an Earthly Paradise!

And should some other star up there (For all the stellar space is Thine) Demand Thy more immediate care, And thus divert Thee from the Rhine, Thou need'st but mention it, and He Thy Viceroy hero will gladly be!

* * * * *

"WANT OF FOOD.

Salonika.

On returning to Salonika after an absence of a month, I find the situation much relieved as a result of the deportation of the enemy Consuls and the energetic measures adopted to clear the town of the numerous pies previously infesting it."--_Provincial Paper._

The headline seems justified.

* * * * *

"I bought a brochure, which explained that the Emperor was not physically ill, but his metal condition was upset owing to the war."

_Evening Paper._

Another allusion, we suppose, to the depreciation of the Mark.

* * * * *

"Lord Crewe and Lord Lansdowne have addressed the following Whip to the members of the House of Lords: On February 15 an address will be moved in the House of Lords in answer to His Majesty's Speech. We venture to express the hope that Your Majesty will find it possible to attend in your place on that day."--_Yorkshire Evening Post._

We have heard of the Sovereign People, but the Sovereign Peers are new to us.

* * * * *

"In the course of the match, Brelsford, the United half-back, and Glennon, the Wednesday forward, were ordered off the field for fighting. Upwards of 16,000 spectators witnessed the match."--_Birmingham Post._

Mr. Punch will gladly furnish any of the players, or eligibles amongst the 16,000 spectators, with the address of a field where fighters will certainly not be "ordered off."

* * * * *

"ANIMALS AND ZEPPELIN NOISES.

SIR,--The dat is affected by all sounds, according to its weakness or its strength."

_Morning Paper._

We have often noticed the same thing about the cog.

* * * * *

"TYPIST and Shorthand Clerk.--Required at once for invoicing a young lady, accustomed to the drapery trade preferred."

_Daily Chronicle._

Not an easy post. Some young ladies are so unaccountable.

* * * * *

"Washington, Jany. 17.--Mrs. Emmeline Pankhurst the suffragette leader now under parole in New York will be formally admitted to the United States soon after her papers reach Washington. President Wilson is opposed to her execution."--_Bermuda Colonist._

A merciful man, this WILSON.

* * * * *

* * * * *

A CONTROVERSY.

(_From Our Own Correspondent in America._)

I.

YESTERDAY President WILSON addressed a monster gathering of business men at Ponkapog. He said that it was a cruel misconception to hold that Americans were without ideals. As a matter of fact they cherished their ideals far beyond any question of making money and would die rather than submit to acts which were an outrage on our common humanity. In declaring that there was such a thing as being too proud to fight he had, of course, meant that there was such a thing as being only too proud to fight for what was just and right. This was the American attitude, and he therefore advocated national preparedness which might possibly imply such an increase in America's naval and military forces as few people except himself had yet dreamt of. At this point the audience rose _en masse_ and cheered for ten minutes. Nothing could show more clearly than this speech how intensely critical are the relations between America and Germany over the _Lusitania_ case. There has been a wild panic on the New York Stock Exchange. A prominent banker has expressed the opinion that Count BERNSTORFF will receive his passports to-morrow.

II.

Count BERNSTORFF has not called on Mr. LANSING to-day. This is considered a symptom of the utmost gravity, and the exchange value of the German mark has receded ten points.

III.

Count BERNSTORFF was closeted with Mr. LANSING for two hours this afternoon. Relations are evidently strained to a very dangerous point, and the worst is feared.

IV.

The situation has appreciably improved, and the controversy has been narrowed down to the use or omission of the word "illegality." The American Government insist that Germany should admit the illegality of the torpedoing of the _Lusitania_, but for this Germany is not yet prepared, though she is willing to make a formal expression of regret at the death of American citizens, whom, she is ready to declare, she did not intend to destroy. Colonel ROOSEVELT spoke last night at the dinner of the Associated Progressive Manufacturers. He said no touch of infancy or feebleness had been omitted by the present Administration in their conduct of negotiations with Germany. They had performed the miracle of causing every true American to blush for his country. When you met a rattlesnake you didn't waste time in arguing with it or flattering it. Your duty was to shoot it or knock it on the head, or, preferably, to employ both methods in order to rid the world of a danger. At this vigorous denunciation the whole audience rose and cheered for a quarter of an hour.

V.

The situation is easier. Count BERNSTORFF has declared in an interview that the German Government is prepared to accept the American formula if the word "legality" be substituted for the word "illegality." Germany would thus admit the legality of the torpedoing of the _Lusitania_ and express regret at the death of American citizens. Count BERNSTORFF points out that Germany has thus gone very far towards meeting the American demand. He hopes and believes that two great civilized nations will not fall out over so small a matter as the use or omission of the two letters _i_, _l_, at the beginning of a long word.

VI.

Mr. LANSING has in a polite note expressed himself unable to accept Count BERNSTORFF'S offer as a full satisfaction of America's demands. The sands are evidently running out, and there is serious danger of the negotiations proving abortive. In the meantime a sharp Note has been addressed to England in regard to her interference with American commerce. Six munition works were yesterday blown up. The outrage is attributed to Germans. President WILSON is carefully considering his action.

* * * * *

* * * * *

The "Lusitania" Crisis.

"The Vienna Correspondence Bureau emphasises the gravity of the situation, and says that the negotiations are interrupted. This interruption, it is added, is as it came from the cow." _Yorkshire Post._

Not, as you might have expected, from the WOLFF.

* * * * *

"To prevent the eyes watering when peeling onions, let the tap drip on them. This keeps the fumes from rising, and if wanted for frying they can easily be dried in a cloth afterwards."--_The Matron._

Thanks, but we hardly ever want to fry our eyes.

* * * * *

"The Primate had the novel and undesirable experience of being shelled by the enemy, one shell in fact bursting within twenty-five yards of him. The arrangements for this part of his visit were mostly made by the Rev. ----, C.F."--_Northern Whig._

Humorous fellows, these Army chaplains.

* * * * *

"FOR SALE.--Imported, fresh arrival of Japanese Poodles, very handsome, with a long silken hair, smart, and pick up anything taught. Rs. 200 per pair."--_Times of India._

"And beauty draws us with a single hair."

* * * * *