Chapter 2

And so the hideous carnage proceeded. Grasmere, Aberystwith, Stratford-on-Avon, Freshwater Bay and the Lizard--with dreadful precision these teeming hives of English industry were laid waste, incinerated, scattered to the winds in fine impalpable dust. I thought sadly of the brave men in khaki that were being cut off by the thousand in their prime (for the gallant Captain had taken the utmost precaution not to drop any of his bombs in the neighbourhood of non-combatants). But, after all, I mused, they will soon be replaced by intelligent Germans, a blessing that civilization will not be slow to appreciate.

At this moment the Captain approached me with an object in his hand. "You neutrals," he said, "have been deceived before now by the ridiculous reports disseminated by our enemies as to the results of these raids. But here is the proof." He then explained to me that to every Zeppelin was attached a large sinker or plummet, which was covered with grease and lowered from a drum to a few yards above the spot where the bomb was destined to fall. To this plummet adhered fragments of various objects, animate or other, which the explosion of the missile hurled into the air. Such a fragment the Captain was now extending for my observation. I admitted that to my uninitiated eye it closely resembled a portion of the outer surface of a cow or some kindred animal. "You are indeed ignorant," said my host, smiling in the same enigmatic way. "The object is undoubtedly a fragment of the propeller shaft of a large vessel, which satisfies me that at Swanage, where our last bomb was dropped, a portion of the High Seas Fleet was anchored. And as a matter of fact," he added, producing a small dark object from his pocket, "here is a part of Sir JOHN JELLICOE'S necktie. Notice how precisely it tallies with the descriptions furnished by our secret agents, one of whom is actually engaged about the Admiral's person disguised as a pastry-cook."

Here, then, was the proof. One could not doubt the evidence of one's senses. But mine had been subjected to an unusual test that night, and when the Captain, well satisfied with his night's work, courteously invited me to have another glass of schnapps with him I accepted with alacrity. The glass was hardly at my lips when an orderly announced that we were at anchor in the shed. Thanking the brave Captain for the most wonderful experience of a not uninteresting lifetime, I hurried away to my hotel and fell into a deep slumber. When I awoke late that afternoon my manservant placed in my hand the last edition of the London _Times_. It stated that there had been a Zeppelin raid, and that 19 civilians, three cows, four churches, two rows of cottages, one omnibus, and no soldiers had been destroyed.

I smiled--enigmatically.

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"Socialist Working Man, aged 25, would welcome companionship of Socialist exempted conscientious objector, chiefly for week-end cycling; or athletic lady holding similar views would suit, residing North Kent area." _Socialist Paper._

It would be much better for him to meet an athletic lady not holding similar views.

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THE OCC. POET'S APOLOGIA.

Where the moon's unmitigated crescent, Sailing through the amethystine deeps, With a smile sardonic and senescent Down upon our Armageddon peeps; Thither, drawn by sympathy ecstatic, Like a shooting star my spirit flies From the company of gross, lymphatic Souls entangled by terrestrial ties.

Where the sombre azimuths are booming, Flecked with argent elemental foam, And the stately colocynths are blooming In a salicylic monochrome; There, transported on pellucid pinions, Sick of common sense I seek repose, Far from the disconsolate dominions Tainted by the tyranny of prose.

O'er the whole translunar gamut ranging. There my astral body slides and skims, Choriambic melodies exchanging With the apolaustic cherubims; Weaving in a polyphonic pattern Harmonies that mock at clefs and bars; Toying with the shining rings of Saturn, Throwing star-dust in the eyes of Mars.

There, suspended in a sumptuous limbo, Like a happier version of the boy Drawn by Mr. BLACKWOOD in his _Jimbo_, I shall taste of bliss without alloy; Other minstrels may indulge in fighting, I myself cannot so far forget As to shun the raptures of inditing Occ. verse for the _Bestspinster Gazette_.

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For our "Glimpses of the Obvious":

"An interesting feature in the prone trees was that they all fell in one direction, showing the direction from which the blast came." _Morning Paper._

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"So soft and loose was the earth that the trench walls had to be rivetted." _Daily Sketch._

A very curious treatment. Personally we always use a safety-pin.

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"Inquiries are being received at Lloyds for insurance to pay total loss in case of peace being declared during the present war." _Montreal Gazette._

We ourselves should take our chance of this contingency.

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"The total import value of matches is less than £1,000,000 per annum, and if £2,000,000 is to be collected, it will make matches 6d. or even more per dozen."--_Daily Chronicle._

Mr. MCKENNA surely cannot have realized this.

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

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MORE EYE-WASH.

Whene'er I see some high brass-hatted man Inspect the Depôt with his ribboned train, When all seems spick and absolutely span And no man spits and nothing gives him pain, I think what blissful ignorance is theirs Who only see us on inspection days, And wonder, could they catch us unawares, Would they be still so eloquent of praise?

They think the soldiers are a cleanly type, For all their brass is bright with elbow-fat, Burnished their bayonets and oiled their hyp; Do they suppose they always look like that? They see the quarters beautiful and gay, Yet never realise, with all their lore, Those bright new beds were issued yesterday And will to-morrow be returned to store.

They doubtless say, "Was ever drill so deft? Were ever rifles so precisely sloped? Observe that section change direction left So much, much better than the best we hoped;" But little know with what grim enterprise For week on week that clever-looking crew Have practised up for their especial eyes The sole manoeuvre they can safely do.

And I could tell where many a canker gnaws Within the walls they fancy free from sin; I know how officers infringe their laws, I know the corners where the men climb in; I know who broke the woodland fence to bits And what platoon attacked the Shirley cow, While the dull Staff, for all their frantic chits, Know not the truth of that distressing row.

These are the things I think they should be taught, But, since I know what ages must elapse, What forms be filled, what signatures be sought, Ere I have speech with such exalted chaps, I here announce that they are much misled, That they should see us when we think them far, Should steal upon us, all unheralded, And find what frauds, what awful frauds we are.

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"I was astonished that not a Londoner raised a cheer for the fine Bankers' Battalion of the Fusiliers which marched through the City to-day. We are really absurdly shy." _"Quex Junior" in "Evening News," April 15._

"The older comrades, who are keeping banks going in the absence of the younger patriots, turned out to cheer their comrades." _"Evening News," same date._

The older bankers, we must presume, are all from the provinces, and not so shy.

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[With Mr. Punch's apologies to a noble animal.]]

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ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

_Monday, April 17th._--The hon. Member who described the present Parliamentary situation as "a cabal every afternoon and a crisis every second day" is justified of his epigram. The lobbies this afternoon were full of agitated whisperers, with much talk of a divided Cabinet and this and that Minister on the brink of resignation, because they cannot agree upon the number of men they want for the Army or the best method of obtaining them. All of which must be very comforting to our enemies.

Some anxiety is felt on the Treasury Bench owing to the marked shortage of Members from Ireland. Hitherto, whenever the Government has seemed to be in danger, Mr. REDMOND'S followers have trooped over from Dublin to the rescue. But to-day most of them are absent. Some attribute their defection to chagrin at their shortsightedness in resisting the appointment of Mr. CAMPBELL as Lord Chancellor of Ireland. As Attorney-General they fear he will exert a much more potent influence in Irish affairs.

Faithful among the faithless, Mr. GINNELL was in his place. He is not interested in the troubles of the British Government. His present obsession is the alleged over-taxation of his own beloved country. In order that he might have due verge and scope to expatiate upon that grievance be pressed the PRIME MINISTER to arrange an early sitting on Wednesday and also to suspend the eleven o'clock rule. At this naïve suggestion the House relieved its tension with a hearty laugh.

How much truth there may be in the stories of Ministerial dissension I do not know; but there is undoubtedly a CAVE on the Treasury Bench. In the absence of the CHANCELLOR he took charge of the Report Stage of the Finance Bill, and very well he acquitted himself. Incidentally the SOLICITOR-GENERAL had the honour of bringing about a notable reconciliation. Among the few occupants of the Nationalist benches were Mr. DILLON and Mr. TIMOTHY HEALY, who for some years past have rarely met without a collision. Accordingly when Mr. DILLON had resisted a proposal to fine any visitor to an entertainment who did not pay the Amusements-tax, it was confidently expected that Mr. HEALY would find excellent reasons for asserting that this was the best clause in the whole Bill, and that only a melancholy humbug would oppose it. Instead he vigorously supported his former foe with an argument that I am sure Mr. DILLON would never have thought of. "Was it not a weird proposal," he asked, "that a child who had unwittingly walked; through a turnstile should forthwith become a convict and lose its Old-Age Pension?"

_Tuesday, April 18th._--When one has at last screwed up one's courage to have a tooth out, there is nothing more unnerving than to be told by the dentist that he cannot operate to-day and that one must come again to-morrow. The House of Commons felt like that this afternoon. Members had flocked from all parts of the kingdom--Nationalist Ireland excepted--to hear the PRIME MINISTER'S promised statement. Col. CHURCHILL, Lord HUGH CECIL (with a patch on his lofty brow denoting a recent casualty), and other warrior-statesmen had reluctantly torn themselves from the attractions of the trenches to do their duty at Westminster. The Ladies' Gallery was filled to overflowing.

Then the ominous word went round, "No statement to-day." Sure enough, when the PRIME MINISTER rose and hushed the buzz of conversation that had rendered Questions inaudible, it was merely to observe that there were still some points outstanding, that no statement would be adequate without their adjustment, and that he would therefore postpone his motion for the Easter adjournment until to-morrow. Sir EDWARD CARSON'S motion demanding compulsory service for all men of military age would, if necessary, be discussed on Thursday.

Members hastened out into the Lobby to chatter about the new phase of the crisis and to speculate as to what were the points outstanding, and whether the MINISTER OF MUNITIONS was or was not the prickliest of them. To the noise and flurry created by their exit Mr. MCKENNA owes it that his Finance Bill will appear in the Journals of the House as having been passed without a dissenting voice. Mr. WHITLEY, who was in the Chair, has not the commanding tones of Mr. LOWTHER, and when he put the question, "That this Bill be now read a Third time," nobody rose to speak. Accordingly he declared that the "Ays" had it; and though several Members then protested that they had not heard the question put, and urged that it should be put again, he politely but firmly declined to oblige them.

In an incautious moment yesterday Mr. TENNANT advised Mr. SNOWDEN to use his imagination. I should have thought the advice was superfluous, for, to judge by some of the stories that the Member for Blackburn is in the habit of retailing to the House regarding the persecution of conscientious objectors by callous N.C.O.'s, his imagination is working overtime. On the motion for the adjournment Mr. TENNANT had to listen to several more of them. He was rewarded for his patience by obtaining an unexpected testimonial from Mr. KING, who in his most patronising tones declared that he was sorry for the UNDER SECRETARY, who was really "a great deal better than the average man in the street."

In readiness for the PRIME MINISTER'S anticipated statement, Lord MILNER had put down a motion in the House of Lords in favour of compulsory service for all men of military age; and, despite the changed circumstances, he persisted in moving it, and made an admirable speech in its support. Lord CREWE, indeed, found it unanswerable for the time being, as Downing Street was "still thinking." He could not say when its thoughts would be resolved into decision, but hoped it might be to-morrow--or, if not to-morrow, Thursday--or, if not Thursday, then perhaps Monday. Lord CREWE has not sat at Mr. ASQUITH'S feet all these years without catching something of his methods.

_Wednesday, April 19th._--The House was even more crowded and anxious than yesterday. In the Peers' Gallery a dim figure, carrying a bunch of primroses and looking astonishingly like Mr. DENNIS EADIE, was heard to murmur, "I wonder whether England loves Coalitions any more than she did in my time." The present PRIME MINISTER appears to think that she does, for, after remarking that continued disagreement on material points threatened a breakup of the Government, he ventured to describe that contingency as a national disaster. The Liberals thought so too, and cheered loudly; the Unionists were not quite so sure, and Sir EDWARD CARSON, beside whom sat Col. CHURCHILL, looking as if he had never heard of Ulster, indicated that, while he would be the last man to refuse the Government time for repentance and reformation, he would in the meantime keep his Resolution on the Paper for use if necessary when the House met again.

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"WANTED. Reliable Woman to Wash Mondays, 2s. 6d. daily."--_Llanelly Star._

Some Mondays are so black.

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"War Work for capable open-air Woman of leisure. Wanted to help sister of man called up to run sole grocery shop in lovely country."--_Advt. in "The Times."_

Why wasn't he called up to fight?

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_The Observer_ rebuked _The Daily News_ for unkindness in remarking that at a certain point in the recent "Poets' Reading," Mr. BIRRELL, "who had been sitting with his head in his hands, looked up delighted." But was it quite nice of _The Observer_ itself to say in its account of the same function that "the Prime Minister looked in when the readings were in progress, and remained for some time talking with many friends"?

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THE PHILATELIST.

This was the day appointed, after considerable discussion, for our visit to London, and at an early hour Frederick and I were ready for the journey. Frederick, who is tending slowly, as it seems to me, towards an as yet sufficiently remote ninth birthday, had been vigorously and successfully scrubbed till he shone with an unwonted absence of grime; his hair had been temporarily battened down; his Eton collar was speckless, and his knickerbocker suit, while not aggressively new, was appropriate and free from visible rents. I cannot say he was impressed with the solemnity of the occasion, but he was eager and fully determined to purchase as many stamps as could be secured for the generous prize of money bestowed upon him by a lady who had observed his progress in the study of Nature--beetles, moths, tadpoles and the like--and had noted his ever-growing passion for postage-stamps.

London he looked upon as one gigantic repository of stamps. I spoke to him of Trafalgar Square and the Nelson Column and the Landseer Lions. He replied by informing me that there was a certain issue of Mauritius which was valued at £1,200. "If," he said, "I could get that some day I shouldn't want to collect any more."

"It seems," I said, "a lot of money to pay for a small piece of paper."

"Yes," he agreed, "it is; but perhaps I could get it cheap in some old shop which didn't know much about it."

I then tried to divert his attention to the prospect of having luncheon with me at the Rhadamanthus Club, but he begged me not to interrupt him, as he was endeavouring to calculate how many years it would take him to get together the sum if he could manage to save two-pence a week out of his pocket-money. After a short mental struggle, however, he gave it up and banished the blue Mauritius, or whatever it is, from his ambitions and his conversation.

Before we started Francesca addressed a few earnest words to me about the proper care of a boy in London.

"Be sure," she said, "to see that he keeps his hands clean. I should hate to think that he was wandering about Piccadilly and Pall Mall with dirty hands."

"He'll have to wander," I said, "with such hands as Nature provides for him. No little boy can ever keep his hands clean anywhere for more than half a minute at a stretch."

"But you might give him an occasional wash, you know."

"I will do everything," I said, "that may become a father, short of carrying about a wash-hand basin and a jug of water and a piece of soap and a towel through Piccadilly and Pall Mall."

"And his hair," she said,--"you'll not let it got too untidy, will you?"

"I'll brush it when I can," I said; "but you must remember that a little boy without a Catherine-wheel of hair on the back of his head is only fit for a museum. I must insist on his keeping his Catherine-wheel substantially intact."

Well, at last we got off in the train on our adventure, I with a morning paper, and Frederick deep in a stamp-catalogue, from which he occasionally brought forth things old and new. In due time we reached our destination and stood triumphant in the stamp-shop. It was not a large shop, but it was a rich shop, owning countless valuable varieties, and Frederick, whose hands were now of the subfuse hue which Cambridge insists on for the garments of her candidates, was soon engaged in an animated discussion with the affable and amused proprietor. At last the five shillings were exhausted and the deal was complete, the last item consisting of a perfectly terrific set of Gaboon stamps, each decorated with the fuzzy head of a spear-bearing native warrior. It speaks volumes for the power and courage of our French allies that they should have been able to overcome these savage and formidable tribesmen, and reduce them to the order that is implied by the existence of a post-office and the possession of stamps.

We now found that we had about forty minutes to spare. It is hardly necessary to say that, being in the immediate neighbourhood of the Strand, we devoted the time to a Cinema. The change from the Gaboon and its truculent inhabitants to a highly sentimentalised fishing-village was something of a wrench, but Frederick, clutching his purchases and his catalogue as if his life depended on stamps, was equal to it. He bore without flinching the storms and the wrecks, and the bodies of drowned men tossed upon the shore. Nor did he audibly disapprove when one fisherman, rescued from death, lost his memory for many years, and eventually regained it in extreme old age amid the rejoicings of his relatives and neighbours.

Thence we passed by a happy change to the detached and melancholy malice of Mr. CHARLES CHAPLIN, of whom I can now say, _Vidi tantum_. Mr. CHAPLIN'S victim on this occasion was a well-dressed foreign gentleman of perfect manners but fiery temper, who was compelled to suffer a series of dreadful indignities. We left him struggling silently but furiously against an adhesive lobster salad which Mr. CHAPLIN had, in an absent-minded moment, plastered over his face.