Chapter 2

The ultimatum went forth at 10 A.M. at noon on the same day; the period of unrest for the C.C. was well set in. Every department, learning by instinct what was forward, forthwith discovered what it had long suspected, its own immediate and paramount importance. Every department appointed a representative to go round and see the C.C. about it, another representative to write to him about it, and a third to ring him up on the telephone, and go on ringing him up on the telephone, about it. The only departments that kept modestly in the background were those upon which the execution of the move fell. The C.C., noting the queue of representatives at his front-door and the agitation of his telephone, slipped out by the back-door, and went to look for the workers, and, when he'd found them, he lived with them, night and day, here, there and everywhere.

Humanity is not constituted for such close friendships. As time passed the C.C. and his accomplices found relations becoming strained. They said things to each other which afterwards they regretted. Meanwhile also the departments with the paramount and immediate needs grew bitter and restless. Only the Highest Authorities remained tranquil.

I'm told it was an A.D.C. who called attention to the difficulty of milk supply. This was a popular suggestion; it was just the sort of difficulty a soldier loves. In the bare and arid circumstances of the new camp there was no milk supply. "Buy one," said the Highest Authority, and again the thing was as good as done, except for the C.C., who had to think out a cow, so to speak, with regard to its purchase, equipment, transport, housing, maintenance and education. A man of infinite variety, the arrival of the cow (in bulk) found the C.C. nonplussed. He could not even begin to solve the food question. To him it seemed there were only two alternatives for the beast: bully beef or ration allowance at three francs a day in lieu of rations. The cow, he was told, was entitled and likely to refuse both.

We all crowded round the C.C. to help. "As to a simple matter like food," said A. and Q., "the Lord will provide. But as to the more difficult and complicated matters of establishment we will issue your orders." These ran: "Reference COW: (1) This unit should be shown on your Weekly Strength Return, with a statement of all casualties affecting same. Casualties include admission to or evacuation from hospital; change of address; marriage, and leave to the United Kingdom. (2) To be brought on the proper establishment of H.Q., it should be shown as 'Officer's Charger, one,' and should be trained and employed by you as such. (3) Please report action taken, and whether by you or by the Cow."

Even as the C.C. was contemplating this communication and hearkening to the cow grumbling away in his front-garden, his old regiment took occasion to march through the village and, in so doing, added insult to injury. The regiment had a mascot; the mascot was a goat; the goat fell out on the march and went sick. It did this in that portion of the C.C.'s front garden which was not already occupied by the cow, and its orders from the Colonel, who was its C.O. and had once been the Camp Commandant's C.O., were to remain with the C.C. and upon his charge till called for. This is all a very true story, but it's poor rations I'll be getting from the C.C. during what remains of this War for divulging it.

Be anything in the military world you like, Charles, from a courtly General to a thrusting Loot in charge of some overwhelmingly important department or other, but do not be a Camp Commandant. As there is no terrible complication which may not occur in the life of such, so there is no bitter irony which may not follow all. The early afternoon of April 6th found the C.C. on the site of the now camp, surrounded by confusion and an angry crowd of experts. There had been words and more words; there had only just not been blows, and all with regard to this wretched and incessant subject of April 7th. The C.C., never broad-minded on the point, had become positively ridiculous and tiresome about that irrevocable date, April 7th. It was a dull subject in any case, said the experts, but in the circumstances it was inane and cruel to go on insisting on it. R.E., Lorries, Signals and all their suites, not having been on too friendly terms among themselves these latter days, were fast becoming united in their intense loathing of the C.C. and his everlasting and impossible April 7th.

At this moment the Highest Authority itself arrived on the scene to have a look at it. He was not in the least discontented with what he saw; he was inclined to congratulate the experts upon their expedition.

"We shall be hard put to it, Sir," said the C.C., "to be ready for to-morrow."

"To-morrow?" said the Highest Authority. "Why to-morrow particularly?"

"To-morrow is the 7th, Sir," said the C.C., with sinister emphasis.

"And what about it if it is?" asked the Highest Authority.

"We have to move in here on April 7th, Sir," said the C.C., with almost an injured note in his voice.

"Have you?" said the Highest Authority. "Why?"

The experts saluted and moved off, commenting quietly among themselves upon the good sense and magnanimity of the Highest Authority. As for that Camp Commandant--

Yours ever, HENRY.

* * * * *

FOOD BEFORE CLOTHES.

"Exchange Fawn Costume, slight figure, good condition, for two broody hens."--_The Smallholder._

* * * * *

THE HEROINE OF THE NEW NOVEL.

* * * * *

IN MEMORIAM.

FRANCIS COWLEY BURNAND,

1836--1917.

EDITOR OF "PUNCH," 1880--1906.

Hail and Farewell, dear Brother of the Pen, Maker of sunshine for the minds of men, Lord of bright cheer and master of our hearts-- What plaint is fit when such a friend departs? Not with mere ceremonial words of woe Come we to mourn--you would not have it so; But with our memories stored with joyous fun, Your constant largesse till your life was done, With quips, that flashed through frequent twists and bends, Caught from the common intercourse of friends; And gay allusions gayer for the zest Of one who hurt no friend and spared no jest. What arts were yours that taught you to indite What all men thought, but only you could write! That wrung from gloom itself a fleeting smile; Rippled with laughter but refrained from guile; Led you to prick some bladder of conceit Or trip intrusive folly's blundering feet, While wisdom at your call came down to earth, Unbent awhile and gave a hand to mirth!

You too had pondered mid your jesting strife The deeper issues of our mortal life; Guided to God by faith no doubt could dim You fought your fight and left the rest to Him, Content to set your heart on things above And rule your days by laughter and by love. Rest in our memories! You are guarded there By those who knew you as you lived and were. There mid our Happy Thoughts you take your stand, A sun-girt shade, and light that shadow-land.

R.C.L.

* * * * *

* * * * *

CHILDREN'S TALES FOR GROWN-UPS.

VIII.

SOUR GRAPES.

"I have no doubt," said the fox, after a last futile attempt to reach them, "that the grapes are sour;" and he went off slowly down the hill.

At the bottom of the hill a barrel was lying, and the philosopher was filled with new hope. "The very thing," he said to himself.

He put his shoulder to the barrel and pushed and panted and panted and pushed till he got it nearly to the top. But it broke away at the last moment and rolled down the hill.

He rolled it up again and again perseveringly. He tried as often as Sisyphus. He tried indeed just once more, because at last he succeeded and the barrel was placed on end under the vine.

Joyfully he climbed on the barrel and bit at the fruit.

Then he jumped down with a bark of disgust.

The grapes _were_ sour.

* * * * *

"Mutiny aboard a German U-boat, aided by the demolarizing effects of a submarine bomb, made the diver a prize of the British Admiralty and her crew the willing prisoners of a patrol boat."--_Ottawa Evening Journal._

This kind of bomb--the demolariser--is just what we want to draw the enemy's teeth.

* * * * *

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

_Monday, April 23rd._--Any intelligent foreigner who obtained admission to the Distinguished Strangers' Gallery in the expectation that on the feast-day of our national saint and the birthday of our national poet he would be privileged to listen to a series of eloquent speeches upon patriotism, delivered by our most accomplished orators, must have been deeply disappointed. The one subject that the House of Commons seems to care about is food.

The CONTROLLER has hit one section of the House in its tenderest portion. Those Members who make their mid-day meal off tea and bread-and-butter think it very hard that they should be allowed no more bread than others who take the full luncheon. On their behalf Mr. LONDON, like _The Carpenter_, said, "Give us another slice." But, despite a slight facial resemblance to _The Walrus_, Colonel LOCKWOOD was inexorable.

The late Mr. JUSTIN MCCARTHY was once described by his ex-leader as "a nice old gentleman for a quiet tea-party." If anyone had said that a Sunday- School treat would furnish the appropriate _milieu_ for that ardent Pacifist, Mr. JOWETT, I should, until this afternoon, have been inclined to agree with him. But it is evident that his acquaintance with Sunday-School treats is purely academic, for in requesting the FOOD CONTROLLER to remove the ban lately placed upon them he spoke of the treat as a "simple meal, consisting of _a_ bun and tea only." The italic is our own comment on this estimate of the capacity of our brave tea-fighters.

_Tuesday, April 24th._--Those Members to whom their constituents have given notice to quit at the next election, and who have recently been somewhat depressed by the thought of the impending loss to the nation of their valuable services, are plucking up heart again now that the life of Parliament is to be once more extended. Mr. KING, for example, was in his best form this afternoon. It goes without saying that his advice to the Board of Agriculture to set a good example to the country by sending their racehorses out to grass was well received, for any reference to the Government stud is equivalent to the "Pass the mustard" of the established humourist. His real success came when Mr. BONAR LAW denied that Sir GEORGE MCCRAE had been appointed Chief Whip to the Government. Mr. KING drawled out, "As _The Times_ has stated that this gentleman was so appointed will its foreign circulation be stopped?" Then the laughter came spontaneous and loud.

Another little joke which tickled the House was, I suspect, the outcome of a conspiracy. At least I cannot understand why Mr. OUTHWAITE should have been so anxious to know the amount of ginger imported into this country last year, unless it was to afford Mr. MACVEAGH an opportunity of asking, when the amount, some three thousand tons, had been announced, "How is it that the new Government has got none of it?"

There is a growing tendency on the part of Ministers, when charged with the conduct of a Bill, to speak of it as "a poor thing not mine own." They imagine, I suppose, that an air of deprecation, not to say depreciation, is likely to commend the measure to an audience in which party-spirit is supposed to be defunct.

At first it seemed as if Mr. PROTHERO, in moving the second reading of the Corn Production Bill, was going to adopt the modern attitude of _insouciance_, for he spoke of it as "bristling with controversial points" (as if it were intended to promote the growth of quite another kind of corn), and observed that he himself had originally been opposed to State interference with agriculture. But he soon warmed to his work, and spoke with all the zeal of the convert. Among his most appreciative listeners were the occupants of the Peers' Gallery--the Duke of MARLBOROUGH, who has transformed the sword of Blenheim into a ploughshare, and Viscount CHAPLIN, to whom the announcement of State bounties for wheat-growing seems like the arrival of the Millennium.

Another ex-Minister of Agriculture was, to put it mildly, less enthusiastic. I should be doing Mr. RUNCIMAN little injustice to say that for the moment the politician in him rose superior to the patriot. If after the War the old party-quarrels are to break out again with all their fatal futility I can imagine that Liberal wire-pullers in the rural districts will be much embarrassed by the existence of bounties which economically they cannot approve but which politically they dare not remove. But surely we shall have learned our lesson badly if the old strife of Tory and Liberal is to be revived in all its former virulence and sterility. Besides there is the Labour Party to be considered, as Mr. GEORGE ROBERTS reminded the House in the best speech he has made since he went on the Treasury Bench. He pointed out that if high wages and good conditions were to be secured for agricultural workers the prosperity of the agricultural industry as a whole must be ensured; and he hoped that the policy of State-aid would not stop there. No wonder the hard-shell Free Traders looked glum.

Sir HEDWORTH MEUX must be careful or he will jeopardize his reputation as a humourist. Mr. PARTINGTON having asked whether the Government would put down their racehorses, the gallant Admiral could think of no better jest than that the proposal was as futile as that of the hon. Member's namesake, who endeavoured to keep out the Atlantic with a mop. Shortly afterwards Mr. YEO asked whether the Government would consider the destruction of cats, with a view, perhaps, to the suppression of MEUX.

The Corn Production Bill had to run the gauntlet of a good many criticisms during the second day's debate. The unkindest cut of all was delivered by the SPEAKER. Mr. MOLTENO had asked whether Members who were landowners or farmers might vote on a measure affecting their financial interests, and Mr. LOWTHER replied that the benefits were "so problematical and so uncertain" that he thought they might. Mr. MOLTENO used his freedom to vote against the Second Reading; but only a handful of Members followed his example. Mr. RUNCIMAN and his friends decided that abstention was the better part of valour.

_Thursday, April 26th._--Major BAIRD made a modest and candid defence of the Air Board against its many critics. He did not pretend that they were yet satisfied--in the case of so new a service there could be no finality-- but he claimed that the departments had worked much more harmoniously since they were all housed under the hospitable roof of the Hotel Cecil, a statement which Lord HUGH of that ilk subsequently endorsed. Major BAIRD, despite the general mildness of his voice and demeanour, can deliver a good hard knock on occasion. He warned the House against indulging in a certain class of criticism, on the ground that there was no surer way of killing an airman than to destroy his confidence in the machine he was flying; and he asserted that the "mastery of the air" was a meaningless phrase impossible of realization. I think Mr. PEMBERTON-HICKS and Mr. JOYNSON-BILLING took the rebuke to heart, for they were much less aggressive than usual.

* * * * *

* * * * *

SICK.

Dear MR. PUNCH,--Excuse this tosh, But I've succumbed to measles (Bosch), And all my dreary hours are spent Inside a vast and gloomy tent. So, as I'm feeling rather blue, I thought I'd better write to you. All known diseases here you'll find (This letter's steamed, you needn't mind); But in my tent there's only one, I'm glad to say, viz., measles (Hun). The Nurses all are Scotch and stout, So are the drinks I do without; I don't complain of lack of fruit-- At least we don't get arrowroot-- Nor have I even ever seen a Single plate of semolina. So life is not so bad, you see, Except for chlorine in the tea. I think that's all, so now will end, Hoping this finds you, dearest friend, Just as it leaves me, in the pink (My rash is not quite gone, I think).

* * * * *

"Now those precious divisions have to be hurled into the furnace to avert a veritable landslide."--_Sunday Paper._

The shortage of men in the German Army has evidently been exaggerated. This confirms the evidence from other sources that they have troops to burn.

* * * * *

AT THE PLAY.

"HAMLET."

To prepare a very own version of _Hamlet_ and play it with credit--that is still the blue riband of the Stage. Mr. H.B. IRVING has fairly won it. The version seemed to me apt. He tells us that his main purpose was to bring out the story as if for those who had never seen the play before. It is a rational point of view, and certainly it seemed a distinct improvement not to lose sight of _Hamlet's_ adventure to England, as is commonly the case, and to keep the essential sequence of events and the personality of the Prince constantly before the audience. The justification of the heroic cuts and adaptations was that the action did move faster towards the tragic end, instead of seeming to drag rather tiresomely as (be it confessed) it sometimes does.

Observers contrasting this with Mr. IRVING'S earlier performance remarked a gain in depth and fire and a happier restraint of mannerism. It was a very notable and gracious piece of work. He has the player's first gift, an arresting personality. His elocution has distinction. He conveys the beauty of the words and the richness of the packed thought thoughtfully. The complex play of action and motive--the purpose blunted by overmuch thinking, the spurs to dull revenge, the self-contempt, the assumed antic disposition, at times the real mental disturbance--all this was set before us with a fine skill and resource. The "To be or not to be" soliloquy was masterly in its sincerity and restraint; the two broken love passages with _Ophelia_ showed a fine tenderness through the distraught, bitter mood. An ingenious turn was given to that difficult change of weapons in the fencing bout, though I doubt if the Sword Club would wholly have approved the technique of the fencing.

Miss GERTRUDE ELLIOTT'S _Ophelia_ in the Mad Scene was full of beauty, sweetness and dignity--and we have so often been bored by our lesser _Ophelias_. A very fine performance. Mr. HOLMAN CLARK was the foolish prating knave, a _Polonius_ robbed of his best speech, and the more consistent therefore. Mr. IRVING is obviously right in his view that _Polonius_ could never by any chance have given any such advice to his truculent son.

One may congratulate the producer on the courage of his convictions. But I wonder if the Shakspearean tradition is really dying. The general quality of the performance was, it must be confessed, not inspiring. There was little of the king's divinity hedging _Claudius_; the _Queen_ (an always difficult part) was elaborately unconvincing, though played by a clever actress; _Guildenstern_ and awkward _Rosencrantz_ deserved any fate which awaited them in England. Neither _Laertes_ nor _Horatio_ seemed authentic. But Mr. TOM REYNOLDS' grave-digger had humour and avoided tedium. _Hamlet_ was the thing.

T.

* * * * *

"A Berlin official telegram states that the Kaiser has sent the following telegram to the Crown Prince:--'The troops of all the German tribes under your command, with steel-hard determination and strongly led, have brought to failure the great French attempt to break through on the Aisne and in Champagne. Also there, again, the infantry had to bear the grunt.'"--_Northern Whig._

The Imperial euphemism, we suppose, for the cry of "Kamerad!"

* * * * *

THE NEW RATIONS.

"Joint Hospital Board, ----, 14th April, 1917. The above Board require two Probationer Nurses for their Consumption."--_Provincial Paper._

* * * * *

A correspondent having observed in a morning paper the headline, "Pomeranians Surrender!" sends us a suggested contents-bill for _The Barking Gazette_:--

GREAT CAPTURE OF POMS! PEKINESE BREAK OFF RELATIONS. GREAT DANES NEUTRAL. RAID BY TERRITORIAL FLYING CORPS (SKY TERRIERS). ROUT OF DALMATIANS. FIELD-GREYHOUNDS DRIVEN OFF.

* * * * *

THE ADJUTANT ON LEAVE.

"Leave, I'm afraid," remarked the Adjutant, standing with his back to the fire and hitching his bath towel more securely over his left shoulder, "can only be granted now in special circumstances."

Flying being prevented for that afternoon by the weather conditions, we had been playing hockey, and the Adjutant, who by virtue of seniority had just had first go at the bathroom, was in a warm and expansive mood. The rest of us sat about in his quarters awaiting our turns at a hot-water supply that would certainly cease to have anything warming or expansive about it by the time it reached the junior Second Lieutenant.

"The question is," said that dejected officer, fixing the Adjutant with a watchful eye--"the question is, what are you going to regard as special circumstances?"

"You state your circumstances to me officially to-morrow," said the Adjutant cheerfully, "and I'll tell you quickly enough whether they're special or not,"

"I suppose," suggested the Stunt Pilot, "that a wedding would be a pretty special sort of circumstance, wouldn't it?"

"That depends," replied the Adjutant. "Are you thinking of getting married yourself?"

The Stunt Pilot said that he hadn't been, but if there was any leave going with it he might think of it.

"One's simply got to get leave _somehow_," he complained. "What about a breach of promise case? Suppose I manage to get mixed up in a breach of promise case, wouldn't that do?"

"That's no good," commented the Junior Officer gloomily. "You'd have to get leave for something else first before you could manage it."