Chapter 2

They superseded _Handley Cross_; They glorified the "hunting fever;" They purged their pages of the dross, While bettering the fun, of LEVER; With many a priceless turn of phrase They stirred us to Homeric laughter, When painting Ireland in the days Before Sinn Fein bewitched and "strafed" her.

With them we watched good _Major Yeates_ Contending with litigious peasants, With "hidden hands" within his gates, With claims for foxes and for pheasants; We saw _Leigh Kelway_ drop his chin-- That precious English super-tripper-- In shocked amazement drinking in The lurid narrative of _Slipper_.

_Philippa's_ piercing peacock squeals, Uttered in moments of expansion; The grime and splendour of the meals Of _Mrs. Knox_ and of her mansion; The secrets of horse-coping lore, The loves of _Sally_ and of _Flurry_-- All these delights and hundreds more Are not forgotten in a hurry.

Yet the same genial pens that freight Our memories with joyous magic Gave us the tale of _Francie's_ fate-- So vulgar, lovable and tragic; Just to the land that gave them birth They showed her smiling, sad and sullen, And turning from the paths of mirth Probed the dark soul of _Charlotte Mullen_.

Alas! the tie, so close, so dear, Two years ago death rent asunder; Hushed is the voice so gay and clear Which moved us once to joy and wonder; Yet, though they chronicle a loss Whose pang no lapse of time assuages, The spirit of brave "MARTIN ROSS" Shines like a star throughout these pages.

Here in her letters may one trace The generous scorn, the gentle pity, The easy unaffected grace, The wisdom that was always witty; Here, mirrored in a sister soul, One sees the comrade, strong yet tender, Who marched unfaltering to her goal Through sacrifice and self-surrender.

* * * * *

THE FOOD OF THE FAMOUS.

The publication of Lord RHONDDA'S daily menu will, we hope, lead other prominent people who are striving to follow his good example to divulge the details of their dietary. But in case their natural modesty may prevent them from doing so, Mr. Punch ventures to supply a few unauthorised particulars.

The source of Mr. LLOYD GEORGE'S boundless energy has long been a mystery. It is now known to be derived from a raw leek eaten on rising, and a dinner of Welsh rabbit, made from a modicum of Government cheese and half a slice of war bread.

With Mr. BONAR LAW all meals are oatmeals. A plate of porridge at daybreak, bannocks slightly margarined, when possible, for lunch, and a stiff cup of gruel just after Question time keep him alert and smiling.

Thanks to the Spartan habits formed during his connection with both services, belt-tightening has no terrors for Mr. WINSTON CHURCHILL. A quid of Navy tobacco suffices for breakfast, and his only other meal consists of a slice of bully beef with a hard biscuit served on an inverted packing-case.

The wild rumours recently current as to the amount of nutriment required for the upkeep of Mr. G.K. CHESTERTON have now been happily set at rest. The needful calories for twenty-four hours of his strenuous existence are supplied by two cups of cocoa, a shred of dried toast, a Brazil nut, a glass of sodawater and a grilled banana.

* * * * *

"In one case the good cows from one herd had an average production of 9,592 lbs. milk, and 406 lbs. of fat, while the poor cows had a production of only 3,098 lbs. of milk and 119 lbs. of tea."--_Farming News_.

Give us the poor cows every time.

* * * * *

From a Church paper:--

"'EARLY CHRISTIANS.' I am sorry you cannot get these from the Army and Navy Stores."

It sounds like the old tiger story.

* * * * *

"A certain company commander, looking out of his quarters, saw several Germans in possession of a dump not far away. Although still in his sleeping clothes, he seized his trench tick and rushed towards them. Why they did not fire upon him is one of those little mysteries which will probably never be explained."--_Daily Paper_.

Unless by the learned author of _Minor Horrors of War_, who knows all about the fauna of the trenches.

* * * * *

THE PERFECT CUSTOMER.

It was a very ordinary country sale of work. The Countess of Bilberry declared it open in a neat little speech, and then bought generously from every stall: her daughter, whose smile nobody could resist, did a fine trade with raffle tickets for the record pumpkin produced by the local allotments: Mrs. Dodd, the Rector's wife, presided over a pair of scales and a strictly rationed tea, and all the rest of the village sold vegetables and socks and pincushions, and tried to pretend that antimacassars and shaving tidies and woolwork waistbelts were the most desirable things in the world when they were made by wounded men at the nearest Red Cross Hospital, in whose aid the sale was held.

But there was one unique figure amongst all the folk who knew each other, and each other's clothes, and each other's clothes' cost, so well. She arrived at the Village Hall in a pony-carriage, drawn by the ugliest little pony that ever sniffed oats. She was very quietly and very tastefully dressed, and, instead of concentrating on the well-laden stalls of garden produce or the orderly stacks of knitted comforts, or the really useful baskets, she went straight to the stall which even Mrs. Dodd, who had the kindest heart in the countryside, had been compelled to relegate to a dark corner. There was woolwork run riot over cushions of incredible hardness; there were candle-shades guaranteed to catch alight at the mere sight of a match; there were crochet dressing-table mats, and there was a three-legged stool on which even a fairy could not have sat without danger of a break-down.

The youngest Miss Dodd, a severely practical young lady of sixteen, who was presiding at this stall, jumped up in surprise at the sight of a customer, and in doing so knocked over a glass box bound with red and white and blue ribbon, with "Handkerchiefs" painted across the corner in a design of forget-me-nots. There was very little glass box left when she picked it up, and the splinters had made a good many little craters in the surface of a big bowl of clotted cream, labelled "Positively the last appearance for the Duration of the War," which was at the corner of the next stall.

The little stranger said that she would take the box and the damaged cream too; she bought a whole family of crochet mats with centres of orange woollen loops; three pincushions made of playing cards discharged as no longer fit for active service; a table-centre with pen-painting of the Allied flags, and a letter-case with the badges of the Dominions worked in wool and "Across the sea, A letter from thee," straggling wearily across one corner. Then there was an antimacassar in purple and magenta sateen, with yellow daffodils making a brave attempt to flourish in unlikely surroundings.

At the next stall she bought a photograph frame which had lost its prop in an unequal contest with a tea-tray which had collapsed from the heartiness of the Rector's clapping at the conclusion of the Countess's speech; and a Noah's Ark from which the star performer and his very best beasts had somehow disappeared.

Then the little lady paused before the live-stock stall.

"There isn't anything really hideous here," she murmured to herself; "but I think that puppy--it's never had its tail cut, and nobody will ever know whether it's a sealyham, a spaniel or even a dash of a setter--I will take the puppy, please," she added, "as soon as I've had some tea. After that I will see what is left. You have such nice things."

After tea she went back to the youngest Miss Dodd and collected a few more of the more glaring atrocities, paid her bills, and then went off to her pony-carriage; the youngest Miss Dodd, very much inclined to giggle, bearing armfuls of odd purchases in her wake, crowned by the bowl of cream and the mongrel pup. She handed them in and was just going away when the little old lady pressed a piece of paper into her hand.

"I don't like to worry people," she said gently, "but if you have time you might read this. It has been a great opportunity to-day; I don't often find so much to be done--and I shall love the puppy."

The youngest Miss Dodd watched the start of the ugly pony with a snigger and then went back into the lighted hall to read the pamphlet. It was a touching little document--many people know it well--and the youngest Miss Dodd, who had never been known to sentimentalize over anything before, blew her nose rather violently when she had read it.

"Bless her dear little soul!" she said to herself: "I don't wonder that pup was trying to kiss her. I only hope she won't try to eat that cream with the glass in it, or give it to the pup." For the pamphlet was the Rules for Membership and a treatise on the Objects and Methods of the "Society for Buying What Nobody Wants."

* * * * *

MORE PROFITEERING.

"Beautiful champagne broche silk crepe de chine blouse; open neck; one button; cost 2s. 6d.; accept 15s."--_The Lady_.

* * * * *

* * * * *

CONVERSIONS.

There was an exuberant flapper Who made people anxious to slap her; She uttered loud squeals And she smoked at all meals; Now she's married an elderly sapper.

There was a mild don who was muddy In mind and complexion by study; Now he flies fast and far, With a cross and a bar, And his face and his language are ruddy.

* * * * *

"BRITISH FRONT REINFORCED.

"BY PERCIVAL PHILLIPS."

_Daily Paper_.

Intrepid fellows, our war correspondents. What a pity there are so few of them!

* * * * *

"A long, keen dagger will be supplied to every American infantryman going to France. This weapon will be fitted into one of the fighting men's leggings when he goes into action, so he will have something to fall back on should his bayonet fail."--_Canadian Paper_.

If he's going to fall back on it, we hope the sharp end won't be at the top.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE CLYDE-BUILT CLIPPER.

[Many of the fast-sailing clippers which were making fine passages in the Australian wool trade in the 'seventies and onwards were laid up or turned into hulks before the War. Recently, however, several have been re-fitted for sea and are once more doing good service.]

A ship there was, and she went to sea (Away O, my Clyde-built clipper!) In eighteen hundred and seventy-three, Fine in the lines and keen in the bow, The way they've forgotten to build 'em now: Lofty masted and heavily sparred, With stunsail booms to every yard, And flying kites both high and low To catch the wands when they did blow (And away, my Clyde-built clipper!).

Fastest ship on the Colonies run-- (Away O, my racing clipper!) That was her when her time begun; Sixteen knots she could easily do, And thirteen knots on a bowline too; She could show her heels to anything made With sky-sails set in a favouring trade, Or when she was running her easting down From London River to Hobart Town (And away, my racing clipper!).

Old shellbacks knew her near and far (Away O, my old-time clipper!) From Circular Quay to Mersey Bar, And many a thundering lie they told About her runs in the days of old; But the time did come and the time did go, And she grew old as we all must grow, And the most of her gear was carried away When caught aback in a gale one day (And away, my old-time clipper!).

Her masts were sprung from fore to mizen (Away O, my poor old clipper!) And freights was poor and dues had risen, And there warn't no sense in rigging her new, So they laid her up for a year or two; And there they left her, and there she lay, And there she might have been laying to-day, But when cargoes are many and ships are few A ship's a ship be she old or new (And away, my poor old clipper!).

So in nineteen hundred and seventeen (Away O, my brave old clipper!) They've rigged her new and they've scraped her clean And sent her to sea in time of war To sail the seas as she sailed before. And in nineteen hundred and seventeen She's the same good ship as she's always been; Her ribs are as staunch and her hull's as sound As any you'd find the wide world round (And away, my brave old clipper!).

The same as they were when she went to sea (Away O, my Clyde-built clipper!) In eighteen hundred and seventy-three, Fine in the lines and keen in the bow, The way they've forgotten to build 'em now; Lofty masted and heavily sparred, With stunsail booms to every yard, And flying kites both high and low To catch the winds when they did blow-- (And away, my Clyde-built clipper!).

C.F.S.

* * * * *

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

_Monday, December 10th_.--One would gather from the hoardings that the Government wished to encourage the sale of War Bonds by every possible means. Yet the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER threw cold water on the efforts of certain firms to increase the sale by the offer of cash prizes, and thought it undesirable that this inducement should be imitated. The advocates of Premium Bonds were a little depressed by this announcement, but cheered up somewhat on observing that the conscientious CHANCELLOR has no intention of refusing the millions already raked into the Treasury by these "schemes of doubtful legality."

On the vote for an increase of fifty thousand men for the Navy Mr. GEORGE LAMBERT solemnly announced that the Admiralty was "fumbling with a magnificent weapon." It is distressing to think that a body which for nearly ten years enjoyed his services as Civil Lord should have deteriorated so rapidly since he left it.

Mr. LYNCH does not think much of the new scheme for securing unity of effort among the Allies. He called it "the analogue of the Aulic Council" (pronounced "Owlic," to give more effect to the description).

The Chequers Estate Bill passed through all its stages amid a chorus of praise, despite the injunction of the generous donors that there should be "no flowers."

_Tuesday, December 11th_.--After all, London is to have the BARNARD statue, despite the protest of Lord CHARNWOOD, LINCOLN'S latest biographer, that it is not a portrait of his hero, but of a man whose only connection with the PRESIDENT was that he was born in the same neighbourhood. Against this Lord WEARDALE quoted Mr. ROOSEVELT'S description of the statue as "the Lincoln we all knew and loved." As Mr. ROOSEVELT had reached the mature age of six when LINCOLN was assassinated the COMMISSIONER OF WORKS seems to have regarded his testimony as conclusive.

At the request of Mr. KING the Peers are to be allowed to listen to the secret debates of the Commons, if any of them desire to do so. The hon. Member having expressed a hope that the Peers would grant reciprocal facilities to the Commons, Mr. HOGGE kindly suggested that the Government should grant him "all the privileges of the House of Lords." But Mr. BONAR LAW declined to deprive the House of Commons in that way of one of its brightest ornaments; so the "Mad Hatter" will not be called upon just yet awhile to exchange his traditional headgear for a coronet.

I presume some Members of Parliament know what "non-ferrous metals" are, and what is the object of the Bill which the Government has introduced to deal with them. But the views which they took on the subject were so obscurely divergent that all I could gather from the debate was that in some way or other the measure was intended to be a nasty knock for German trade. That was good enough for the House at large, which passed the Second Reading by a substantial majority.

_Wednesday, December 12th_.--Mr. PRINGLE, having asserted that candidates for appointments under the War Office were successful simply on account of possessing a "pull" with the Selection Department, was quietly reminded by the UNDER-SECRETARY that he himself had attempted to use his influence on behalf of a candidate. Mr. PRINGLE was righteously indignant. He had never asked favours of the War Office; he had merely "recommended men personally known to me." This delicate distinction, which should have convinced Members of Mr. PRINGLE'S disinterestedness, only made them laugh.

On the Vote of Credit for 550 millions the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER was invited by Mr. DILLON to make a survey of the military situation. He replied that all the relevant facts were known already. "The War is going on; the Government and the country intend it shall go on; and money is necessary to make it go on." It is, perhaps, a pity that he did not content himself with this epitome and refuse to be drawn into a discussion of the recent operations near Cambrai. What has Mr. DILLON done to promote the prosecution of the War that he should receive special consideration?

There was a renewed discussion of the censorship of pamphlets. Sir GEORGE CAVE ably defended the regulations, but did not convince everyone that his preference for confiscation over prosecution was entirely sound. The idea that the publishers of these pamphlets would welcome advertisement is probably erroneous, or why was it necessary to insist that they should put their names to them?

Mr. SPENCER HUGHES'S humorous attack upon the CENSOR was much applauded on the Liberal benches. Some of the more brilliant passages would have received even wider appreciation if a good many Members had not heard them a week before from the lips of Mr. AUGUSTINE BIRRELL at a non-political luncheon.

_Thursday, December 13th_.--Lord BERESFORD charged the PRIME MINISTER with having two voices, like _Caliban's_ monster. Lord CURZON flatly declined to accept the suggestion that Cabinet Ministers were collectively responsible for one another's speeches--"they had far more serious things to think of." The phrase seems a little depreciatory, but as Mr. LLOYD GEORGE, according to his candid colleague, is "constitutionally an optimist" he will no doubt make the best of it.

Mr. HOUSTON was informed that sweets "for military, naval or civil consumption" were still being imported, but that the Ministry of Shipping made no special provision for their carriage. No one, therefore, need grudge Sir ERIC GEDDES the lozenge which he so ostentatiously popped into his mouth just before making his speech on Admiralty administration, or inquire too curiously whether it was consumed by him in his capacity of Major-General, Vice-Admiral or Civilian Minister.

Despite the warning of the SPEAKER that it was not in the national interest to embarrass the Administration, Mr. KING insisted on trying to discuss forbidden topics. At last Lord ROBERT CECIL "espied strangers," and we must assume that, without the vivifying presence of the reporters, Mr. KING'S oratory wilted, for an hour afterwards the House was up.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE REWARD OF PATRIOTISM.

"Major ---- has placed the mansion at the disposal of the War Office, and will be in charge of Sister ----."--_Provincial Paper_.

* * * * *

THINGS OVERHEARD IN WAR-TIME.

"There couldn't be room there for _all_ the Jews, could there?"

* * * * *

"After waiting two hours I got half-a-pound."

* * * * *

"It should be made compulsory."

* * * * *

"Wherever else these matches strike, they won't strike on the box."

* * * * *

"I just turned over and went to sleep again."

* * * * *

"I wish the Government would tell _me_ what I could do for them."

* * * * *

"Oh, another three years."

* * * * *

"What puzzles me is--Where is the paper shortage?"

* * * * *

"We keep a gramophone in the basement now."

* * * * *

"No one is more willing than I am to do something."

* * * * *

"It's the children's festival--that's what I always say."

* * * * *

HERBS OF GRACE.

IX.

PENNYROYAL.--A CAROL.

_"Far away in Sicily!"-- A home-come sailor sang this rhyme, Deep in an ingle, mug on knee, At Christmas time._

In Sicily, as I was told, The children take them Pennyroyal, The same as lurks on hill and wold In Cotsall soil.

The Pennyroyal of grace divine In little cradles they do weave-- Little cradles therewith they line On Christmas Eve.

And there, as midnight bells awake The Day of Birth, as they do tell, All into bud the small plants break With sweetest smell.

All into bud that very hour; And pure and clean, as they do say, The Pennyroyal's full in flower On Christmas Day.

_Far away in Sicily!-- Hark, the Christmas bells do chime! So blossom love in thee and me This Christmas time!_

W.B.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE V.C.

My cousin Agatha has been a bad correspondent ever since she married my old friend, George Thimblewell, which means for the past five-and-twenty years, so in ordinary circumstances I do not expect more from her than a "hasty line" to tell me how the youngsters are doing (George, of course, never writes at all). But I must say I was surprised and not a little hurt when, in the skimpy margin of a letter dealing mainly with the difficulty of devising breakfast-dishes, she scribbled in the most casual manner conceivable, "George has got the V.C. at last."