Chapter 2

I might, if allowed, make a hit as Messing Officer. With the aid of my Cookery Course notes I can differentiate between no fewer than thirty-four different types of rissole. Unfortunately we already have a Messing Officer of deadly efficiency. He can classify dripping by instinct. He can memorise at sight all the revolting contents of a swill-tub. My rissole lore is a poor asset in comparison.

No, James, I think I have it. One day you will read that our Armies of Occupation consist of so many hundred thousands of all ranks, including, perhaps, 35,001 officers. That is why they retain me. I shall be the "1" at the end of the thousands. It is your humble servant's function to keep the Armies of Occupation up to strength.

Are we to be robbed of the fruits of victory? The reply is in the negative. Therefore, when next June comes along and you yearn for the early filberts, do not be fretty. Remember that I am gathering in fruits of another and a nobler kind. Yours ever,

WILLIAM.

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* * * * *

NEW BREAD FOR OLD.

["New Bread Again"--"Loaves of Any Shape."--_Headlines from a Daily Paper_.]

As I walked forth in Baker Street As sober as a Quaker, Whom did I have the luck to meet? I met a jolly Baker. His voice was gay, his eye was bright, His step was light and airy, His face and arms were powdered white-- I think he was a fairy; He danced beneath the April moon, And as he danced he trolled Wild snatches of an ancient rune, Yet all the burden of his tune Was "New--Bread--for Old!"

Quoth I: "Whence got you, lad, a heart So glad that you must show it?" Quoth he: "The Baker hath his art No less, Sir, than the Poet; I tell ye, I'm so blithe to-night I'd paint the old Moon's orb red! Oh, think ye that I took delight For years in baking war-bread? One shape, one colour and one size, By Government controlled? But now all this to limbo flies; What wonder that to-night I cries 'New--Bread--for Old?'

"Good Sir, the Baker hath a soul And loves to make bread pleasant-- The Twist, the long Vienna Roll, The Horseshoe and the Crescent, The Milk, the Tin, the lovely loaf Where currants one discovers, The Wholemeal for the country oaf, The Knot for all true lovers. So, till upon the glowing East The sun in red and gold Comes forth to bake the daily feast, I'll cry with heart as light as yeast, 'New--Bread--for Old!'"

* * * * *

THE MODERN ICARUS.

"After an hour's flight over the frozen Conception Bay and the town of St. John's, Mr. Hawker made a perfect landing. He appeared more than over confident of success."--_Daily Paper_.

"General admiration and sympathy is extended to Mr. Tawker due to his frankness regarding his progress towards making the trans-ocean flight."--_Sunday Paper_.

We trust our contemporaries are not in a conspiracy to represent the gallant aviator as a hot-air man.

* * * * *

"Presently, when aviation becomes a commonplace, the fares will come down."--_Daily Dispatch_.

That's just what makes us so nervous.

* * * * *

PEACE TERMS.

BEING SOME LETTERS OF MRS. PARTINGTON TO HER SISTER.

[Conferences between mistresses and servants are being held in various parts of the country to discuss terms of peace in the domestic world.]

_Puddleford_.

DEAR MOIRA,--We haven't got a servant yet, but we are clutching at a new hope. There is to be a conference here between mistresses and maids, to discuss and readjust the servants' rights and the mistresses' wrongs--or is it the other way about? Anyhow, I shall attend that conference. I shall bribe, plead, consent to any arrangement if I can but net a cook-general. Ten months of doing my own washing-up has brought me to my knees, while Harry says the performance of menial duties has crushed his spirit.

Of course, Harry does make such a fuss of things. You might think, to hear him talk, that the getting up of coal, lighting fires, chopping wood and cleaning flues was the entire work of a household, instead of being mere incidents in the daily routine. If he had to tackle _my_ duties--but men never seem to understand how much there is to do in a house.

I will tell you about the conference when I write again.

Yours always, DODO.

_Puddleford_.

DEAR MOIRA,--The conference was a most interesting affair; the one going on in Paris could never be half so thrilling. There was a goodly attendance of servants, and they had their own spokeswoman. We spoke for ourselves--those of us who were not too dazed at the sight of so many "treasures" almost within our grasp.

What the servants wanted was not unreasonable. They chiefly demanded a certain time to themselves during the day, with fixed hours for meals, evening free, etc.

Then Mrs. Boydon-Spoute got up--you know how that woman loves to hear herself talk--and said that such demands were outrageous. (It's easy for her to raise objections. She has somehow paralysed her two servants into staying with her for over ten years.) She pointed out that under such conditions the servant would have more freedom than the mistress; and to allow the working classes to thus get the upper hand was nothing short of encouraging Bolshevism in the home. Dreadful thing to say, wasn't it?

The servants got rather restive at that. When I thought of the two days' washing-up waiting for me at home I retorted with spirit that servants had as much right to freedom as we, and it was our duty to guard their interests--and lots of inspired things like that, glaring at Mrs. Boydon-Spoute the while.

I spoke so well that a cook-general offered herself to me as soon as the conference was over. She comes in on Monday.

Yours in transports, DODO.

_Puddleford_.

DEAR MOIRA,--Emma, the new maid, has arrived. Harry is as relieved as I am and was quite cheerful while I was dressing the gash he had inflicted on his hand while chopping wood. Isn't it strange that men can never give the slightest assistance in the house without getting themselves hurt in some way?

Emma promises to be a treasure. If mistresses would only show a little humanity there never would be any servant trouble at all. It is people like Mrs. Boydon-Spoute who are responsible for it.

Yours, purring content, DODO.

_Puddleford._

DEAR MOIRA,--I am sorry not to have written for such a long time. I have been so extremely busy.

You see, when Emma has had her two hours free daily, her hour-and-a-half off for dinner, with half-an-hour for other meals, every evening out as well as two afternoons a week, you would be surprised what little leisure is left to her for the housework.

She gets in what she can, of course, and I do the rest. Doing the rest, by the way, takes up a great deal of my time. But I generally have an hour free in the evenings.

Your brave DODO.

_Puddleford_.

DEAR MOIRA,--I am glad to say Emma has gone and I am putting my name down at a registry-office in the usual way. It's too much of a strain having "conference" girls in the home.

Who was it said that if we are to allow the working classes to get the upper hand it was nothing short of encouraging Bolshevism in the home? Anyhow, I think he--or perhaps it was she--must be right.

I must close rather hastily. I have just heard a terrific crash in the kitchen; I'm afraid Harry has dropped something on his foot _again_.

Your long-suffering DODO.

* * * * *

"Mr. ----, like a fatherly hen, hovered over all, satisfying himself that nothing had been omitted that could detract from their comfort."--_Egyptian Mail._

We cannot imagine any hen, however unsexed, behaving like that.

* * * * *

RHYMES OF RANK.

Vice-Admirals command a base; Their forms blend dignity with grace. You never see the smallest trace Of levity upon the face Of one who wears a Vice's lace. For Admirals to romp and race Or frolic in a public place Is held to be a great disgrace; I do not think a single case Of this has happened at our base.

The Commodore, the Commodore Is very popular ashore; He can relate an endless store Of yarns which scarcely ever bore Till they are told three times or more. The ladies young and old adore This man who bathed in Teuton gore And practically won the War; But once, a fact I much deplore, A General was heard to snore While seated near the Commodore.

The Captain dwells aloof, alone; He has a cabin of his own; And should the smallest nose be blown, Though softly and with dulcet tone, In earshot of this sacred zone The very ship herself would groan. Yes, Captains (though but flesh and bone Like little snotties, be it known) Are best severely left alone.

Commanders are a stern-eyed folk Who may or may not take a joke; It really isn't safe to poke Light fun at any three-ringed bloke; You may be sorry that you spoke. Their ways are proud; they sport the oak; They are not tame enough to stroke; I greatly dread these grim-eyed folk.

Lieutenants of the R.N.V. Were born and bred on land, not sea, And ancient mariners like me With sly grimace and winks of glee Would watch them when the winds blew free, Or send them down a cup of tea. But soon their deeds became their plea For standing with the Big Navee In equal fame and dignity: While even Subs. R.N. agree They're better than they used to be, These Looties of the R.N.V.

Sub-Loots are nothing if not sports; The nicest girls in all the ports Declare they are the best of sorts And useful on the tennis-courts. In gun-rooms, where their rank resorts, They bandy quips and shrewd retorts, And swig champagne, not pints but quarts. I said at first that they were sports.

* * * * *

* * * * *

WITH THE RED GUARDS.

A good deal of curiosity exists regarding the management of the Bolshevik army, in which it is stated that discipline does not exist. A copy of Battalion Orders may therefore be of interest:

_BATTALION ORDERS_

BY MAJOR TROTOFF

(COMMANDING THE 22ND BATTALION THE RED GUARDS).

(1) DETAIL.

Disorderly Officer--LOOT VODKAWITCH.

Next for duty (if so disposed): LOOT PUTAWAYSKY.

(2) PARADES.

The Battalion (or such of it as has no other engagement) will parade as strong as possible on the Peter-and-Paulsky Prospekt, at 10.30 A.M. for 9.30 A.M.

DRESS.

Barging order, with rifles, razors, knives, pokers and horsewhips.

The following scheme will be carried out:--

_General Idea_.--A few families of the Bourgeois class have taken up a position in certain cellars in West End of City. Patrols report that they still possess a few valuables.

_Special Idea_.--The O.C. invites the Battalion to occupy district and help itself.

(3) COMMAND.

The Second in Command of this unit regrets to announce that he found it necessary to sentence his Commanding Officer to forty-two days No. 1 F.P. for attempting to maintain discipline; the Second in Command therefore assumes command of this unit in the absence of the C.O. now serving sentence.

(4) COURSE.

Would a few officers mind being detailed for the hundred-and-twenty-first course in the use of Private House Grenades, 13th of this month?

(5) BOOTS, BOLSHEVISTS FOR THE USE OF, ISSUE OF.

The Quartermaster would be greatly obliged if private gentlemen of the Battalion requiring boots would favour him with a visit at any time during the day or night.

If not inconvenient to them it would be a kindness if they let him know what they take.

NOTICE.

The Officer at present in command of the Battalion has pleasure in announcing that the private residence of the Commanding Officer, which contains a large number of objects of great beauty and value, is through its owner's unavoidable absence at present unguarded.

In these circumstances the O.C. is pleased to grant an extension to all ranks until twelve midnight.

P. PIPSKY,

_Captain and Agitant_.

* * * * *

A SUPER-MORMON.

"A Nelson soldier in a letter states that General ---- informed his unit that he had 2,000 wives to ship out to New Zealand, and another 2,000 would be ready to leave England during the next few months."--_New Zealand Paper_.

* * * * *

There was an industrial freak, As a labourer sadly to seek; But he leapt into fame By preferring a claim For a general Ten-Minutes' Week.

* * * * *

* * * * *

FEARFUL ODDS.

There's no fear that strikes so dumb, None so hard to overcome, As the thought that there are two Eyes that _may_ be watching you. Here's a perfect illustration Of that sickening sensation.

Young Lieutenant Jimmy Spry's Power resided in his eyes; He'd been able all his days To revolve them different ways. For example, let's suppose That the right one watched his nose, Then the left--you'll think it queer-- Turned towards his dexter ear. But what really made him great Was--he always _saw_ things straight.

Out in France, a year ago, He was cornered by the foe; Neither party had a gun, But the odds were three to one And the Huns were fit and strong; One was lean and very long, One was short and stout of calf, While the third was half and half.

Jimmy, spoiling for a fight, Fixed the short one with his right, While his left with martial glare Met the long 'un's startled stare; But--I know it sounds absurd-- He was _looking_ at the third.

Jimmy was, I'd have you know, Something of a boxing pro., So he knew the golden maxim: "He who eyes his man best whacks him." Shorty, when he saw the grim Optic that was turned on him, Thinking Jimmy's fist looked hard Prudently remained on guard. Canny Hun! And who can blame Longshanks if he did the same? But our hero, irritated, Grassed the third man while they waited.

Filled with rage and anger, both Rushed upon him with an oath, Eager now to slit the gizzard Of that astigmatic wizard, Till they noticed with dismay _Both_ his eyes were far away! (One eye sought the earth, while one Seemed to contemplate the sun.)

Both stopped dead; the same cold thought At their jangling heart-strings caught. Longshanks, trembling at the knee, Quavered, "Hans, he's watching _me_!" Shorty whimpered, scared to fits, "No, it's _me_ he's after, Fritz!" Sick with fear, their souls revolted; As one man they turned and bolted.

At them Spry in mild amaze (Literally) bent his gaze, Sighed, and then without a word Wandered homeward with the third.

* * * * *

BAR BABIES.

[Lord Justice BANKS recently referred to the possible establishment of a Law Courts' _crêche_, where the female barrister might leave her young while engaged in forensic duties.]

_From "The Law Times" of 192--._

"A Violent altercation took place yesterday in the room allotted to infants of the Junior Bar (adjoining the Court of Pathetic Appeal) between his nurse and little Johnnie, the teething infant of Mrs. Flapperton, who, by the way, we noticed being measured only the other day for silk. The Court Husher having failed to produce silence, Mrs. Justice Spankhurst had to intervene, and only succeeded in restoring order by threatening to have the _crêche_ cleared."

* * * * *

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

_Monday, April 14th_.--The Criminal Injuries (Ireland) Bill furnished the LORD CHANCELLOR with the text for a rather gloomy sermon on the present state of the sister-country. The King's Writ still runs there, but in many counties is outstripped by the rival _fiat_ of Sinn Fein. A tribute to the impeccable behaviour of "law-abiding" Ulster appeared to stir in the breast of Lord CREWE memories of the pre-war prancings of a certain "Galloper," for he remarked that the noble lord's information seemed to be "partial and recent."

Exception has recently been taken to the cab-shelter in Palace Yard, some Members objecting that its architectural design was out of harmony with that of the Houses of Parliament, and others complaining that its internal attractions were so great as to seduce the taxi-men from paying any attention to prospective fares. Sir ALFRED MOND, after long consideration, has decided to abolish the offending edifice and to give the drivers a shelter in the Vaults, where the police will discourage them from exceeding in the matter of "rest and refreshment."

Members were naturally eager to hear what Mr. BONAR LAW, freshly flown from Paris, had to tell them about the Peace Conference, the prospects of hanging the EX-KAISER, and so forth, but received little information, save that the Government shared the popular desire that no legal quibble should prevent the arch-criminal being brought to justice. Members were a little comforted, however, by the announcement that a Committee of the Cabinet is already considering the whole question of Peace-celebrations. While Mr. LLOYD GEORGE is engaged (if the image is permitted) in fighting beasts at Ephesus it is pleasant to think of his colleagues deciding upon the relative merits of crackers and Catherine-wheels, flares and bonfires, church-bells and steam-sirens, as means for the expression of the national joy.

After the loud orgy of headline which followed upon his remarkable victory at Central Hull, Commander KENWORTHY might reasonably have expected that his entry into the House would have produced an uproarious scene of demonstration and counter-demonstration. But there was nothing of the kind. The jubilant "Wee Frees," of course, cheered as one man, but the volume of sound produced was not appreciably greater than if one man had cheered; and the crowded Coalitionists sat gloomily silent, though no doubt they thought a lot. The gallant Commander has already introduced one pleasing innovation into the procedure of the House, for, before signing the Roll, he nodded cheerfully to the ladies in the Gallery, as if to say, "But for you I shouldn't be here!"

Sir A. GRIFFITH-BOSCAWEN, who at Question-time had regretfully admitted that the Government were withdrawing soldiers from agriculture at a moment when they were particularly required, now moved the Second Reading of the Bill which is intended to give them the chance of going back to the land in perpetuity. In spite of his warning that the cost of the land to be acquired was a comparatively minor part of the expense, Members vied with one another in denouncing the iniquity of allowing the land-owner to get the present market-value of his property; and the landlords' representatives themselves hastened to declare that such a preposterous notion never entered their heads. The Bill was read a second time without a division. I don't suppose it will provide land for anything approaching the eight hundred thousand soldiers who are said to be pining for it; but it ought to satisfy the relatively small proportion who, after hearing about the trials and hardships of a small-holder--no forty-eight hours' week for him!--retain their agricultural aspirations.

_Tuesday, April 15th_.--In a couple of hours the Lords disposed of several Bills, enjoyed a scientific debate on neurasthenia--described by a correspondent of Lord KNUTSFORD as "a gas escaping from people"--discussed the prices of milk and cheese, and still found time for the consideration of their own procedure. Lord CURZON said the suggestion that the House should sit on more days in the week had not been favourably received. Friday would not do, as their Lordships went out of town on that day, and Monday was equally inconvenient, as they could not contrive to get back by then. To earlier sittings the LORD CHANCELLOR objected on behalf of his legal colleagues. So it looks as if there would be no change, and since, _teste_ Lord SALISBURY, the House does its work admirably, why should there be?

Remembering a famous speech on the presumption of certain organs of the Press, the Commons were not surprised to learn from Mr. CHAMBERLAIN, _à propos_ of the beer-tax, that he is not responsible for what may appear in _The Times_.

There is still something of "the eternal boy" in Major WEDGWOOD BENN. It was with an air of "Now I've got him" that he propounded the question, "Is paper a raw material or a manufactured article?" But Mr. BRIDGEMAN can always solve these Cobdenite conundrums, and quietly replied, "Both." Whereupon Major BENN, with an engaging blush, retired from the fray.

In moving the second reading of the Aliens Restriction Bill the HOME SECRETARY said that, while national safety must be the first consideration, no unnecessary hardship should be inflicted on our foreign immigrants. But his proposal that the Government should rest contented with its present powers for another two years met with little favour from Members whose knowledge of history seems to date from 1914. In the opinion of Mr. BOTTOMLEY, who led the Opposition, every alien was _prima facie_ undesirable; Sir ERNEST WILD, from his experience in the criminal courts, took the same view, and patriotically demanded the exclusion from our shores of persons whose principal occupation, we gathered, was to furnish him with briefs for the defence; and Mr. JOYNSON HICKS, Mr. BILLING and Sir R. COOPER urged that the SHORTT way with aliens should be made considerably shorter. Before this massed attack the HOME SECRETARY gave way and agreed to reduce the operation of the Bill to one year.

The temperature of the House rose so appreciably during the debate as to upset the nerves of some of the ladies in the Strangers' Gallery. At least that is the charitable explanation of the behaviour of Miss SYLVIA PANKHURST and her friends, who interrupted a discussion on soldiers' pensions by shouting out, "You are a gang of murderers!"

_Wednesday, April 16th_.--A crowded House, the Peers' Gallery full to overflowing, the HEIR-APPARENT over the Clock, and the new Editor of _The Times_ among the representatives of the Press--the PRIME MINISTER could have desired no better setting for his speech upon the labours of the Peace Conference. His original intention was to hold his forces in reserve and invite his critics to "fire first," but, as none of these gentlemen seemed to be particularly anxious to go "over the top," Mr. LLOYD GEOEGE obligingly altered his battle-plan and himself delivered the opening fusillade.