Chapter 3

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HOW FACT PLAGIARIZES FROM FICTION.

From the report of a Landlord _v._ Tenant case:--

"Mrs. Barkiss said she was quite willing to leave some day."--_Local Paper_.

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"GATWICK MEETING.

Never has this popular rendezvous looked more beautiful, thanks to the wealth of owers on the members' lawn."--_Provincial Paper_.

We gather that it had been a bad day for backers.

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RECOGNITION A LA MODE.

_(A Romance of False Perspective_.)

The Press, ever anxious, as the guardians of public sentiment, to correct the reaction that is apt to follow upon any great outburst of popular enthusiasm, did well to describe the impending arrival of Prince Ongtong, of the Solomon Islands, with his famous mixed choir, as the second best news since the signing of the Armistice. We are glad to think that the reception of this illustrious potentate in our midst was worthy of the occasion.

There was a time when our relations with the Solomon Islanders were strained. Their pagan and, we regret to say, anthropophagous habits laid them open to a certain amount of criticism. Not many years ago Mr. Bamberger, the famous violinist, in the course of a triumphal tour in the Southern Pacific, was captured by the inhabitants of Kulambranga, detained for several weeks in captivity in a mangrove swamp, where he suffered great inconvenience from the gigantic frogs _(Rana Guppyi_) which infest this region, and was only rescued with great difficulty by a punitive expedition--conducted by Sir Pompey Boldero--when on the eve of being sacrificed to the gastronomic exigencies of his captors.

But this happily is all ancient history now. The Solomon Islanders for several years have been confirmed vegetarians, and the pronounced modification in their mesocephalic skulls and the improvement of their facial angle afford the surest guarantee against any relapse. Furthermore the instruction in music which they received from Mr. Bamberger has exerted a profoundly mollifying effect on their manners. Mr. Clutton Brock has pronounced them to be the most artistic of all the Papuans. Their paintings show a remarkable affinity to the style of Picasso and Matisse. Their choral singing is the glory of the South Pacific.

Prince Ongtong and his party, who made the journey by long sea in a flotilla of catamarans and sampans, arrived at Southampton on Saturday, where they were met by perhaps the most representative and influential gathering of public men ever seen in our times. The procession to the Town Hall was headed by Lord READING, Lord SYDENHAM, Mr. BOTTOMLEY, Mr. HOGGE, Sir LEO CHIOZZA MONEY, Mr. SMILLIE and Mr. EUSTACE MILES. Then followed Prince Ongtong and his choir, superbly gowned in their flowing sarongs, wearing their long Papuan pampooties and followed in turn by a group of instrumentalists playing on conchs, nose-flutes and a species of mouth-organ closely resembling the jew's-harp, but much larger and more penetrating in its quality. The crowds in the street were enormous; hundreds of strong women fainted, and the casualties are estimated at upwards of five thousand.

The proceedings in the Town Hall were brief but most impressive. After the freedom of Southampton had been conferred on the Prince by the Mayor, in a gold casket, Lord READING in a touching speech announced, amid tempestuous cheers, that the Government had resolved to signalise Prince Ongtong's services by conferring on him a dukedom and a grant of two million pounds.

Continuing, Lord READING said that the Solomon Islands had always appealed to him with peculiar magic. He believed that they were the authentic seat of King SOLOMON'S Mines, in spite of the rival claims of Africa put forward by Sir RIDER HAGGARD.

The Prince, who acknowledged the honour in fluent Melanesian, was understood to say that he had only done his duty, that he was speechless with gratitude and that he would always regard Lord READING as a brother. A _recherché_ vegetarian luncheon was then served, after which Lord ROTHERMERE presented each member of the choir with a cheque for ten thousand pounds, and Mr. SMILLIE invited them to give evidence before the Coal Commission.

The Prince and party were anxious to proceed by special train to London, where rooms had been engaged for them at the Grand Palestine Hotel, but, on leaving the Town Hall, were surrounded by the crowd, which had now swelled to nearly a million and fought for the privilege of escorting the visitors to the station with such desperate enthusiasm that at a late hour on Saturday night no traces of Prince Ongtong or any of his choir could be discovered. This is all the more to be regretted as arrangements had been made for a competition between the Solomon Islanders and the Czecho-Slovakian singers, at which Lord ASKWITH had undertaken to adjudicate. All hope however of tracing the missing party has not yet been given up, and a wireless message received at Marconi House on Sunday night states that the Ringwood police had arrested a partially-clad foreigner in the neighbourhood of the Rufus-stone.

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CHANCE FOR THE HOMELESS.

"For Sale, Hupmobile Car (1916 model), saloon body, self starter, electric light, lory on ground floor, 3 bedrooms, bathroom seater, with 2 extra chairs."--_Provincial Paper_.

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"Mr. ---- is forty-six and a man of business. He is chairman of the City Lands Committee, and a member of the Corporation. These things are not good training for championship lawn-tennis."--_Evening Paper_.

This applies more especially, of course, to the Corporation.

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"The Duchess still looks quite a girl, and so does the Duke, particularly now that he has shaved off his tiny moustache."--_Weekly Paper_.

The Duke's motto: "Put me among the girls."

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N. Y. D.

Trench-foot, shell-shock and the other well-known by-products of war on the Western Front always got the bulk of medical notice, while our rarer Macedonian efforts remained neglected. My friend McTurtle has nervous prostration, with violent paroxysms at the mention of leave or demobilization, and the medical profession can only classify him as "N. Y. D., or Not Yet Diagnosed (malignant)."

McTurtle is a Staff-officer. A famous Atlantic liner dumped him at Salonica in 1915, and when the first infantrymen panted through the town in search of non-existent billets McTurtle was to be seen in the window of a villa giving bird-seed to his canary. At Salonica it is not considered good form to ask openly what a Staff-officer's job is, but he allowed friends to gather that he had an indirect connection with that fine old regiment, the Macedonian Labour Corps.

After some time (about three decorations and a mention in despatches, as McTurtle measured time) the overland leave route was opened, and the far-reaching shadow of war plunged suddenly across McTurtle's unlikely threshold. He was called upon, like many another harmless Staff-officer, to give up his simple comforts and to face hardship and suffering for a scrap of paper (authorising him to travel to Manchester). At first McTurtle was content to let the younger men of the Base make a stand against the aggression of the front line. Being the only support of an aged Colonel and no mere youth, he left it to the reckless A.P.M.'s, the dashing Camp Commandants and the carefree dare-devil Field-Cashiers to repel the infantry and gunners. But his conscience was uneasy, and indeed his apparent lack of proper feeling was commented upon by others. Once an A.D.C. handed him a white feather in the Rue Venizelos.

At length it became obvious that the Base was losing ground. The infantry and gunners, outnumbering the Staff by at least two to one, were gaining positions on each leave-party. The issue was trembling in the balance, and McTurtle answered the call. With set lips he sought the nearest orderly-room sergeant.

Before a week was out the night saw a train creeping through the gloom towards Athens and McTurtle sitting wakeful amongst four snoring infantrymen. He thought piously of the time when the Staff should reach such a pitch of organization that it would be needless--nay, impossible--for infantry to continue to exist. Towards dawn he fell into a doze, and when he waked it was light. He lowered what had been the window and looked out.

McTurtle hates heights, and in his cloistered Salonica life he had never realised that the trains of Greece ran about like mice upon a cornice. Four hundred precipitous feet yawned beneath his horrified eyes, and at his first involuntary gasp the teeth he owed to art and not to nature left him and swooped like a hawk upon a distant flock of sheep. The shepherd, a simple rustic unfamiliar with modern dentistry, endeavoured to sell them subsequently to a Y.M.C.A. archaeologist as genuine antiques.

At that moment the train stopped. McTurtle thought that his loss had been noticed, but as he made his way to the kit-truck for some more teeth he discovered that a landslide barred the way. The train backed cautiously for ten minutes and stopped again. Another landslide. The leave-party remained stationary for thirty hours, eating the rations thoughtfully provided for such a contingency.

In due course McTurtle found himself on the front seat of a motor lorry breasting the spurs of Mt. Parnassus. The dizziness of his path was invisible to him, for in a Grecian summer you can see nothing out of motor vehicles but dust.

But when the lorry reached the summit of the pass the sea-breeze from the Gulf of Corinth cleared the air and he saw for the first time the peaks on one side and the gulfs on the other, with the road writhing down canyons and gorges like a demoniac corkscrew.

"Fine view, Sir," remarked the driver.

McTurtle gulped assent. "Bit dangerous, 'o course," continued the driver chattily. "There was a steam roller went over the edge just 'ere three days ago. Nice young fellow as drove it. Beg pardon, Sir? Oh, I thought you spoke.

"Yes, 'e went too near the edge and it gave like. No nearer than we 'as to go, o' course: you watch while we pass this French-man.... There was a lad took a lorry over three weeks ago. 'Ad an attack of fever while 'e was driving and went unconscious. 'Ave you 'ad malaria, Sir? I get it something cruel meself. Comes on sudden like.

"Blimey, you 've got a touch coming on now, 'aven't you?"

At Itea, on the Gulf of Corinth, the party was ordered to return owing to a German offensive in France. McTurtle went back under chloroform. A week later it made another attempt, but was stopped by the Austrian offensive in Italy. McTurtle went back under morphia. At the third attempt it got through, but without McTurtle.

His nerve is gone, and he is marooned at Salonica. He cannot face the overland route, and he cannot get home all the way by sea just yet. In spite of all his endeavours he cannot become a naturalised Greek and stay there, because of linguistic difficulties.

But what he wants to know is, why can't the medical authorities recognise "leave-shock" as a disease and send him home by hospital ship?

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"The King has awarded a Knight Commandership of the Bath to Lieutenant-Colonel ----, C.B., in charging customers excessive prices for milk by giving short measure."--_Provincial Paper_.

We should have thought the Pump would been more suitable than the Bath.

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LABOUR NOTES.

A threat was recently made by the representatives of the miners that industrial action would be taken unless the Government at once withdrew all troops from Russia and abandoned conscription. There has been, it appears, an unfortunate misunderstanding as to the exact meaning of the term "industrial action." On Sunday a meeting of protest against the miners' proposal was held under the auspices of The United Brotherhood of Worshipful Lead-Swingers and Affiliated Trades. Violent attacks were made by several speakers upon the Miners' leaders, and serious disruption in the Labour World seemed imminent. But when it was authoritatively explained that "industrial action," instead of meaning work, as was supposed, was a euphemistic term for striking, harmony reigned once more. It was, however, unanimously resolved that in future the expression "industrial inaction" be always used in such connection, as "action" was a word repugnant to all right-thinking Lead-Swingers, and, anyhow, calculated in such a context to give rise to confusion of thought.

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A Trades Union has recently been formed to further the interests and raise the status of all who are in receipt of Government unemployment pay. It is hoped eventually to obtain a charter, and thus give professional standing to those employed in receiving such pay. In the meantime, however, the Union is working on orthodox labour lines, and arrangements are practically completed for calling a national strike of unemployed to compel the Authorities to increase the amount of the grant by one hundred per cent. In the event of a strike each member of the Union will formally week by week refuse to accept his or her money, and it is believed that the Government will quickly be brought to its knees. No special steps are to be taken against traitors to the cause who accept work. The social ostracism thereby incurred is felt to be a sufficient deterrent.

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A regrettable impasse has been reached in the dispute between The Amalgamated Society of Trades Union Leaders and the Trades Unions. Mr. Blogg, speaking for the Leaders' society, stated, on leaving the Conference last night, that the outlook was black. Unless the rank and file of the Unions were prepared to meet the Leaders' demands a strike was certain. He shrank from imagining what was likely to happen if the Trades Unions were left leaderless. The responsibility, however, did not rest with the Leaders. They had made every possible concession. A four-hours' day and a salary of one thousand pounds per annum was the minimum which would be considered.

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Comrade Snooks informed our representative that he was conducting negotiations on behalf of the employers, that is to say the ordinary members of the Trades Unions. He stated with a full sense of responsibility that if the Leaders went on strike all the resources of the Unions would be employed against them. On the whole the Leaders had good berths--easy work and high pay. Their demands were becoming absolutely unreasonable and must be opposed. Their methods of enforcing their demands too were to be deprecated. Only the preceding evening one of the Trades Union Loaders had become abusive and broken one of his (Comrade Snooks') windows. That sort of thing was disgusting, and in the interests of decency and order must be put down. In case of need police protection would be applied for.

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A THEME FOR SIR HENRY NEWBOLT.

"When HAWKER came swooping from the West."

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COAL.

Dark jewel from the zone of Erebus! What son of Dis first dragged thee from thy lair To be a twofold benison to us Poor mortals shivering in the upper air When Phoebus nose-dives in his solar bus Beneath the waves and goes to shine elsewhere? Or if some monstrous progeny of Tellus Found thou wast Power and made the high gods jealous I do not know (I've lost my Lemprière), Nor if the fate that thereupon befell us Was for each load of coal two loads of care; Yet oft I wonder if beyond the Styx The price of thee is three pounds ten and six.

Sun worshipper am I, and serve the gods Of stream and meadow and the flowery lea, Of winding woodways where the loosestrife nods In summer and in spring the anemone, And thymy sheep-paths where the ploughboy plods Home to his frugal but sufficient tea. Not for a crown, grim coal, would I pursue thee In subterranean passages and hew thee Mid poisonous fumes and draughts of tepid tea. Yet were I all undone should I eschew thee; Someone, in short, must dig thee up for me; And, if he deems it worth a pound a day, Well, who am I to say the fellow nay?

The sailor heaves on Biscay's restless bay; His breeks are tarry but his heart is kind; The farmer grouses all the livelong day Howe'er with untaxed oof his jeans are lined; The shop-assistant works for paltry pay, Though of all manners his are most refined; But all of them can quaff the undefiled Sweet air of heaven and gaze with thankful eyelid On azure skies and feel the unfettered wind, Or in the park on Sunday, in a high lid, Or through the equinoctials blowing blind, Or at cold milking-time when dawns are red And birds awake and I remain in bed.

Not so the miner! Though his private life Is blameless and his soul is pure and brave; Although he gives his wages to his wife And spanks his children when they don't behave; Though rather than incur industrial strife He takes the cash and lets the Bolshy rave, He is condemned to toil in mines and galleries, Nourished inside with insufficient calories, A sordid mineral's uncomplaining slave, Till the rheumatics get him and his pallor is So marked he hardly dares to wash and shave. And shall I grudge the man sufficient pelf For toil I'd rather die than do myself?

Ah, there's the rub! I fain would see him blest With ample quarters and sufficient food, A spacious close wherein to take his rest, Hats for his wife and bootlets for his brood. But, now the Powers have granted his request, Too well I know what course will be pursued By certain merchants who "enjoy" my custom: They'll put the price of coal up, you can trust 'em, Till I by want am utterly oppressed And my finances, howso I adjust 'em, To my complete insolvency attest. Five pounds a ton they'll charge--I know their game-- Saying, "Of course the miner is to blame."

Nay, let me clasp the honest fellow's hand, Saying, "O miner, here is one who shares Your just desire to make this lovely land A fit abode for heroes and their heirs By ousting Plunder's profiteering band, Who take the cash and leave us all the cares. Oh, if we twain together might conspire, Would we not grasp them by the scruff and fire Coal merchants, barons, dukes and millionaires, And run the business to our hearts' desire, Paying no dividends on watered shares; Blessing State ownership and State control, You for high wages, I for cheaper coal."

ALGOL.

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THE GREAT GOLF CRISIS.

A great budget of correspondence from all parts of the country has reached Mr. Punch concerning the suggestions put forward by famous golfers with the view of modifying the predominant influence exercised by putting in golf. A crisis is rapidly being reached and Government intervention may be invoked any day.

Mr. Ludwig Shyster, of the North Boreland Golf Club, suggests that the tin in the hole should be highly magnetized and the ball coated with a metallic substance so that it might be attracted into the hole. Golf, he contends, is a recreation, and the true aim of golf legislation should be to make the game easier, not more difficult; to attract the largest possible number of players and so to keep up the green-fees and pay a decent salary to secretaries and professionals.

Hanusch Kozelik, the famous Czecho-Slovakian amateur, who has recently done some wonderful rounds at Broadstairs, cordially supports GEORGE DUNCAN'S advocacy of a larger hole. He sees no reason why it should not be three feet in diameter, provided the greens were reduced to eight feet square and surrounded with a barbed-wire entanglement.

Lord HALSBURY, who took to golf when he was over eighty and has only recently given it up, writes: "The bigger the better 'ole."

On the other hand, Dr. Scroggie Park, of Kilspindie, strongly advocates the abolition of the hole altogether and the substitution of a bell, as in the old form of croquet. But, as he wisely adds, variety, not cast-iron uniformity should be our aim. The principle of self-determination should in his opinion be conceded to all properly constituted golf clubs.

Lord BIRKENHEAD is all for maintaining the _status quo_ in regard to holes and greens, but takes up a strong attitude on the improvement of the water-supply. In this respect golf-architecture has hitherto been sadly to seek. There should, he says, be at least one bathroom for every twenty members.

We are obliged to hold over for the present the views expressed on this burning question by Dame MELBA, Madame KARSAVINA and Madame DESTINNOVA.

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"A departure from the bridal custom frequently noted since the war, of having man bridesmaids, is being made by Lady Diano Manners."--_Provincial Paper_.

We had not previously noted this custom, but are glad that Lady DIANO--whose name also is new to us--is dispensing with it.

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An ex-Waac domestic named Mary Ann Took a place with a strict vegetarian; He cautioned her, too, That beer was taboo, But she simply replied, _"Ça ne fait rien. "_

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OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

_(By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.)_

_Mr. Standfast_ (HODDER AND STOUGHTON) is the third book of the super-spy trilogy that Colonel JOHN BUCHAN has given us, as a kind of supplement to his more official record of the War. We have the same hero, _Hannay_, as in _Greenmantle_ and _The Thirty-Nine Steps_, the same group of associates, reinforced for purposes of love-interest by a young and attractive female, and the same arch-Hun, now identified as the _Graf von Schwabing_. Also the affair pursues much the same hide-and-seek course that gave the former adventures their deserved popularity. I entirely decline even to sketch the manifold vicissitudes of _Hannay_ (now a General), tracking and being tracked, captive and captor, ranging the habitable and non-habitable globe, always (with a fine disregard for the requirements of book-making) convinced that the next chapter will be the last. Three criticisms I cannot avoid. To begin with, Colonel BUCHAN is really becoming too lavish with his coincidences. Secondly, I found it odd that the spy-hunters, after employing so many ruses and so much camouflage that one might say they almost refused to recognise their own reflections in a mirror, should proceed to the opposite extreme and arrange all their plans, with engaging frankness, over the telephone. Finally, the tale, though full of admirable disconnected moments, does not carry one along sufficiently quickly. _General Hannay_ was, I thought, too apt to interpolate lengthy reminiscences of active service, just when I wanted to get on with the matter in hand. Pace in such affairs is everything, and my complaint is that, though the hunt had yielded some capital sport, its end found me with my pulse rather disappointingly calm.

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