Chapter 2

Of course it's an excellent thing that they should take up the white man's burden and make the coolies work, only I'm in dread lest the overcrowding we suffer from in England may be extended to the Orient. Will there be enough plantations, coolies and big game to go round amongst our subalterns?

I can see the Government introducing several Bills--

(1) For the extension of the Isle of Ceylon;

(2) For the lengthening of the Malay Peninsula;

(3) For the importation of five million coolies, estimated at the rate of five hundred coolies each, to give employment to ten thousand second-loots;

(4) For the importation of elephants, tigers, lions, buffalo, hippopotami, giraffes and capercailzie.

* * * * *

AT PRINTING-HOUSE SQUARE.

[Mr. GEOFFREY DAWSON has resigned the Editorship of _The Times_, owing to a disagreement with Lord NORTHCLIFFE over matters of policy, and has been succeeded by Mr. H. WICKHAM STEED, formerly foreign editor.]

"Once more upon the waters! Yet once more! And the waves bound beneath me as a Steed That knows his master."

_Byron_, "_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage_."

* * * * *

* * * * *

A CAREER.

(_The Right Man in the Right Place_.)

You should see our son James! You should just see our James! As bright as a button, as sharp as a knife! My wife says to me and I say to my wife, "You'll never have seen such a son in your life As our jammy son, James."

He is now three years old; He's a good three years old; When the fellow was two you could see by his brow (At the age of a year, you could guess by the row) That this was a coming celebrity. Now He's a stout three-year-old.

Question: What shall he be? Tell us, what shall he be? Shall he follow his father and go to the Bar, Where, passing his father, he's bound to go far? "But one knows," says his mother,"what barristers are. Something else he must be!"

Do you fancy a Haig? Shall our James be a Haig? The War Office tell me he's late for this war, Have the honour to add there won't be any more Since that's what the League of the Nations is for; So it's off about Haig.

But his mother sees light (Mothers always see light). "This League of the Nations we mentioned above, With the motto, 'Be Quiet,' the trade-mark, a Dove, Will be wanting a President, won't it, my love?" Jimmy's mother sees light.

Yes, that could be arranged; Nay, it must be arranged. In the matter of years Master Jimmy would meet Presidential requirements. What age can compete, In avoiding the gawdy, achieving the neat, With forty to fifty? Thus, forty-five be't. Given forty-two years, he'll be finding his feet And the Treaty of Peace should be getting complete.... And so that's all arranged.

HENRY.

* * * * *

"I am sorry to have to say that this statement is a ------, and if any of my readers have any doubt as to whether I used that strong term without just reason, I invite them to communicate with the Ministry of Shipping on the subject."--_Letter in "The Observer."_

We respect our contemporary's discretion, but we _should_ like to know what was the "strong term".

* * * * *

"The Literary Class has grown beyond all expectations, the numbers attending the last few meetings averaging nearly 100. Papers have been read and discussed on Dickens' Works, _Tess, Tale of Two Cities_."

_The Highway_.

Flushed with success, the Literary Class is expected next to tackle HARDY; _Jude the Obscure_ and _The Mystery of Edwin Drood_ being the first objectives.

* * * * *

_NOUVELLES DE PARIS._

_Paris, March 3rd, 1919._

DEAREST POPPY,--You know, don't you, that I write for the Press? You _must_ write, _ma chère_, if you want to be _dans le mouvement_ nowadays. It's getting to be almost as big a craze as jazzing and is quite as exciting. It has its difficulties, of course, but so has the jazz roll. And if you've got a title or have been mixed up in a _cause célèbre_ you can write on anything _sans aucune connaissance spéciale_. Camilla Blythely says she just sends in her photo and signature and those obliging newspaper people do the rest--which is most helpful to a busy person. But then we can't all be as notorious as dear Camilla.

I hope it isn't getting just a little overdone. But I hear that lots of papers are offering only three guineas a column now for quite important signatures, while others actually insist on contributors writing their own articles.

_Quant à moi_, I'm writing up the light side of the Peace Conference. I do those snappy pars about LLOYD GEORGE'S ties and CLEMENCEAU'S gloves and all those little domestic touches that people would much rather read about than such remote things as Czecho-Slovaks and Jugo-Slavs. I did a most _thrilling_ three columns about the hats of the delegates, from the bowler of Mr. BONAR LAW to the "coffieh" and "igal" headdress of EMIR FAISUL, the Arab Prince. (It's always so effective if you can stick in a word or two like that that nobody understands. You never need get them right).

Talking of odd words, the latest _boutade_ over here is to find new names and epithets for our dress materials--some of them quite weird. If you want a silk _tricot_ you ask for "_djersador_," while a coarser texture is "_djersacier_"; "_mousseux_" now describes velvet as well as champagne; _ninon_ is known as "_vapoureuse"_; while to make one of the newest Spring dresses you require only three-and-a-half yards of "_Salomé_." Some of the _couturiers_ in the Rue de la Paix are issuing fashion-pronouncing handbooks, while others have their own interpreters to assist customers.

The theatres over here are getting extremely--well, what our grandparents termed "_risqués_," but it really goes further than that. And the worst of it is my countrypeople seem to think it's the smart thing to go to them, which they do most indiscriminately. _Heureusement_ they don't understand the stuff. Whenever I see a most circumspect and highly proper British matron entering one of the Boulevard theatres nowadays I think what a mercy it is that we as a nation rely so much on pronouncing phrase-books for acquiring foreign languages. It keeps one so single-minded in the midst of a wicked world.

But, after all, propriety is a _question de localité_. Else why do people do things here which would badly shock us at home? _Par exemple_, dancing between the courses of a meal is our latest _caprice_ here; but I was _un peu étonnée_, the other evening, to see the Duchess of Mintford, at a restaurant of the most _chic_, jazzing off the effects of the turbot with light-hearted _abandon_.

Unfortunately a waiter carrying a tray darted across the track at the very moment when she was involved in that step so _embrouillant_, the side-roll.

It took quite a long time to collect, and put in their proper order, the waiter, the contents of the tray, her Grace and all the other jazzers who were coming up behind.

But, _après tout_, little comment was roused because most of the onlookers thought the incident was just part of the dance.

So long, old thing.

_Bien à vous_,

ANNE.

* * * * *

THE TRUMP SUIT.

Those who wield Britannia's power Have decreed a blissful hour, When the mellow bugle-note Sounds in every ship afloat, And you see the forrard decks Littered up with leathernecks, Seamen sprawling on the hatches, Darning socks and fitting patches, Cleaning jumpers, sewing, smoking, Writing, fighting, sleeping, joking, Baiting foe and twitting friend-- Sailors call it "Make and Mend."

In this jolly throng each day Gunner 'Erbert, R.M.A., Sat and smoked serenely bored, So that I must needs record When that precious hour was ended He had neither made nor mended.

'Erbert was a crumpled rose In the beds of N.C.O.'s, And a blot on the escutcheon Which they pride themselves so much on; For, in spite of threat and curse, Cells and badges lost, or worse, Captain's frown or sergeants' oaths, 'Erbert _wouldn't_ mend his clothes.

In a distant Eastern land Certain tribes got out of hand, And, to comfort little Mary, Sought to stew the missionary. Our Marines were duly sent To apportion chastisement, And they snatched him from the larder, But alas! pursuing harder Than was wise in such a scrap, They were landed in a trap. For the wily natives got All around and copped the lot, Stripping off them every stitch Of the clothes they stood in, which, I am sure you'll all agree, Was a great indignity.

Copped the lot? No, there was one Absent when the deed was done. 'Erb, with his accustomed push, Was advancing when the bush Dragged the last remaining stitches From the bag he called his breeches, Leaving nothing but the dregs Of the red stripe down his legs. 'Erbert paused; though not a prude, He had never liked the nude.

Seated in a distant clearing. He remarked the natives cheering, And, directed by the din, Saw the plight his mates were in. When he thought the time was ripe, Clad in little but his stripe 'Erbert charged.... The tribes in wonder Promptly bolted with the plunder.

'Erbert with averted head Quickly gathered every shred Of his late-lamented kit, Saying, as he handed it To the Major, "I infer You have lost your breeches, Sir."

With his glasses in his hands On his deck the Captain stands, Watching with surprise and fear His detachment reappear-- First the Major, garbed in dirt And the tail of 'Erbert's shirt; Then the Sergeant, better dressed In the sleeves of 'Erbert's vest; Then the rest in fragments torn From the jumper he had worn. Last comes 'Erbert, proud as NELSON, With a smile and nothing else on.

Is it Fortune's final stroke, Or the Skipper's little joke? As the ladder they ascend Comes the bugle "Make and Mend."

* * * * *

"A flotilla of Portuguese warships is actively maintaining the blockade between the mouth of the Volga and that of the Minho."

_Daily Paper_.

The report that the Bolshevists have borrowed a "Big Bertha" and are meditating a bombardment of Lisbon by way of reprisal is as yet unconfirmed.

* * * * *

"Mr. W.A. Appleton, secretary of the Feedration of Trade Unions, declares that since the Armistice the federation 'has lost no opportunity of endeavouring to smash the controls that meant continued high prices (of food)."--_Evening Paper_.

More power to the "Feedration" in its self-sacrificing campaign.

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE RIGHTS OF LABOUR.

_(Extract from "The Times and Mail" of January 1st, 1925.)_

A significant case was heard yesterday in the courts, when William Blogg, bricklayer's labourer, recovered twenty-five pounds damages from James Buskin Carruthers, artist, for injury done to the plaintiff's eight-cylinder car through defendant's culpable negligence in allowing himself to be run over by it.

Plaintiff urged that he was a labouring-man, who worked eight hours a day. The court was at once adjourned, while restoratives were applied to the Bench.

On the resumption of the proceedings it was explained that since the passing of the Two Hours Maximum Day Bill the supply of labour had been inadequate to meet the demands made upon it, and plaintiff had patriotically filled four posts, at the minimum rate of fifteen shillings an hour. It was while he was hurrying from one sphere of activity to another that the collision occurred, resulting in injury to the plaintiff's mud-guard and loss of valuable time.

Defendant, who admitted negligence, pleaded poverty and threw himself upon the mercy of the Court.

The Bench, in summing up, called the jury's attention to the fact that defendant was not a labourer, but only a professional man; at the same time he reminded them of the impartiality of British justice, which did not admit that there was one law for the rich and another for the poor. Even the wealthiest labouring-man must be protected in the exercise of his inalienable right to work.

The accompanying photograph shows the plaintiff in the act of assisting to build a wall.; He is a self-made man, having started life as a solicitor and by sheer perseverance raised himself to the lucrative and responsible' position of an unskilled bricklayer's labourer.

* * * * *

TO M. GEORGES CLEMENCEAU.

Strong son of France, whose words were ever lit By lightning flashes of ironic wit; More fond of power than of pelf or place, Eternal foeman of the mean and base, And always ready in a righteous cause To suffer odium and contemn applause-- Men call you still the "tiger," but the name Has long outworn the faintest hint of blame, Since in your country's direst hour of need You have revealed your true heroic breed; A tiger--yes, to enemies and Huns, But trusted, idolised, by France's sons. So when of late a traitor's felon blow Was like to lay you, old and ailing, low, And France was sorely stricken in her Chief, The wide world shared her anguish--and relief; For the assassin, resolute to kill, Was foiled by your indomitable will. Immortal France! she cannot spare you yet, Till you have paid in full your filial debt, And by the great Redemption and Release Stamped Victory with the final seal of Peace.

* * * * *

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

_Monday, February 24th._--The mantle of the lamented Mr. JOSEPH KING, whose taste in _protégés_ was so remarkable, seems to have descended upon Colonel WEDGWOOD. His request for the return to this country of LAJPAT RAI, "the Indian patriot," aroused a storm of objection from other hon. Members, who considered the description inapplicable to a person deported for sedition. But it was quickly quelled by the SPEAKER with the unanswerable assertion that "everybody calls himself a patriot in these days."

Mr. RAPER sought an assurance that no "wrack"--which appears to be a term of art in the timber trade--should be used in the houses to be erected under the Government's new housing scheme. If these were not to be "the unsubstantial fabric of a vision," he implied, the official builders had better leave the wrack behind.

Something is at last to be done to reduce the growing plague of Questions. Hitherto each Member has been entitled to put down eight Questions for oral reply on any one day. But in future no one is to be permitted to "star" more than four Questions _per diem_. Even that is regarded by some Members as an extravagant allowance. Major HENNESSY, I understand, thinks "three stars" enough for any man.

"The Government is not a trustee for one class, but for all," was the leading theme of the PRIME MINISTER'S firm and tactful speech in introducing the Coal Industry Commission Bill. He was studiously conciliatory to the miners, but made it plain that they could not be allowed to put a pistol at the head of the general community.

The miners appear, however, to be in the mood of the little girl who said, "I don't want to go to bed; I want to be _in_ bed." The gist of eloquent speeches delivered on their behalf by Mr. HARTSHORN and Mr. RICHARDS was that the Government already possessed all the relevant facts, and should give the desired relief at once. But they mustered only 43 in the Division Lobby against 257 for the Second Reading.

_Tuesday, February 25th._--Their Lordships resumed their debate on Industrial Unrest. Lord RUSSELL attributed it mainly to ignorance--on the part of the capitalists and the newspapers, who, with few exceptions, never gave fair play to Labour. He was supported to some extent by His Grace of YORK, who declared that, after a perusal of the Labour Press and the non-Labour Press, he could hardly believe they were dealing with the same subject.

Up to almost the eleventh hour the Committee stage of the Coal Commission Bill in the Commons was not encouraging. The Labour representatives moved amendment after amendment, designed either to wreck the measure or to make the Commission a mere registration-office to approve their own cut-and-dried plans.

Mr. RICHARDS moved to omit wages and hours from its purview, but the House, brought up in the belief that _Hamlet_ without the _Prince of Denmark_ is but a poor play, voted him down by 270 to 40.

Then came another question-begging amendment from Mr. ADAMSON, suggesting that the Commission's inquiries into the possibilities of reorganising the mines should be limited to the single question of "nationalization"--the "blessed word" of Labour just now. This was supported in a capital maiden speech by Mr. SPOOR, an ex-pitman, whose father and son are both in the mines, and by Mr. CLYNES, who rather unreasonably complained that the HOME SECRETARY made SHORTT speeches; but it shared the same fate.

Not till the Bill was nearly through Committee was there any sign of _rapprochement_. Then, in response to the persuasive purring of Mr. BRACE, who had urged that the Commission should issue an interim report on wages and hours by March 12th, the PRIME MINISTER declared that, after consultation with Mr. Justice SANKEY, he was prepared to promise that the report should be ready on March 20th. A smile, extending almost to the extreme limits of his moustache, spread over Mr. BRACE'S benevolent countenance. Thenceforward all was peace, and the Third Reading was carried without a division.

_Wednesday, February 26th._--The Lords passed the Coal Industry Commission Bill through all its stages without a pause. Then Lord DEVONPORT expatiated on the mistakes of the Food Controllers with such a wealth of illustration that the LORD CHANCELLOR, who is fond of Classical "tags," was heard to murmur, _"Omnium consensu capax imperil nisi imperasset."_

A Second Reading was given to the Re-election of Ministers Bill, on the plea of the LORD CHANCELLOR that until it is passed several of his Ministerial colleagues will be _nantes in gurgite vasto_--or, in other words, all at sea.

Rumours that a new Department of Public Information was to be set up excited much curiosity in the Commons, but only negative replies were received. The Department, if, and when, it comes into existence, is not to advertise the virtues of the Coalition, nor is it to publish a newspaper of its own; though, to judge by the leaflets, circulars and _communiqués_ issued by the existing Ministries in the course of the week, such an organ would certainly not perish for lack of copy.

The so-called Ten Minutes' Rule was originally intended for the introduction of comparatively unimportant Bills. This after-noon Mr. SHORTT employed it for the purpose of explaining the provisions of one of the most revolutionary and comprehensive measures ever brought forward in any country. Briefly it is to put under the control of a single Minister of Ways and Communications our railways, our canals, our roads, and also our supply of electricity, hitherto in the hands of hundreds of public companies and local authorities. Only on one point did the Bill meet with opposition. I do not know whether Mr. JOYNSON HICKS claims any connection with Hicks's Hall, which stands in the old road-books as the starting-point of the great highway to the North, but he became almost lyrical in his denunciation of the proposal to put all the roads in the country in charge of a railwayman like Sir ERIC GEDDES. They ought, in his opinion, to be under the care of someone "born on roads" and "trained on roads"--a sort of super-tramp, I suppose.

_Thursday, February 27th._--To an appeal for an increase in the pensions of Crimea and Mutiny veterans, to meet the rise in the cost of living, response was made that such an increase would be granted in the case of those not over seventy years of age. It is not thought that the concession will cause a heavy drain on the national resources, few of the veterans having joined up before entering their 'teens.

As a retort, "Yah! German!" is, I am told, already considered _vieux jeu_ by the wits of the pavement. But Ulstermen and Nationalists still think it effective to twit one another with having been supplied with rifles from the arsenals of the Bosch. They bandied charges and contradictions so vigorously this afternoon that the SPEAKER had to intervene to put an end to these "nonsensical bickerings."

The SECRETARY OP THE TREASURY scouted the suggestion that County cricket-matches should be exempted from the entertainment tax. It is believed that his answer was based solely upon financial considerations, and that he must not be held to have expressed the opinion that first-class cricket, as played by certain counties, _is_, in point of fact, entertaining.

* * * * *

"German residents in South-west Africa have forwarded the Administrator a petition for transmission to President Wilson, claiming permission to erect a republic union with the Republic of Germany. The petitioners claim that they not only represent a majority of the white inhabitants, but interpret the views of the wishes of the majority of the majority of the ahmbahmbahmbah natives."

_New Zealand Paper_.

We should like to know more of this remarkable tribe, which, _inter alia_, seems to have evolved a new method of proportional representation.

* * * * *

THE RED WINE OF THE COUNTRY.

"Did I iver tell ye," asked ex-Sergeant O'Reilly, filling his pipe from my tobacco-jar, "about the red wine?"

"I remember a story about sparkling Burgundy," I said.

"Och, that wouldn't be it at all. 'Twas another time altogither."

"Well," I said, "tell me about the red wine."

"'Twas this way." O'Reilly leant back in his chair, covered his maimed hand with a pocket-handkerchief--a curious way he had--and looked at me with that expression of openness and simplicity which demands confidence. "We was 'way back o' the line at the time, at a place where ye'd expect to get a taste o' rest; but what wid fancy attacks an' 'special coorses' (thim 's the divil an' all!) there wasn't enough rest for an honest man to get into mischief. Well, there was to be a grand inshpection by a tremenjus brass-hat, one o' thim soort all over ribbons that rides wid a shtiff back. 'Twas the mornin' before the great day whin the O.C. comes to me all of a flutter, an' says he, 'Sergint, ye've a chanct now to do me a good turn.'

"'I'll do it, Sorr,' says I, 'if it costs me my shtripes.'

"'The fact is,' says he, 'we've run out o' claret, an' there's no dacent shtuff to be had for twinty miles round; annyway, that's what I'm tould. Now the Gin'ral has a great fancy for red wine.'

"''Tis a sad business,' says I.