Chapter 2

Further, consider the question of dress. Even the gunners, who in the late war used to wear riding-breeches of their favourite colour, no matter what it was, the kind of footgear they most fancied, and any old variety of hat they thought becoming, are shocked by the fantastic kit that is countenanced in this latitude. It must be borne in mind that most of us are old campaigners and old nomads whose tailors have grown accustomed to build us appropriate gear for various climes. Fashions for fighting in France, in Egypt, in Mesopotamia, have gained a hold upon our affections, to say nothing of those designs for civil breadwinning or moss-dodging in Central Africa, Bond Street, Kirkcaldy or Dawson City. The consequence is that here, pretty well out of A.P.M. range, sartorial individualism flourishes unchecked. Thus the eye is startled to behold a fur headdress as big as a busby, an ordinary service tunic, gaberdine breeches, shooting stockings and Shackleton boots, going about as component parts of one officer's make-up; or snow-goggles worn with flannel trousers, or sharp-toothed Boreas defied by a bare head and a chamois-leather jerkin; or the choice flowers of Savile Row associated with Canadian moccasins.

What idea will the North Russians retain of the outward appearance of the typical British officer? How will the little Lapps, befurred and smiling, who come sliding to market behind the trotting reindeer, report of us to the smaller Lapps at home? In any case I hope we shall found a legend of a well-meaning if peculiar and patchwork people.

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"Gas Stoker wanted for 11 million works, used to gas engine and exhauster; 50_s_. per week of seven 12-hour shifts."--_Advt. in Daily Paper_.

In the circumstances the reference to "exhauster" seems superfluous.

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NEW AIDS TO THE ANGRY.

The readers of the Personal Column of _The Times_ were lately refreshed by the following entry:--

"Would the person in the green Tyrolese hat note that though it may be a custom on his own course to pocket golf-balls on the fairway, it is not done elsewhere."

For long the Personal Column has been a vehicle for appeal and regret, for affection and grief, in addition to its other manifold uses; but as an instrument of admonishment it is fresh. The tragic thing is that up to the time of going to press the green Tyrolese hat has made no reply. Either it does not read _The Times_ or it has been rendered speechless. We were longing for some first-class recriminations.

The new fashion is sure to spread. For example, any morning we are liable to find this:--

Would the lady (?) in the purple toque note that, though it may be the thing in her home to disregard the feelings of others, the abstraction of someone else's chair at a White Sale at Blankridge's is not the thing.

And again:--

The female with a red parasol, who thought it her duty to struggle like a wild-cat for a place on a No. 11 bus, opposite the Stores, on Friday afternoon last at a quarter to three, may be interested in learning that the service is not run solely for her.

And a more intimate note still may be struck. Something like this may be looked for:--

Will Lydia Lopokova take pity on an unhappy and neglected wife, whose husband has stated that he would resume dining at home only on condition that the table was laid as it is laid in _The Good-Humoured Ladies_?

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BEFORE.

Before I was a little girl I was a little bird, I could not laugh, I could not dance, I could not speak a word; But all about the woods I went and up into the sky-- And isn't it a pity I've forgotten how to fly?

I often came to visit you. I used to sit and sing Upon our purple lilac bush that smells so sweet in Spring; But when you thanked me for my song of course you never knew I soon should be a little girl and come to live with you.

R. F.

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MORE DILLYDALLYING.

"Arbitration is to be adopted first in disputes between members of the League, then meditation by the Council."--_Liverpool Paper_.

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THE TREACHEROUS SON.

I certainly hoped when I took up my quarters in this quiet village that there would be no jarring note to disturb the idyllic peace of my surroundings. And yet I had not been long in this pleasant sitting-room, with its outlook on blossom-laden fruit-trees, creamy-spired chestnuts and wooded down, before I became aware that a pitiful and rather sordid little domestic drama was in progress within fifty yards from my open windows. I discovered a son in the act of encouraging his aged and apparently imbecile parent to gamble with a professional swindler! Not that I have actually seen them thus engaged. As a matter of fact I have merely heard a few short remarks--and those were all spoken by the son. But, as everyone knows, even a single sentence accidentally overheard by an observant stranger may give him a clearer insight into the unknown, and possibly unseen, speaker's character than could be gained from countless chapters of a modern analytical novel.

So these four sentences were quite enough for _me_. Perhaps I should mention here that the three personages in this drama are birds--which makes it all the more painful.

Like many of our British birds, the sole speaker occasionally drops into English, or I should never have understood what was going on. He may be a blackbird or thrush, but I doubt it, because I know all _their_ remarks, while his are new to me. If A.A.M. heard them he would probably tell me they were those of a "Blackman's Warbler," and I should have believed him--once. Hardly now, after he has so airily exposed his title as an authority; but even as it is I should not dream of questioning his statement that "the egg of course is rather more speckled," because I can well believe that the egg this bird--whatever he is--came from was very badly speckled indeed.

It seems that, some time ago--I can't say when exactly, but it was before I came down here--this unnatural son introduced to the parental abode (which I think is either No. 5 or No. 6 in a row of young chestnuts abutting on the high road) a rook of more than dubious reputation, whom he persuaded his unsuspecting sire to put up for the night. And there the rook has been ever since. As I said, I have neither heard nor seen him, but I'm positive he's _there_. I am unable to give the precise date on which he first led the conversation to the good old English game of "rigging the thimble"--that also was before I came. All I can state with certainty is that he interested his host in it so effectually that now the infatuated old fool is playing it all day long.

This is evident from his son's conversation; during the pause which invariably precedes it I should undoubtedly hear the father-bird (if he would only speak up--which he doesn't) quavering, "I'm not sure, my boy, I'm not _sure_, but I've a notion that, _this_ time, he's left the pea under the _middle_ thimble--eh?"

On which the young scoundrel, knowing well that it is elsewhere, pipes out, "There it _is_, Fa-ther, there it _is_, Fa-ther!" with an unctuous humility shading into impatient contempt that is simply indescribable, being indeed too revolting for words.

Then, as the father still wavers, his son makes some observations which I cannot quite follow, but take to be on the fairness of the game as played with a sportsbird, and the certainty that the luck must turn sooner or later. After which he exhorts him--this time in plain English--to "be a bird." Whereupon the doting old parent decides that he _will_ be a bird and back the middle thimble, and the next moment I hear the son exclaim, evidently referring to the rook, "No, '_e_'s got it; no, '_e_'s got it. Cheer up! Cheer up!" with a perfunctory concern that is but a poor disguise for indecent exultation. I am not suggesting, by the way, that birds are in the habit of dropping their "h's"--but _this_ one does. There are times when he is so elated by his parent's defeat that he cannot repress an outburst of inarticulate devilry. And so the game goes on, minute after minute, hour after hour, every day from dawn to dusk. The amount of grains or grubs or whatever the stakes may be (and it is not likely that any rook would play for love), that that old idiot must have lost even since I have been here, is beyond all calculation. He has never once been allowed to spot the right thimble, but he _will_ go on. As to the son's motive in permitting it, any bird of the world would tell you that, if you possess a senile parent who is bound to be rooked by somebody, it had better be by a person with whom you can come to a previous arrangement.

Now I come to think of it, though, I have not heard the unnatural offspring once since I sat down to write this. Can it have dawned at last upon his parent that this is one of those little games where the odds are a trifle too heavy in favour of the Table? Or can the son have sickened of his own villainy and washed his claws of his shady confederate? I don't know why, but I am almost beginning to hope.... No; through the open window comes the well-known cry, "There it _is_, Fa-ther! There it _is_, Fa-ther! Be a bird! Be a _bird_!... No, '_e_'s got it! No, '_e_'s got it! Cheer up! Cheer up!" They are at it again!

F.A.

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A SHADY TENANT.

[From inquiries made by a _Daily Chronicle_ representative it appears that the present demand for housing accommodation is such that people no longer draw the line at ghosts.]

The problem at last is a thing of the past; Doubts and fears, Geraldine, are at rest; We can put up the banns and make definite plans, For the love-birds will soon have a nest. I've inspected, my sweet, the sequestered retreat In which we are destined to dwell, And on thinking things out I have not the least doubt It will suit us exceedingly well.

There are drawbacks, I grant, but one nowadays can't Have perfection, as you are aware, And I'm sure you won't grouse when I state that the house Is both damp and in need of repair. I might add there's a floor that shows traces of gore; I discovered the latter to be That of one Lady Jane, who was brutally slain By her husband in Sixteen-Two-Three.

Years have passed since the time of that dastardly crime, But the victim's intangible shade Can be seen to this day, so the villagers say, In diaphanous garments arrayed. In the gloom of the room where she met with her doom She's appearing once nightly, it seems, And the listener quails as lugubrious wails Are succeeded by agonised screams.

But the trivial flaws I have mentioned need cause No concern; I am certain that you Will approve of my choice, Geraldine, and rejoice In the thought that our haven's in view. In the likely event of your mother's descent There's the warmest of welcomes in store, And a rug I'll provide for her bedroom, to hide That indelible stain on the floor.

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* * * * *

* * * * *

THE NEW ARM.

_(On perceiving William in mufti again and carrying one.)_

What is this implement of warfare, Bill? What seed of fire within its entrails slumbers? Does it unfold at all? Run through the drill, Doing it first by numbers.

Not a grenade and not a parachute? Some remnant rather of the ancient folly, Some touch of times before the Big Dispute? I have it now! A brolly.

Yes, and it opens outwards like a tent, Guarding the sacred poll from skies injurious. Up with it! Let us see your tops'ls bent. How splendid! And how curious!

Do it again, Bill. I am better now; Only at first, perhaps, I slightly trembled. Press on the little clutch and show me how The parts are reassembled.

To think men poked these things into the sky, Fearing to face the storm's minutest particles, Through four long hectic years, whilst you and I Forgot there were such articles.

It brings the old times back to one again, The grim-eyed crowd that faced the morning's dolours Doing their very best to drip the rain Down other people's collars;

The fond, fond pair beneath a single dome; The fight to ride on Hammersmiths and Chelseas; The rapture when you found on reaching home Your gamp was someone else's.

O symbol of routine and office hours! O emblem of the soft civilian status! Shall I too deign to roof me from the showers With such an apparatus?

Shall I consent to grasp within my hand The sign of serfdom and to get the habit Of marching like a mushroom down the Strand, A mushroom on a rabbit?

Never. O hateful sight! And yet--and yet I'm not so sure. This month has been a dry one; June will most probably be beastly wet; P'r'aps, after all, I'll buy one.

EVOE.

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EAST IS EAST.

"The Girl Guides are doing well.... Another guide was married this month to Corporal ----. We wish them all happiness."--_Diocesan Magazine (India)._

Corporal ---- appears to be a specialist.

* * * * *

"There are persistent rumours of a plot to bring back the old régime and put either a Hohenzollern or a representative of some other Royal house on the Thorne of Germany."--_Canadian Paper_.

EX-KAISER (_loq_.): "No, thanks; I've had some."

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"OXFORD FOR HOLIDAYS.--Most beautiful city in England. Good lodgings and boating. Two golf links and fishing."--_Advt. in Provincial Paper_.

We seem to remember, too, some mention of an educational establishment in connection with the place.

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OUR HELPFUL CONTEMPORARIES.

"There have been cases, we believe, in which the height of a person has increased after the person had reached mature age, but it has always been suspected that this was due to greater uprightness. A man who stoops always looks shorter than when he is standing quite upright. But no such explanation as this can be given for an apparent increase of the human head. If a head really requires a larger hat it must be because the head is larger."--_Provincial Paper_.

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ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

_Monday, May 19th._--The coalminers lately received concessions in wages and hours that are going to cost the country twenty millions sterling in the present financial year. The first result of this boon (_teste_ Sir AUCKLAND GEDDES) is that they are turning out less coal per man than ever, and that the unhappy consumer must look forward to a further reduction in his already meagre ration. It is rather hard upon Mr. SMILLIE, who daily dilates in the Coal Commission upon the hardships of the miner's life, that his clients should let him down like this.

For a thorough-going democrat commend me to Lieutenant-Commander KENWORTHY, the new Member for Central Hull, whose latest idea is that before British troops are sent to any new front the approval of the House of Commons should be obtained. I suspect that if, during his active-service days, some Member had proposed a similar restriction on the movements of the Fleet the comments of the gallant Commander himself would have been more pithy than Parliamentary.

The number of motor-cars at the disposal of the Air Ministry now stands at the apparently irreducible minimum of forty-two. Quite a number of the officials use train or bus, like ordinary folk; some have even been seen to walk; and there has been such a slump in "joy-riding" that when asked if ladies were now carried in the official chariots General SEELY was able to assure the House that that never happens; though I think he added under his breath--"well, hardly ever."

There was barely a quorum when Colonel LESLIE WILSON rose to introduce the estimates of the Shipping Controller. This was a pity, for he had a good story to tell of the mercantile marine, and told it very well. He was less successful on the subject of the "national shipyards," which have cost four millions of money and in two years have not succeeded in turning out a single completed ship. With the wisdom that comes after the event Sir CHARLES HENRY fulminated ferociously against the "superman" who had imposed this "disastrous scheme" upon the country.

This brought up the superman himself, Sir ERIC GEDDES, who in the most vigorous speech he has yet delivered in the House defended the scheme as being absolutely essential at the time it was initiated. It was a war-time expedient, which changing circumstances had rendered unnecessary; but if the War and the U-boat campaign had gone on it might have been the salvation of the country. After all you can't expect to have shipyards without making a few slips.

_Tuesday, May 20th._--The advance of woman continues. Very soon she will have her foot upon the first rung of the judicial ladder, and be able to write J.P. after her name, for the LORD CHANCELLOR, pointing out that in this matter the Government were bound to honour the pledges of the PRIME MINISTER, gracefully swallowed Lord BEAUCHAMP'S Bill. He took occasion, however, to warn the prospective justicesses (if that is the right term) that, as the Commissions of the Peace were already fully manned, it might be some time before any large number of ladies could be added to the roll of those who, in the words of the Prayer-book, "indifferently administer justice."

Quite unintentionally, of course, Mr. BOTTOMLEY did the Government a real service in the Commons. Every day since his return from Paris Mr. BONAR LAW has been pestered with inquiries as to when, if ever, the House was to be allowed to discuss the Peace terms, and has evaded a direct answer with more or less ingenuity. This afternoon Mr. BOTTOMLEY, after hearing that the LEADER OF THE HOUSE had "nothing to add" to his previous replies, asked if he was right in supposing that, when the Treaty came up for ratification, the House must take it or leave it, and would have no power to amend it in any respect. Mr. LAW joyfully jumped at the chance of ending the daily catechism once for all. "That," he said, "exactly represents the position, and I do not see in what other way any Treaty could ever be arranged."

In anticipation of the debate on the Finance Bill Mr. SYDNEY ARNOLD sought an admission from the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER that the income-tax on small incomes was hardly worth retaining, owing to the cost of collection. Not at all, said Mr. CHAMBERLAIN. It costs six hundred thousand pounds and brings in eight million. Of course, he added, it costs more proportionately to collect small amounts than large. If the whole of the income-tax could be paid by one individual the cost of collection would be _nil_. One imagined the CHANCELLOR on the eve of the Budget wishing, _à la_ NERO, that the whole of the British people had but one purse, into which he could dip as deeply and as often as he pleased.

The debate on the Finance Bill was largely devoted to the proposed "levy on capital," which a section of the "Wee Frees," who already display fissiparous tendencies, have borrowed from the Labourites. After their amendment was framed, however, Mr. ASQUITH spoke at Newcastle, and ostentatiously refused to say a word about the new nostrum. Sir DONALD MACLEAN, anxious to avoid displeasing either his old leader or his new supporters, contented himself with the suggestion that a Commission should be set up to consider the subject.

The CHANCELLOR had little difficulty in disposing of the amendment. He might, indeed, have contented himself with quoting the War Bond advertisements, which daily inform us that the patriotic investor "will receive the whole of his money back with a substantial premium."

The Preference proposals which Mr. ACLAND had described as bred "by Filial Piety out of the Board of Trade" received the unexpected aid of Sir ALFRED MOND, who disposed of his Cobdenite prejudices as easily as the conjurer swallows his gloves, and unblushingly asserted that the tiny Preference now proposed, far from being the advance-guard of Protection, was in reality a very strong movement towards Free Trade. Comforted by this authoritative declaration Coalition Liberals helped the Government to defeat the amendment by 317 to 72.

_Wednesday, May 21st._--The Peers being as usual rather short of work at this period of the Session, the LORD CHANCELLOR introduced a Bill "to enable the Official Solicitor for the time being to exercise powers and duties conferred on the person holding the office of Official Solicitor."

The rumours that have lately appeared in the papers, to the effect that the FIRST COMMISSIONER OF WORKS was contemplating revolutionary alterations at Hampton Court--in particular that he was going to transform the famous pond-garden into something quite different: a MOND-garden, in fact--are, it seems, grossly exaggerated. All that he has done is to appoint a Committee of experts to advise him what, if any, changes are desirable.

The resumed debate on the Finance Bill was enlivened by some personal details. By way of showing that even without a levy on capital the rich man bears his share of the burdens of the State, Sir EDWARD CARSON remarked that, when he receives a retainer, he immediately allows for the super-tax and enters it in his fee-book at only half the amount. He had had one that very morning. "Say it was five pounds"--and the House laughed loudly at such an absurd supposition.

Then we had Lord HUGH CECIL pointing his argument that the importance of the proposed Preference to the Dominions was political rather than economical by the remark that if he was going to be married--which he fervently hoped would not happen to him--he would expect his mythical bride to value his engagement-ring less for its pecuniary than its sentimental value.

A capital speech by Mr. STANLEY BALDWIN, one of the few men in the House who talks finance as if he really understood it, wound up the debate, and procured the Finance Bill a second reading _nem. con._

_Thursday, May 22nd._--The Ministry of Health Bill came up for third reading in the Lords. An eleventh-hour attempt by the Government to provide the new Minister with an additional Under-Secretary was heavily defeated, Lord DOWNHAM being appropriately enough one of the Tellers for the Opposition.

The Commons heard some good news. Mr. KENDALL'S pathetic story of an angling-party which, after walking five miles along a dusty road to its favourite hostelry, found it adorned with the now too frequent notice, "Closed--No Beer," brought a most sympathetic reply from Mr. GEORGE ROBERTS, who boldly confessed, "I am a believer in good beer myself," and later on announced that the Government had decided to increase the output from twenty million to twenty-six million standard barrels.

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