Chapter 2

_Sir FREDERICK BANBURY is speaking._ But it stands to reason, If you propose to pay them just the same Whether they write a little or a lot, They won't write _anything_. There will not be Sufficient stimulus. It's human nature, And human nature is unchangeable. Do you imagine, Sir, that KEATS or SHELLEY Would have produced such valuable work, So large an output, if this precious Bill Had been in operation at the time? We should have had no SHAKSPEARE. And, besides, It means the death of British poetry, Because we can't continue to compete With foreign countries. _A Labour Member._ I am not a lawyer Nor I am not a manufacturer, But earned my bread these five-and-forty years, Sweating and sweating. I know what sweat is.... _An Hon. Member._ You're not the only person who has sweated. _Labour Member._ At any rate I sweated more than you did. _Mr. SPEAKER._ I do not think these constant interruptions Are really helping us. _Labour Member._ So you may take it That what I utter is an honest word, A plain, blunt, honest and straightforward word, Neither adorned with worthless flummery And tricks of language--for I have no learning-- Nor yet with false and empty rhetoric Like lawyers' speeches. I am not a lawyer, I thank my stars that I am not a lawyer, And can without a spate of parleying Briefly expound, as I am doing now, The whole caboodle. As for this here Bill, So far as it means Nationalising verse, We shall support it. On the other hand, So far as it means interferences With the free liberty of working-men To write their poetry when and how they like, We will not _have_ the Bill. So now you know. _Mr. ASQUITH._ It was remarked, I think by ARISTOTLE, That wisdom is not always to the wise; To which opinion, if we may include In that august and jealous category The President of the Board of Ululation, I am prepared most freely to subscribe. When was there ever since the early Forties A more grotesque and shameless mockery Of the austere and holy principles Which Liberalism like an altar-flame Has guarded through the loose irreverent years Than this inept, this disingenuous, This frankly disingenuous attempt; To smuggle past the barrier of this House An article so plainly contraband As this unlicens'd and contagious Bill-- A Bill which, it is not too much to say, Insults the conscience of the British Empire? I will not longer, Sir, detain the House; Indeed I cannot profitably add To what I said in 1892. Speaking at Manchester I used these words:-- "If in the inconstant ferment of their minds The KING'S advisers can indeed discover No surer ground of principle than this; If we have here their final contribution To the most clamant and profound conundrum Ever proposed for statesmanship to solve, Then are we watching at the bankruptcy Of all that wealth of intellect and power Which has made England great. If that be true We may put FINIS to our history. But I for one will never lend my suffrage To that conclusion." [_An Ovation._ _MR. DAVID LLOYD GEORGE._ Mr. SPEAKER, Sir, I do not intervene in this discussion Except to say how much I deprecate The intemperate tone of many of the speakers-- Especially the Honourable Member For Allways Dithering--about this Bill, This tiny Bill, this teeny-weeny Bill. What _is_ it, after all? The merest trifle! The merest trifle--no, not tipsy-cake-- No trickery in it! Really one would think The Government had nothing else to do But sit and listen to offensive speeches. How can the horse, the patient horse, go on If people will keep dragging at the reins? He has so terrible a load to bear, And right in front there is a great big hill. The horse is very tired, and it is raining. Poor little horse! But yonder, at the top, Look, look, there is a rainbow in the sky, The promise of fair weather, and beyond There is a splendidly-appointed stable, With oats and barley, or whatever 'tis That horses eat, while smiling all around Stretch out the prairies of Prosperity, Cornfields and gardens, all that sort of thing. That's where the horse is going. But, you see, The horse has got to climb the great big hill Before he gets there. Oh, you must see that. Then let us cease this petty bickering; Let us have no more dragging at the reins. What _is_ this Bill when all is said and done? Surely this House, surely this mighty nation, Which did so much for horses in the War, Will not desert this little horse at last Because of what calumniators say-- Newspaper-owners--_I_ know who they are-- About this Bill! No, no, of course it won't. We will take heart and gallop up the hill, We will climb up together to the rainbow; We will go on to where the rainbow ends-- I know where that is, for I am a Welshman. It is a field, a lovely little field, Where there are buttercups and daffodils, And long rich grass and very shady trees. Hold on a little, and the horse will get there, Only, I ask you, let the horse have rein. That is my message to the British nation: "Hold on! Hold fast! But do not hold too tight!"

[_An Ovation. A Division is taken. The Ayes have it._

A.P.H.

* * * * *

TRUE SPORTSMANLIKE BEHAVIOUR.

* * * * *

* * * * *

WORD CHAINS.

Sheila Davies and her brother had cycled over to play tennis. They sat, with John and myself, on the steps and watched the rain falling.

"As a matter of general interest," said Arthur Davies to me, "when a man invites his friends and neighbours over to play tennis and it pours with rain all the time, what is the correct thing for him to do?"

"As a matter of general interest," I answered, "the good host will send the ladies to play the piano, if any, and to talk scandal, whether there is any or not. He will himself conduct the men of the party to the billiard-room or the smoking-room and offer them cigarettes and whisky--if any."

"Ah," said Davies, "then it isn't usual just to keep them sitting miserably on the steps watching the net float away?"

John, on whose steps we were sitting, felt the need of speech.

"I have often wondered," he said, turning to Miss Davies, "how your brother ever got into such a nice family as yours. How do you keep so cheerful with it always about?"

"One gets used to it in time," said Miss Davies.

"I suppose so," said John. "After all, we have the same sort of family disaster in Alan, but we manage to bear up."

Davies rose.

"You and I don't seem popular here," he said to me. "Will you conduct me to the billiard-room or the smoking-room? I am in need of a wash."

"As a matter of general interest," said John to Miss Davies, "is it the correct thing to wash _before_ setting out to visit friends, or can it be left until some hours after arrival?"

Miss Davies sighed heavily.

"If you two are going to sit here thinking of clever remarks to make about each other I shall go home. For goodness' sake let's pretend we are enjoying ourselves."

"I _am_ enjoying myself," said John plaintively; "I've been wanting to say what I really think of your brother for years."

"Well, don't do it now. Things are miserable enough without having discussions on Arthur. Let's all have a game at something, shall we?"

"Splendid idea," said her brother. "What about tennis?"

"We might get into bathing togs and play polo," I suggested.

"That's not a bad notion," said John, "and then he needn't have a wash until to-morrow."

"I suggest," continued Miss Davies, "that we play at Word Chains."

Davies buried his face in his hands and groaned.

"It sounds fine," I said gallantly. "What is it?"

"Well, it's really a sort of mind exercise. They recommend it in those courses, you know," said Miss Davies, "er--'it stimulates a logical sequence in reasoning and quickens the mental processes.'"

"Is that what they say about it?" asked John fearfully.

"But it makes a splendid game," added Miss Davies eagerly. "Let me explain it to you and you'll see. First of all we think of a word, such as--er-- 'margarine.'"

"Why?" asked John.

"It's part of the game, of course," said Miss Davies indignantly.

"Oh, I see--of course. How stupid of me!" said John.

"Then we think of another word quite different, such as--"

"'Hippopotamus,'" I suggested.

"That's right," said Miss Davies.

I stood up and bowed.

"Well, I'm hanged!" said John. "Jolly good, Alan. However did you guess it? Has he won?" he asked Miss Davies.

"Of course not," said she; "we haven't begun yet."

I sat down again hurriedly.

"Then," continued Miss Davies, "we take turns, starting with the word 'margarine' and making a chain, each word being connected in some way with the one before it. And whoever can get to the word 'hippopotamus' first has won."

"One hippopotamus?" asked John.

"WON," said Miss Davies sweetly.

Her brother groaned again.

"I'll just give you an easy example," went on Miss Davies enthusiastically, "and then we'll begin. Take the words 'fire' and 'nigger.' A good chain would be 'fire--coal--black--nigger.' Do you see?

John and I made sounds expressing that we thought we did. Davies just went on groaning.

"Very well," said Miss Davies, "we'll begin. Now don't forget. We start with 'margarine' and try to get to 'hippopotamus.' The great thing is to keep the word 'hippopotamus' in your mind all the time and keep trying to work towards it. Are you ready? Right! I'll start with 'grease.'"

"Greece?" said John, looking startled.

"Yes, margarine--grease," explained Miss Davies.

"Oh, I see," said John, "er--oil."

I thought seriously for a moment.

"Salad," I said, looking round for approval.

"Splendid," said Miss Davies. "Now you, Arthur."

"I refuse--Oh, all right," he said. "Where have we--'salad'--er-- 'lobster.'"

Do you catch the idea, as it were? We seemed to fall into the way of it in a moment. Once we had tried we progressed at a tremendous rate. Perhaps we are all very clever, or perhaps it was really easier than it seems in the telling, but looking back the conversation seems to have been simply brilliant.

Well, here's an idea of how we went on, anyway, and you can judge for yourselves (Davies, you remember, has just snapped out "Lobster"):--

_Miss Davies_ (quick as lightning). Shrimp.

_John_. Whiskers. (A very subtle one, this.)

_Me_. Beard. (Rather weak effort.)

_Davies._ Moustache. (Weaker still; received with groans.)

_Miss Davies_ (quick as another lightning). CHARLIE CHAPLIN. (Loud cheers here and laughter, followed by a long pause while John thinks.) At last:--

_John._ MARY PICKFORD.

_Me_ (after another pause). DOUGLAS FAIRBANKS.

_Davies_ (indicating with a wave of the hand that it has been forced on him). D.W. GRIFFITHS.

There is a slight hold-up at this point while Miss Davies tells her brother that he is not trying, and he says he knows he isn't. Miss Davies gets back on to the track amidst applause, however, with:--

"Broken Blossoms."

After this things went on for a long time, hours and hours I should say. I remember that we mentioned among many subjects of interest sausage-rolls, horoscopes, hair-pins, Cleopatra's Needle and lung-wort. I must resist the temptation to tell the whole absorbing story in detail, and skip rapidly to the point where the chase reached the following interesting stage:--

_Miss Davies_ (still going strong). Whale.

_John_ (struggling hard but growing weak). Oil.

_Me_ (quite innocently). Grease.

_Davies_ (triumphantly). MARGARINE.

I looked at Miss Davies in embarrassment. John gazed round pitifully.

"But," he murmured weakly, "isn't that where we started?"

"Of course it is," said Miss Davies indignantly. "You've spoilt the whole game, Arthur."

"Well, I can't help it," said her brother; "I thought that was the word we were after. What was it, anyway?"

We all looked at the sky and thought hard.

"Hanged if I know," said John.

"I'm sure I don't," I said.

"Well, isn't that ridiculous?" said Miss Davies.

"Of course it is," said her brother brutally; "I _knew_ it was ridiculous from the beginning. _You_ said it quickened the mental processes. Would memory be one of them?"

"Let's go inside and have some tea," said John.

We crept quietly indoors.

* * * * *

Halfway through tea Miss Davies suddenly waved her teaspoon aloft. We looked at her and saw a great light shining in her eyes.

"Hip--hip--hippopotamus!" she shrieked.

We all agreed that Miss Davies had won.

* * * * *

* * * * *

MAGNANIMITY.

There was once a satirical pup Who with newspaper rule was fed up, So he wrote bitter rhymes Which disparaged _The Times_ But were praised in its weekly _Lit. Supp._

* * * * *

"The Canadian officials refused to allow her to land because she did not proopse to carry out her original intention tom arry Captain ----, and the New Yorkaut horities declined to interfere with the Canadian decision."--_Daily Paper._

But what we really want to know is where Tom and 'Arry come in.

* * * * *

"NEW YORK, Sunday.

The s.s. Minnehaha left here yesterday for London with fifty crates of American birds and a great variety of animals.

Three trunks were carried for the oppossum to build in and for the beavers to gnaw."--_Daily Mirror._

Nothing is said about the other creatures' luggage.

* * * * *

From the time-table of a Hampshire motor-service:--

"The Fares between any points on any route will be found where the vertical line of figures under the name of one of the points meets the horizontal line of figures which terminates in the name of the other of the two points between which it is desired to travel."

The Hampshire Hog needs to be a very learned pig.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE REEFS.

All the grim rocks that stand guard about Scilly-- Wingletang, Great Smith and Little Granilly, The Barrel of Butter, Dropnose and Hellweather-- Started to boast of their conquests together, Of drowned men and gallant, tall vessels laid low While gulls wheeled about them like flurries of snow And green combers romped at them smashing in thunder, Gurgling and booming in caverns down under, Sending their diamond-drops flying in showers. "Oh," said the reefs, "what a business is ours! Since saints in coracles paddled from Erin (Fishing our waters for sinners and herrin') And purple-sailed triremes of Hamilco came To the Islands of Tin, we've played at the game. We shattered the galleys of conquering Rome, The galleons of PHILIP that scudded for home (The sea-molluscs slime on their glittering gear); We plundered the plundering French privateer, We caught the great Indiaman head in the wind And gutted her hold of the treasures of Ind; We sank a whole fleet of three-deckers one night (The drift of the sand keeps their culverins bright), And cloudy tea-clippers that raced from Canton Swept into our clutches--and never went on. Come steel leviathans scorning disaster We scrapped them as fast--if anything faster. So pick up your pilot and take a cross-bearing, Sound us and chart us from Lion to Tearing, And ring us with lighthouses, day-marks and buoys, The gales are our hunters, the fogs our decoys. We shall not go hungry; we grin and we wait, Black-fanged and foam-drabbled, the wolves at the Gate."

PATLANDER.

* * * * *

AWAY TO THE MEADOWS!

Although the cost of everything is on the rise there are still a few good things that quite a little money can buy. One pound, for example--or, if you prefer it, twenty shillings--can work wonders by taking (under the auspices of the Children's Country Holiday Fund) a London child away from our smoke and grime for a fortnight of country air and surprises, excitements and joys. The Fund (the Hon. Treasurer of which is the Earl of ARRAN, 18, Buckingham Street, Strand, London) must not now be restricted because lodgings and railway fares are dearer. Last year the sum asked for each child was just half what is now required; but the increase is necessary. Yet even with the increase it is not great, considering the good that it can do! In spite of all the other claims of the moment upon his readers' generosity, Mr. Punch trusts that this modest and most excellent ameliorative organisation will not be neglected.

* * * * *

"The police are divided in their opinions as to whether Mamie is still alive or whether she has gone to Canada."--_Provincial Paper._

Why this "down" on the Dominion?

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* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

_Monday, July 5th._--When the Germans left Peking after the Boxer Rebellion they took with them the astronomical instruments which had hung for centuries on its walls. How the Celestial equivalent of _Old Moore_ has managed to translate the message of the stars without their assistance I cannot imagine; but the Chinese Government does not appear to be worrying, for, though it was specifically provided at Versailles that the instruments should be returned, China has omitted to sign the Peace Treaty.

There are the makings of a great statesman in Sir JOHN REES. Some apprehension having been expressed lest France should prohibit the importation of silk mourning crêpe and so injure an old British industry, he was quick to suggest a remedy. "Would it not be possible," he asked in his most insinuating tones, "to have a deal between silk and champagne?" And the House, which is not yet entirely composed of "Pussyfeet," gave him an approving cheer.

A certain General GOLOVIN having published statements reflecting on Mr. CHURCHILL'S conduct of the campaign in North Russia last year, that section of the House which is always ready to take the word of any foreigner as against that of any Englishman, particularly of any English Minister, at once assumed that the charges were correct. The SECRETARY OF STATE FOR WAR was in his place, with the light of battle in his eye, ready to meet his enemies in the gate. But by the time Mr. BONAR LAW had done with them there was not much left of the charges. So far as the statements were true, he said, they merely repeated what was already familiar to the House. Everybody knew that the Government was helping the anti-Bolshevik forces last year. But the story that Mr. CHURCHILL had taken his orders from Admiral KOLTCHAK was both untrue and absurd. He had simply carried out the policy of the Government, a policy which, though some hon. Members did not seem to appreciate it, had now been altered.

Committee on the Finance Bill saw the annual assault on the tea duty. "We are going to drop this duty directly we are in a position to do so," said Commander KENWORTHY, with his eye on the Treasury Bench. "Who are we?" shouted the Coalitionists; and it presently appeared that "we" did not include Sir DONALD MACLEAN, but did include Colonel WEDGWOOD, who, as becomes one of his name, was all for a generous tea-pot.

Undeterred by his failure over tea, Commander KENWORTHY next attacked the duty on films, complaining _inter alia_, "Mr. CHAPLIN is taxed twenty pounds for every thousand feet." Mr. CHAMBERLAIN defended the tax on general grounds, but wisely avoided Mr. CHAPLIN'S feet, over which it is notoriously easy to trip.

The debate on the beer duty shattered one more illusion. It is an article of faith with the "Wee Frees" that Sir GEORGE YOUNGER is the power behind the scenes, and that Mr. LLOYD GEORGE is a mere marionette, who only exists to do his bidding. Yet here was the autocrat confessing, _quâ_ brewer, that the latest addition to the beer duty was the biggest surprise of his life.

_Tuesday, July 6th._--The LORD CHANCELLOR'S request for leave of absence in order that he might attend the Spa Conference was granted. Lord CREWE'S remark, that it was "a matter of regret that the Government had to depend upon the noble and learned lord for legal assistance," might perhaps have been less ambiguously worded. At any rate Lord BIRKENHEAD thought it necessary to allay any possible apprehensions by adding that he would be accompanied by the ATTORNEY-GENERAL.

The gist of Mr. CHURCHILL'S comprehensive reply to allegations of waste at Chilwell was that there were not enough sheds to cover all the stores, and that to build additional accommodation would cost more than it would save. There was a pleasant Hibernian flavour about his admission that the goods, "if they remained in their present condition, would, of course, deteriorate."

Who says that D.O.R.A. has outlived her usefulness? The HOME SECRETARY announced that the sale of chocolates in theatres is still _verboten_, so the frugal swain, whose "best girl" has a healthy appetite, may breathe again.

Mr. CLYNES, usually so cautious, was in a reckless mood. First he tried to move the adjournment over the GOLOVIN revelations, and was informed by the SPEAKER that a report of doubtful authenticity, relating to events that happened over a year ago, could hardly be described as either "urgent" or "definite."

Next, on the Finance Bill, he shocked his temperance colleagues by boldly demanding cheaper beer. But, although he received the powerful support of Admiral Sir R. HALL, he failed to soften the heart of the CHANCELLOR, who declared that he must have his increased revenue, and that the beer-drinker must pay his share of it.