Read Ebook: Punch or the London Charivari Volume 153 September 5 1917 by Various

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Ebook has 182 lines and 17506 words, and 4 pages

"My dear, this is wonderful," I said. "In another fifteen years we shall be nearly there. You might buy two more stars this afternoon and practise sewing them on, in order to be ready. You mustn't be taken by surprise when the actual moment comes."

We had a bottle of champagne for dinner that night, and Celia got the paper and read it aloud to my tunic. And just for practice she took the two stars off my other tunic and sewed them on this one--thus:

And we had a very happy evening.

"I suppose it will be a few days before it's officially announced," I said.

"Bother, I suppose it will," said Celia, and very reluctantly she took one star off each shoulder, leaving the matter--so:

And the months rolled on.

And I am still a Second Lieutenant ...

I do not complain; indeed I am even rather proud of it. If I am not gaining on my original one star, at least I am keeping pace with it. I might so easily have been a corporal by now.

Or this:

Or even this:

But perhaps that is unnecessary now. I think that by this time I have made it clear just how many stars I possess.

One on the right shoulder. So:

And one on the left shoulder. So:

That is all.

A.A.M.

THE FOUNTAIN.

Upon the terrace where I play A little fountain sings all day A tiny tune: It leaps and prances in the air-- I saw a little fairy there This afternoon.

The jumping fountain never stops-- He sat upon the highest drops And bobbed about. His legs were waving in the sun, He seemed to think it splendid fun, I heard him shout.

The sparrows watched him from a tree, A robin bustled up to see Along the path: I thought my wishing-bone would break, I wished so much that I could take A fairy bath.

R.F.

"LIBRARY NOTES.

Rumours that Mr. WELLS is a convert to the "nu speling" may now be safely contradicted.

THE MUD LARKS.

I am living at present in one of those villages in which the retreating Hun has left no stone unturned. With characteristic thoroughness he fired it first, then blew it up, and has been shelling it ever since. What with one thing and another, it is in an advanced state of dilapidation; in fact, if it were not that one has the map's word for it, and a notice perched on a heap of brick-dust saying that the Town Major may be found within, the casual wayfarer might imagine himself in the Sahara, Kalahari, or the south end of Kingsway.

At 2 A.M. three Canadian privates blundered against our village and tripped over it. They had lost their way, were mud from hoofs to horns, dead beat, soaked to the skin, chilled to the bone, fed up to the back teeth. They were not going any further, neither were they going to be deluged to death if there was any cover to be had anywhere. They nosed about, and soon discovered a few sheets of corrugated iron, bore them privily hence and weathered the night out under some logs further down the valley. My batman trod me underfoot at seven next morning, "Goin' to be blinkin' murder done in this camp presently, Sir," he announced cheerfully. "Three officers went to sleep in bivvies larst night, but somebody's souvenired 'em since an' they're all lyin' hout in the hopen now, Sir. Their blokes daresent wake 'em an' break the noos. All very 'asty-tempered gents, so I'm told. The Colonel is pertickler mustard. There'll be some fresh faces on the Roll of Honour when 'e comes to."

I turned out and took a look at the scene of impending tragedy. The three unconscious officers on three camp-beds were lying out in the middle of a sea of mud like three lone islets. Their shuddering subordinates were taking cover at long range, whispering among themselves and crouching in attitudes of dreadful expectancy like men awaiting the explosion of a mine or the cracking of Doom. As explosions of those dimensions are liable to be impartial in their attentions I took horse and rode afield. But according to my batman, who braved it out, the Lieutenant woke up first, exploded noisily and detonated the Field Officer who in turn detonated the Colonel. In the words of my batman--"They went orf one, two, three, Sir, for orl the world like a machine gun, a neighteen-pounder and an How-Pop-pop! Whizz-bang! Boom!--very 'eavy cas-u-alities, Sir." PATLANDER.

Who said Baalamb?

There is no saying how anybody's history will read if time-honoured sayings may be treated like this.

Extract from a letter recently received by a manufacturing firm:--

We sympathise too much with Labour to care to see it labouring under a delusion officer.

HEART-TO-HEART TALKS.

LINES TO A HUN AIRMAN,

WHO AROUSED THE DETACHMENT ON A CHILLY MORNING, AT 2.30 A.M.

Oh, come again, but at another time; Choose some more fitting moment to appear, For even in fair Gallia's sunny clime The dawns are chilly at this time of year.

I did not go to bed till one last night, I was on guard, and, pacing up and down, Gazed often on the sky where every light Flamed like a gem in Night's imperial crown;

And when the clamant rattle's hideous sound Roused me from sleep, in a far distant land My spirit moved and trod familiar ground, Where a Young Hopeful sat at my right hand.

There was a spotless cloth upon the board, Thin bread-and-butter was upon me pressed, And China tea in a frail cup was poured-- Then I rushed forth inadequately dressed.

Lo! the poor Sergeant in a shrunken shirt, His manly limbs exposed to morning's dew, His massive feet all paddling in the dirt-- Such sights should move the heart of even you.

The worthy Corporal, sage in looks and speeches, Holds up his trousers with a trembling hand; Lucky for him he slumbered in his breeches-- The most clothed man of all our shivering band.

The wretched gunners cluster on the gun, Clasping the clammy breech and slippery shells; If 'tis a joke they do not see the fun And damn you to the worst of DANTE'S hells.

And Sub-Lieutenant Blank, that martial man, Shows his pyjamas to a startled world, And shivers in the foremost of our van The while our H.E. shells are upwards hurled.

You vanish, not ten centimes worth the worse For all our noise, so far as we can tell; The blest "Stand easy" comes; with many a curse We hurry to the tents named after Bell.

In two brief hours we must arise and shine! O willow-waly! Would I were at home Where leisurely I breakfasted at nine And warm and fed went officeward to roam!

So come again, but at another time, Say after breakfast or some hour like that, Or I will strafe you with a viler rhyme-- I will, by Jove! or eat my shell-proof hat.

We congratulate him upon his discovery of this hitherto unknown tribe.

THE LITTLE MATCH-GIRL.

It was late on a bitterly cold showery evening of Autumn. A poor little girl was wandering in the cold wet streets. She wore a hat on her head and on her feet she wore boots. ANDERSEN sent her out without a hat and in boots five sizes too large for her. But as a member of the Children's Welfare League I do not consider that right. She carried a quantity of matches in her old apron. Nobody had bought any of her matches during the whole long day. And since the Summer-Time Act was still in force it was even longer than it would have been in ANDERSEN's time.

The streets through which she passed were deserted. No sounds, not even the reassuring shrieks of taxi-whistles, were to be heard, for it costs you forty shillings now to engage a taxi by whistle, and people simply can't afford it. Clearly she would do no business in the byways, so she struck into a main thoroughfare. At once she was besieged by buyers. They guessed she was the little match-girl because she struck a match from time to time just to show that they worked. Also, she liked to see the blaze. She would not have selected this branch of war-work had she not been naturally fond of matches.

They crowded round her, asking eagerly, "How much a box?" Now her mother had told her to sell them at a shilling a box. But the little girl had heard much talk of war-profits, and since nobody had given her any she thought she might as well earn some. So she asked five shillings a box. And since these were the last matches seen in England it was not long before she had sold all the ten boxes .

The little girl then went to the nearest post-office and purchased two pounds' worth of War Loan. The ten shillings which remained she took home to her mother, and since the good woman did not understand the principles of profiteering she was well pleased.

But alas for the little girl! one of her customers, doubting the honesty of her intentions, had informed the policeman. She was subsequently taken into custody, and the magistrate is now faced with the problem as to whether she is a good little girl in that she put money into War Loan, or a bad little girl in that she followed the example of the profiteers.

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