Punch, April 4th, 1917.

Questo sito usa dei cookie per migliorare la vostra esperienza di navigazione. Continuando la navigazione accettate l'uso dei cookie (Altre informazioni)


Home Page  - Autori - Audioletture a cura di Valerio Di Stefano - Concordanze   DVD-ROM
 Aree linguistiche: Italiano   English            
Appunti di informatica libera   Punch, or the London Charivari - Holy Bible
Guide Linux   GNUtemberg    Liber Liber - Wikipedia for Schools   E-mail   Chi sono


The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 152,
April 4, 1917, by Various

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 152, April 4, 1917

Author: Various

Release Date: February 8, 2005 [EBook #14974]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1


Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Keith Edkins and the PG Online
Distributed Proofreading Team.


Vol. 152.

April 4th, 1917.

[pg 217]


The KAISER has conferred upon the Turkish GRAND VIZIER the Order of the Black Eagle. The GRAND VIZIER has had persistent bad luck.

"A few weeks ago," says Mr. ROBERT BLATCHFORD, I asked, "What manner of man is the Tsar? And now he has abdicated." We understand that the EX-TSAR absolves Mr. BLATCHFORD from all blame.

The Amsterdam rumour to the effect that eighty thousand German soldiers had surrendered was followed the next day by the report that it was really ninety thousand. It appears that a recount was demanded.

The Evening News, ever ready to assist with economical hints, now throws out suggestions for renovating last year's suit. No mention is made, however, of the fact that people with fur coats can now obtain quite cheap butterfly-nets for the moth-chasing season.

In the Reichstag a member of the Socialist Minority Party has denounced the KAISER as the originator of the War. The denunciation made little impression on the House, as it was generally felt that he must have been listening to some idle street-corner gossip.

A cat's-meat-man informed the Southwark Tribunal at a recent sitting that he served over four hundred families a day. The unwisdom of permitting cats to have families in war-time has been made the subject of adverse comment.

"I swear by Almighty God that I will speak the truth, no nonsense, and won't be foolish," was the form of oath taken by a witness at a recent case in the Bloomsbury County Court. It was explained to him that this was only suitable for persons taking office under the Crown.

It was urged on behalf of a man at the Harrow Tribunal that there would be no boots in the Army to fit him. If a small enough pair can be found for him it is understood that he will join the police.

We fear an injustice has been done to the large number of Mexicans who have lately entered the United States. It was at first suggested that they were of pro-German sympathies, but it now appears that they were only fugitives who had fled from the elections in Mexico.



A man at Bristol charged as an absentee said that he had been so busy wilting poetry that he had forgotten all about military matters. His very emphatic assurance that he will now push on with the War has afforded the liveliest satisfaction to the authorities concerned.


The Proprietors of Punch are glad to announce that they find themselves in a position to revert, for the time being at any rate, to the type and size of Punch as they were before the recent changes.

"Owing to restrictions on the output of beer," says a contemporary, "the passing of the village inn is merely a question of time." Even before the War it often took hours and hours.

It is announced that a wealthy American lady with Socialistic leanings will, at the end of the War, marry a well-known conscientious objector at present undergoing a term of imprisonment. The American craze for curio-hunting has not abated one bit.

A woman in North London who two years ago offered her services to the Government in any capacity has just been informed that her offer is noted. There is good reason to believe that she will he among the first women called upon for service in our next war.

Because a man had jilted her fifteen years ago, a Spanish woman shot him while he was being married to another woman. It is a remarkable thing, but rarely does a marriage ceremony go off in Spain without some little hitch or other.

Proper mastication of food is necessary in these times, and we are not surprised to hear that one large dental firm are advertising double sets of teeth with a two-speed gear attachment.

According to The Pall Mall Gazette, Mr. LLOYD GEORGE'S double was seen at Cardiff the other day. The suggestion that there are two Lloyd Georges in the world has caused consternation among the German Headquarters Staff.

The bones of a woolly rhinoceros have been dug up twenty-three feet below the surface at High Wycombe, and very strong expressions have been used in the locality concerning this gross example of food-hoarding.

Complaint has been made by a brass finisher at Oldham that his fellow-workmen will not speak to him because he receives less wages than they do. To end an awkward situation it is hoped that the good fellow may eventually consent to accept a weekly wage on the higher scale.

Punch's Roll of Honour.

WE record with deep regret the death from pneumonia of Captain HARRY NEVILLE GITTINS, R.G.A., on Active Service. He was a member of the Territorials before the outbreak of war, and, after serving two years at home, went out to France in August of last year. His light-hearted contributions to Punch will be greatly missed.

[pg 218]



When I've surveyed with half-shut eyes,

Over the winking Champagne wine,

What I shall do when Father dies

And hands me down his right divine,

Often I've said that, when in God's

Good time he goes, I mean to show 'em

How scorpions sting in place of rods,

Taking my cue from REHOBOAM.

But now with Liberty on the loose,

And All the Russias capped in red,

And Demos hustling like the deuce,

And Tsardom's day as good as dead—

When on the Dynasty they dance

And with the Imperial Orb play hockey,

I feel that LITTLE WILLIE'S chance

Looks, at the moment, rather rocky.

Not that the Teuton's stolid wits

Are built to plan so rude a plot;

Somehow I cannot picture Fritz

Careering as a sansculotte;

Schooled to obedience, hand and heart,

I can imagine nothing odder

Than such behaviour on the part

Of inoffensive cannon fodder.

And yet one never really knows.

You cannot feed his massive trunk

On fairy tales of beaten foes

Or HINDENBURG'S "victorious" bunk;

And if his rations run too short

Through this accursed British blockade

Even the worm may turn and sport

A revolutionary cockade.

Well, at the worst, I have my loot;

And if, in search of healthier air,

We Hohenzollerns do a scoot,

There's wine and women everywhere;

And, for myself, I frankly own

A taste for privacy; I should rather

Not face the high light on a throne—

But O my poor, my poor old Father!


[pg 219]



SECOND ASS. "INCREDIBLE!"           [Goes off and repeats it.]


THE French are a great people; the more I see of them the more I admire them, and I have been seeing a lot of them lately.

I seem to have spent the last week eating six-course dinners in cellars with grizzled sky-blue colonels, endeavouring to reply to their charming compliments in a mixture of Gaelic and CORNELIUS NEPOS. I myself had no intention of babbling these jargons; it is the fault of my tongue, which takes charge on these occasions, and seems to be under the impression that, when it is talking to a foreigner, any foreign language will do.

Atkins, I notice, also suffers from a form of the same delusion. When talking to a Frenchman, he employs a mangled cross between West Coast and China pidgin, and by placing a long E at the end of every word imagines he is making himself completely clear to the suffering Gaul. And the suffering Gaul listens to it all with incredible patience and courtesy, and, what is more, somehow or other disentangles a meaning, thereby proving himself the most intelligent creature on earth.

We have always prided ourselves that the teaching of modern languages in our island seminaries is unique; but such is not the case. Here and there in France, apparently, they teach English on the same lines. I discovered this, the other day, when we called on a French battery to have the local tactical situation explained to us. I was pushed forward as the star linguist of our party; the French produced a smiling Captain as theirs. The non-combatants of both sides then sat back and waited for their champions to begin. I felt a trifle nervous myself, and the Frenchman didn't seem too happy. We filled in a few minutes bowing, saluting, kissing and shaking hands, and then let Babel loose, I in my fourth-form French, and he, to my amazement, in equally elementary English. The affair looked hopeless from the start; if either of us would have consented to talk in his own language, the other might have understood him, but neither of us could, before that audience, with our reputations at stake.

Towards lunch-time things grew really desperate; we had got as far as "the pen of my female cousin," but the local tactical situation remained as foggy as ever, our backers were showing signs of impatience, and we were both lathering freely. Then by some happy chance we discovered we had both been in Africa, fell crowing into each other's arms, and the local tactical situation was cleared "one time" in flowing Swahili. Our respective reputations as linguists are now beyond doubt.

We became fast friends, this Captain and I. He bore me off to his cellar, stood me the usual six-course feed (with wines), and after it was over asked how I would like to while away the afternoon. I left it in his hands. "Eh bien, let us play on the Bosch a little," he suggested. It sounded as pleasant a light after-dinner amusement as any, so I bowed and we sallied forth.

He led me to his observation post, spoke down a telephone, and about twenty yards of Hun parapet were not. "That will spoil his siesta," said my Captain. "By the way, his Headquarters is behind that ruined farm,"

"Which?" I inquired; there were several farms about, none of them in any great state of repair.

"I will show you—watch," he replied, talked into the 'phone again, and far away a cloud, a cloud of brick dust, smoked aloft. "Voilà!"

He thereupon pointed out all the objects of local interest in the same fashion.

"We will now give him fifty rounds for luck, and then we will return to my cellar for a cup of coffee," said he, and a further twenty yards of Hun parapet were removed.

Suddenly there came an answering salvo from Hunland, and a flock of shells whizzed over our heads.

"Tiens!" my Captain exclaimed. "He has lost his little temper, has he? Naughty, naughty! I must give him a slap. A hundred rounds!" he shouted into the 'phone, and the German lines spouted like a school of whales blowing.

Again the Bosch slammed across a heavy reply. My Captain leapt to his 'phone. "He would answer me back, would he? The impudence! Give him a thousand rounds, my children!"

Then for the next hour or so the sky was filled with a screaming tornado of shells, rushing, bumping, and bursting, and the Bosch lines sagged, bulged, quivered, slopped over, and were spattered against the blue in small smithereens.

"And now let us see what he says to that," said my Captain pleasantly. We waited, we watched, we listened; but there came no reply (possibly because there was no one left to make one), and my Captain turned to me, shoulders shrugged, palms outspread, a grimace of apologetic disgust on his mobile face—like a circus-master explaining that his clown has got the measles: "Nottin, see you? Pas d'esprit, l'animal!"

[pg 220]

Certainly Hans the Hun does not seem to be enjoying the same high spirits he did of yore. Possibly he is beginning to regret the day he left the old beer garden, his ample Gretchen, and the fatty foods his figure demands. The story of Patrick and Goldilocks would tend to prove as much.

The other day Patrick was engaged in one of those little "gains" which straighten out the unsightly kinks in the "line" and give the War-correspondents a chance to get their names in print.

Patrick and his friends attacked in a snowstorm, dropped into a German post, gave the occupants every assistance in evacuating, and prepared to make themselves at home. While they were clearing up the mess, they found they had taken a prisoner, a blond Bavarian hero who had found it impossible to leave with his friends on account of half-a-ton of sandbags on his chest. They excavated him, told him if he was a good boy they'd give him a ticket to Donington Hall at nightfall, christened him Goldilocks for the time being, and threw him some rations, among which was a tin of butter.

He listened to all they had to say in a dazed sulky fashion, but at the sight of the tin of butter he gurgled drunkenly and seemed to go light-headed. He spent a perfect day revelling in the joys of anticipation, crooning over that butter, cuddling it, hiding it in one pocket after the other. Towards dusk down came the snow again, and under cover thereof the Bosch counter-attacked.

Patrick says he suddenly heard the bull voice of a Hun officer hic-coughing gutturals, and they were on him. He had no time to send up an S.O.S. rocket, and his machine-gun jammed. In a minute they were all mixed up, at it tooth and claw as merry as a Galway election, the big Bosch officer, throwing off a hymn of hate, the life and soul of the party. He came for Patrick with an automatic, and Patrick thought all was up; and so it would have been but for Goldilocks, who materialized suddenly out of nowhere, deftly tripped up his officer from behind, and, dancing on his stomach with inspired hooves, trod him out of sight.

Their moving spirit being wiped out, the Huns lost whatever heart they had had, and went through their "Kamerad" exercise without further ado.

When the excitement was over Patrick sought out Goldilocks, and, shaking him warmly by the hand, thanked him for suppressing the officer and saving the situation.

"Situation be damned" (or words to that effect), Goldilocks retorted. "He would have pinched my butter!"



Employer (imagining him to mean a rise in salary). "ANOTHER FIVE POUNDS A WEEK! GOOD LORD!!"



(Notes from a Society newspaper of the coming vegetable epoch.)


We regret to learn that Lady Diana Dashweed has returned from Nice suffering from nervous shock. During a battle of vegetables at the recent carnival Lady Diana, while in the act of aiming a tomato at a well-known peer, was struck on the head by a fourteen-pound marrow hurled by some unknown admirer. There is unfortunately a growing tendency at these festivities to use missiles over the regulation weight.

A daring innovation was made by last Wednesday's bride. One has become so accustomed to the orthodox cauliflower bouquet at weddings that it came almost as a shock to see her holding a huge bunch of rich crimson beetroots, tied with old-gold streamers. The effect however was altogether delightful.

The decorations for a particularly smart "pink-and-white" dinner at one of our smartest restaurants last evening were charmingly carried out in spring rhubarb and Spanish onions, the table being softly illuminated by tinted electric lights concealed in hollow turnips, fashioned to represent the heads of famous statesmen.


"Sick at heart, Adela tottered across the room and, opening her bureau, drew from its secret hiding-place an old letter. As she tremblingly removed it from the envelope a few faded leaves fluttered down to the floor. It was the brussels-sprout he had given her on the night they parted."

An Inducement.

"WANTED, Nurse, £30, for three children, 13, 7, and 3 years: nurseryman kept."—Evesham Journal.

To help, we suppose, in making up the beds.

"The stream proved treacherous in the extreme, being a succession of rapids and whirlpools. Often their magazine rifles and automatic revolvers were all that stood between them and death."—Observer.

We always use a Winchester repeater for shooting rapids.

"Merely as photographs these postcards are remarkable. As ikons for men to vow by; as lessons for women to show their children in days to come—when the Hun octopus roots himself again in the comity of civilised nations, lying in wait at our doorways, stretching out his antennæ, like those foul things that lurk at sea-cavern mouths—these eight pictures have historical value."—Daily Mail.

Biologists too will be glad to have this description of the habits and characteristics of that fearsome beast the Octopus Germanicus.

[pg 221]


(Items gathered from the Dally Press of April 1st, 1927).

LORD KENNEDY-JONES, Grand Editor to the Nation, announced yesterday that he proposed to take no notice of the protest against the use of the words "voiced," "glimpsed" and "featured" in official documents.

The Earl of Mount-Carmel has left London on a protracted tour in Pulpesia. He requests that no mention shall be made of his movements during his absence in any newspapers. A special correspondent of Chimes will, we understand, accompany his lordship.

Mr. WINSTON CHURCHILL gave further evidence yesterday before the Dardanelles Commission.

Lord BILLING left England yesterday for New York in the Transatlantic air-liner P.B.

"Polymachus," the famous descriptive journalist, yesterday published his five-thousandth daily article on the policies, principles and opinions of the house of Pelfwidge. An ox was roasted whole on the roof garden of the famous emporium in honour of the event.

Mr. GINNELL created a slight sensation in the House of Commons yesterday by attempting to accompany on the Irish harp his speech in support of the Atlantic Tunnel Bill.

The SPEAKER of the House of Commons has ruled a Member out of order for making a Latin quotation, the first heard at Westminster for nine years.

The Right Hon. GILBERT CHESTERTON is recovering from a mild attack of mumps. During the progress of the complaint his portrait was painted by Sir AUGUSTUS JOHN.

The Rev. H. G. WELLS preached yesterday evening at the City Temple.

Viscount GREBA (Sir HALL CAINE) takes his seat in the House of Lords to-day, and is expected to make an important pronouncement on Compulsory Manx at the Universities.

Mr. WINSTON CHURCHILL'S portrait of Lord FISHER has been accepted at Madame TUSSAUD'S Exhibition.


There was an old woman who lived in a shoe,

She had so many children she didn't know what to do;

She gave them some broth without any bread,

So as not to exceed her allowance per head.

Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard

To get her poor dog a bone;

But when she got there the cupboard was bare,

And so the poor dog had none.

She went to the kitchen and scolded the slavey,

Who answered, "All bones must be boiled down for gravy."

"Mary, Mary, quite contrairy, how does your garden grow?"

"Early greens and haricot beans and cauliflowers all in a row."

When good KING ARTHUR ruled this land he was a goodly king,

He stored ten sacks of barleymeal to last him through the Spring;

The Food-Controller heard thereof, and said, "This wicked hoarding

Must not go on—and if it does I'll have to act according."

[pg 222]




The frog challenged the nightingale to a singing contest. "Of course for gurgling and untutored warbling I know he has it," he said to his friend the toad, "but in technique I shall beat him hollow."

So the jury was chosen. The nightingale proposed the lark, the thrush, the blackbird and the bullfinch as experts in singing, and the frog proposed the starling, the linnet, the chaffinch and the reed-warbler.

The nightingale was overcome with emotion at the generosity of the frog, and insisted on adding the crow and the toad as experts in croaking.

The nightingale sang first, whilst his trade rivals sat and chattered. They chattered so loud that the nightingale stopped singing in a huff.

"You are hardly at your best, you know, old thing," said the linnet sympathetically.

"You will find these throat lozenges excellent for hoarseness," said the blackbird.

"His upper register is weak—abominably weak," said the starling to the lark.

"Perhaps if his voice were trained," suggested the lark.

Meanwhile the frog croaked away lustily, but no one listened to him. "The jury must vote by ballot," he said as he finished the last croak.

"Of course we must," twittered the jury.

The frog won by eight votes to two.

"I voted for the nightingale," whispered the crow to the toad.

"So did I," whispered the toad.


For many reasons the passing of the poster is to be welcomed. For one thing, it robbed the papers themselves of that element of surprise which is one of life's few spices; for another, it added to life's many complexities by forcing the reader into a hunt through the columns which often ended in disappointment: in other words the poster's promise was not seldom greater than the paper's performance. Then, again, it was often offensive, as when it called for the impeachment of an effete "old gang," many of whose members had joined the perfect new; or redundant, as when it demanded twenty ropes where one would have sufficed.

But, even although the streets may be said to have been sweetened by the absence of posters, days will come, it must be remembered, when we shall badly miss them. It goes painfully to one's heart to think that the embargo, if it is ever lifted, will not be lifted in time for most of the events which we all most desire, events that clamour to be recorded in the large black type that for so many years Londoners have associated with fatefulness. Such as ("reading from left to right"):—

And Finally—

It will be hard to lose these.


Yes, war is horrible and hideous—

It jars upon my sense fastidious,

My "noble instincts," to decline

To actions that are not divine.

So, when I mutilate your pictures,

So far from meriting your strictures,

Compassion rather is my due

For doing what I hate to do.

It grieves my super-saintly soul

Even to smash a china bowl;

To carry off expensive clocks

My tender conscience sears and shocks;

I really don't enjoy at all

Hacking to bits a panelled hall,

Rare books with priceless bindings burning,

Or boudoirs into cesspools turning.

My heart invariably bleeds

When I'm engaged upon these deeds,

And teardrops of the largest size

Fall from my heav'n-aspiring eyes.

But, though my sorrow is unfeigned,

Still discipline must be maintained;

And, when the High Command says, "Smash,

Bedaub with filth, loot, hack and slash,"

I do it (much against the grain)

Because, though gentle and humane,

When dirty work is to be done

I always am a docile Hun.

"It is proposed to collect from Nottinghamshire householders bones and fat for the extraction of glycerine."—Christian World.

Poor "lambs"!

"Lady Companion Wanted, immediately, by young married woman; servant kept, and there are no children: applicant must be well educated, well read, well-bred, and of impeachable character."—Provincial Paper.

So as to give her employer something to talk about?

"'Baghdad' written large on the wall of the terminus in English and Arabic reminded them that they had arrived. In the booking office, now deserted, there had been a rush for tickets to Constantinople. The last train had gone out at 2 a.m. A supper officer discovered the way-bill."—Daily Paper.

A poor substitute if he was looking for the bill-of-fare.

From an Egyptian picture-palace programme:—

"Sensationing.           Dramatic.


Great drama, in 3 parts, of a poignancy interest,

assisting with anguish at the terrible

peripeties of a Young Girl, falling in hand, of

Bohemian bandits.

Pictures of this film are celicious, being taken

at fir trees and mountan's of the Alpes.—

Great success.

Comic.           Silly laughter."

The translator of the French original was probably justified in his rendering of "fou rire."

[pg 223]


[pg 224]


He had done with fleets and squadrons, with the restless roaming seas,

He had found the quiet haven he desired,

And he lay there to his moorings with the dignity and ease

Most becoming to Rear-Admirals (retired);

He was bred on "Spit and Polish"—he was reared to "Stick and String"—

All the things the ultra-moderns never name;

But a storm blew up to seaward, and it meant the Real Thing,

And he had to slip his cable when it came.

So he hied him up to London for to hang about Whitehall,

And he sat upon the steps there soon and late,

He importuned night and morning, he bombarded great and small,

From messengers to Ministers of State;

He was like a guilty conscience, he was like a ghost unlaid,

He was like a debt of which you can't get rid,

Till the Powers that Be, despairing, in a fit of temper said,

"For the Lord's sake give him something"—and they did.

They commissioned him a trawler with a high and raking bow,

Black and workmanlike as any pirate craft,

With a crew of steady seamen very handy in a row,

And a brace of little barkers fore and aft;

And he blessed the Lord his Maker when he faced the North Sea sprays

And exceedingly extolled his lucky star

That had given his youth renewal in the evening of his days

(With the rank of Captain Dugout, R.N.R.).

He is jolly as a sandboy, he is happier than a king,

And his trawler is the darling of his heart

(With her cuddy like a cupboard where a kitten couldn't swing,

And a smell of fish that simply won't depart);

He has found upon occasion sundry targets for his guns;

He could tell you tales of mine and submarine;

Oh, the holes he's in and out of and the glorious risks he runs

Turn his son—who's in a Super-Dreadnought—green.

He is fit as any fiddle; he is hearty, hale and tanned;

He is proof against the coldest gales that blow;

He has never felt so lively since he got his first command

(Which is rather more than forty years ago);

And of all the joyful picnics of his wild and wandering youth—

Little dust-ups from Taku to Zanzibar—

There was none to match the picnic, he declares in sober sooth,

That he has as Captain Dugout, R.N.R.



Bosch (downed after long Homeric combat). "KAMERAD!"


"Would the Lady who took the Wrong Patent Leather Shoe (right) from —— on 7th instant return same?"—Provincial Press.

And then she can recover the right shoe which was left.

"Bethnal Green Military Hospital, formerly an infirmary, names its wards after British virtues, thus:—Courage, Truth, Fortitude, Loyalty, Justice, Honour, Faith, Hope, Charity, Prudence, Mercy, Grace, Candour, Innocence, and Patience."—Evening Standard.

We note with regret the omission of that eminently British virtue, Humility.

[pg 225]



[pg 226]


Monday, March 26th.—Major PRETYMAN NEWMAN has a bright sense of humour much appreciated by his fellow-countrymen from Ireland. His latest notion is that journals "of a comic and serio-comic nature" should be deprived of their stocks of paper in order that catalogues and circulars should continue to appear. Mr. GEORGE ROBERTS expressed his regret at being unable to discriminate between different classes of publications; but I understand that several Members have offered to satisfy Major NEWMAN's taste for light literature by lending him their old Stores catalogues.

Housewives who have been economising in their meagre supply of sugar in order to have a stock for jam-making have been alarmed by a rumour that they would be charged with food-hoarding and made to disgorge their savings. There is not a word of truth in it, and they may rest assured, on Capt. BATHURST'S authority, that our non-party Government entirely approves this form of Conservatism.


Misled by Mr. BRACE's appearance—I have before now noted his likeness to an amiable cat—Mr. SNOWDEN pressed his advocacy of a certain conscientious objector called PETT to such lengths as to discover that even this kind of cat has claws. "These conscientious objectors," said Mr. BRACE at last, "are not the angels he thinks they are, and it is only with the utmost difficulty that a large number of them will do anything like reasonable work." Thus a PETT illusion has been shattered. Mr. SNOWDEN, however, has plenty more.

Tuesday, March 27th.—If British artisans, as at Barrow-in-Furness, prefer to strike for Germany, it seems hardly reasonable to expect German prisoners to work for England. The nature of the "disciplinary measures" which caused the Germans promptly to return to work on normal conditions was not disclosed, but it seems a pity that they are not tried in the other case.

"We are getting on," as Sir HENRY CAMPBELL-BANNERMAN said on a famous occasion. Formerly it was considered the height of Parliamentary impropriety to say in so many words that an Hon. Member was not telling the truth; and all sorts of more or less transparent subterfuges, of which Mr. CHURCHILL's "terminological inexactitude" is the best remembered, were employed to evade this breach of good manners. But the present House is thicker-skinned than its predecessors, and heard without a tremor the following conversation between the MINISTER OF PENSIONS and Mr. HOGGE:—Mr. Barnes: "I never said there was a scale." Mr. Hogge: "Yes, you did." Mr. Barnes: "No, I didn't."

A little later on, Mr. SWIFT MACNEILL always a stickler for constitutional precedent, attacked the Government for introducing important Bills—including one for extending once more the life of this immortal Parliament—without vouchsafing any explanation of them. He appealed to the SPEAKER to condemn this procedure as being contrary to the spirit of the standing order. Mr. LOWTHER explained that it was his business to carry out the rules of the House, not to express opinions about the use that was made of them. But he ventured to remind the Hon. Member that under this rule a Home Rule Bill, a Welsh Disestablishment Bill and a Plural Voting Bill had all been introduced on a single day. And it is not on record that on that occasion Mr. MACNEILL entered any protest.

Wednesday, March 28th—Rumours that Mr. ASQUITH was about to make a public recantation of his hostility to Women's Suffrage caused a large attendance of Members, Peers and the general public. The interval of waiting was beguiled by, among others, Mr. PEMBERTON BILLING, who, having been told by Mr. MACPHERSON that the number of accidents during the training of pilots during the last half-year of 1916 was 1.53 per cent., proceeded to inquire, "What is the percentage based on? Is it percentage per hundred?" Mr. BILLING may be comforted by the recollection that a greater than he, Lord RANDOLPH CHURCHILL, confessed that he "never could understand what those d—d dots meant."

The Editor of The Glasgow High School Magazine must be a proud man this day, for he has been mentioned in Parliament. It seems that he has been refused permission to post his periodical to subscribers in neutral countries, and Mr. MACPHERSON explained that this was in pursuance of a general rule, since "school magazines contain much information useful to the enemy." It is pleasant to picture the German General Staff laboriously ploughing through reports of football-matches, juvenile poems and letters to the Editor complaining of the rise in prices at the tuck-shop, in order to discover that Second-Lieutenant Blank, of the Umptieth Battery, R.F.A., is stationed in Mesopotamia, and therefrom to deduce the present distribution of the British Army.

The SPEAKER occupied the Chair during the discussion of the recommendations of his Conference on Electoral Reform, and heard nothing but good of himself. It was, indeed, a notable achievement to have induced so heterogeneous a collection of Members to present a practically unanimous report on a bundle of problems acutely controversial.

Only on one point did the Conference fail to agree, and that was in regard to Women's Suffrage. But, after Mr. ASQUITH'S handsome admission that, by their splendid services in the War, women had worked out their own electoral salvation, even that topic seemed to have lost most of its provocative quality; and there is a general desire to forget what the late PRIME MINISTER described as a detestable campaign and bury the hatchet and all the other weapons employed in it.



Foreign Office.

Do you recall the distraught lady in Ruddigore, who was always charmed into silence by the mystic word "Basingstoke"? More than once during Mr. CLAVELL SALTER'S over-elaborated speech I hoped that he [pg 227] would remember his constituency and take the hint. But he went on and on, occasionally dropping into a vein of sentiment and working it so hard that I quite expected to hear him say, "Gentlemen of the Jury" instead of "Mr. Speaker." When it came to the division, however, he only carried some three-score stalwarts into the Lobby, and the House decided by a majority of 279 to support the Government's intention to give immediate effect to the recommendations of the Conference.

Thursday, March 29th.—Employers in want of agricultural labourers should apply to Lord NEWTON, who has a large selection of interned Austrians, Hungarians and Turks, and undertakes to supply an alien "almost by return of post." The Turk is specially recommended, as, even if he fails to give complete satisfaction, the farmer can relieve the monotony of an arduous existence by "sitting on the Ottoman."

Brave man as he is, the FOOD CONTROLLER is not prepared to prohibit entirely the manufacture of cakes and confectionery. But he is preparing to do something hardly less daring, namely, to standardize the types that may be sold.

An old spelling-book used to tell us that "It is agreeable to watch the unparalleled embarrassment of a harassed pedlar when gauging the symmetry of a peeled pear." Lord DEVONPORT, occupied in deciding on the exact architecture and decoration of the Bath bun (official sealed pattern), would make a companion picture.

The unwillingness of some young Scottish Members to volunteer for National Service is now explained. It seems that by an unpardonable oversight the appeals of the DIRECTOR-GENERAL, as published in the Scottish newspapers, were addressed "to the men of England." The wording has now been altered—not too late, I trust, for the country to obtain the valuable assistance of Messrs. PRINGLE and HOGGE.


The New-comer. "MY VILLAGE, I THINK?"


The Food-Shortage.

"Wanted, Second-hand Cavity Pan, with agitators complete, for edible purposes."—Manchester Guardian.

"No potatoes are to be served in future at any meal at the Portland Club, St. James's Square."—Westminster Gazette.

Hence the new name for this club—the Devonportland.

"We shall have to work more harder."—Daily Paper.

And some of us will have to write more better English.




Grey walls that lichen stains,

That take the sun and the rains,

Old, stately and wise;

Clipt yews, old lawns flag-bordered,

In ancient ways yet ordered;

South walks where the loud bee plies

Daylong till Summer flies;—

Here grows Lavender, here breathes England.

Gay cottage gardens, glad,

Comely, unkempt and mad,

Jumbled, jolly and quaint;

Nooks where some old man dozes;

Currants and beans and roses

Mingling without restraint;

A wicket that long lacks paint;—

Here grows Lavender, here breathes England.

Sprawling for elbow-room,

Spearing straight spikes of bloom,

Clean, wayward and tough;

Sweet and tall and slender,

True, enduring and tender,

Buoyant and bold and bluff,

Simplest, sanest of stuff;—

Thus grows Lavender, thence breathes England.

[pg 228]




In view of the restriction of the paper supply it has been suggested that advertisers should unite in cultivating the available space on a co-operative intensive system.

For example, the various proprietors of three popular brands of cigarettes, instead of having a page advertisement each, might combine in one single page, like this:—


You cannot consider yourself a connoisseur of
cigarettes unless you are able to distinguish at
one and the same time the individually exquisite
flavours of



These cigarettes are smoked in our patent
"Trident" cigarette-holders.

Of all Tobacconists.

You see? Not only does each manufacturer still obtain the same sale for his cigarettes, but he actually gains a third share in the profits of a new accessory—the triple cigarette-holder.

Of course ingenuity of this sort is not required when the advertisers are not in any sense rivals. All that is then necessary is what we may call the economic common factor of appeal. For instance:—

The War Office
The Cricklewood
As soon as we are through with our urgent
contracts we shall be happy to serve you.

Finally, we note that there are innumerable classifications of complementary trades which are, of course, eminently suited to co-operative advertising. We append two samples of what may be done in this direction.


If you want to GET an Engagement as Mistress
Solicit an interview at the

If you want to KEEP an Engagement as Mistress
Have the whole of your Servants' Suite


As Omar Khayyam said:—

"A Loaf of Bread—"

Contains the whole of the husk.

"A Flask of Wine—"

A Wise Host
on his

"A Book of Verse"—


"No submarines were sighted, but the vessel's commander steered a tortoise course through the danger zone."—Newfoundland Paper.

Far, far better than turning turtle.

"Metra laughed and deposited herself bewitchingly among the cushions on the davenport."—London Magazine.

Personally, we prefer a roll on the top of an American desk.

"By Regulation 35B of the Defence of the Realm Regulations, it is an offence for any person having found any bomb, or projectile, or any fragment thereof, or any document, map, &c., which may have been discharged, dropped, &c., from any hostile aircraft, to forthwith communicate the fact to a Military Post or to a Police Constable in the neighbourhood."—Scotsman.

Why this mistrust of Scottish policemen?

[pg 229]


Peace, I remember, had her alimentary perplexities not much less renowned than war. At any rate I can think of two.

The first was some years ago, in Yorkshire, on one of those sultry and stifling days of August which in winter, or even in such a March as we have been suffering, one can view as something more desirable than rubies, but which in actual fact are depressing, enervating, and the mother of moodiness and fatigue. We had left Chop Yat early in the morning after a night of excessive heat in beds of excessive featheriness and were walking towards Helmsley by way of Rievaulx, all unconcerned as to lunch by the way, because the ordnance map marked with such cordial legibility an inn on the road at a reasonable distance. Moreover, was not Yorkshire made up of hospitable ridings, and had we not, on the previous day, found lunch in this cottage and tea in that, with no trouble at all, to say nothing of the terrific spread confronting us at Chop Yat? Why then carry anything?

But we soon began to regret the absence of sustenance, for this kind of weather makes for extreme lassitude shot through with rattiness, and under its influence nourishment dies in one with painful celerity.

The blessed word "inn" was however on the ordnance map, and since it was the one-inch scale that cannot lie we braced ourselves, mended and remended our tempers, and plodded on. The dales no doubt are gorgeous places, but under this grey humid sky anyone who wanted it could have had my share of Billsdale (as I believe it was). Scenery had become an outrage. There was no joy, no beauty; nothing was worth living for but that inn. As we laboured forward we cheered each other by word-pictures of its parlour, its larder and its cellar. A pork-pie ("porch-peen" I fancy the Yorkshiremen call it) would probably be there. Eggs, of course. A ham, surely. Bacon, no doubt. Yellow butter, crusty new bread, and beer. Indeed, let the rest go, so long as there was beer. But beer, of course, was beyond any question; an inn without beer was unthinkable.

Thus the miles wore away until, footsore, sticky and faint, we came upon the hostelry itself—only to find, instead of any grateful sign and the promise of delight, the frigid words, "Friends' Meeting House," painted on the board....

That was one experience, over which a veil may well be drawn. The other was not so long ago, in Sussex, a little before the War. This time we had not walked, but had done that much more hungrifying thing—we had been for hours in a motor-car, exceedingly engaged on the task of looking at houses to let. At last, utterly worn out, in the way that motoring can wear out body, soul and nerves, and filled with a ravening desire to tear meat limb from limb, we came to an inn of which our host had the highest opinion—so high, indeed, that, empty though we were, he had forced the car at full-speed past at least half-a-dozen admirable but less pretentious houses, where I, in my small way, had more than once been nourished and sustained.

When, however, at last we did arrive at his desired haven, late in the afternoon, when dusk was beginning to fall and blur with her gentle hand the sharp lines of hill and tree, we acknowledged his wisdom, for in the window beside the door, where we creakingly but joyfully alighted, were visible, although no longer distinctly, a vast ham as yet uncut and two richly-browned cold fowls. "There," said he, with a pardonable triumph, "didn't I tell you?" and so, our lips trembling with the anticipation of nutriment, we entered, flung off our wraps, and prepared, on the evidence, for such bliss as earth too rarely affords. But alas for hopes raised only to be shattered, for the host had nothing to offer us but bread and cheese. The ham and chickens were of papier-mâché.


Sentry. '"OO GOES THERE?"


"HOTEL. —— Sitting Waiter required, good experience."—Bournemouth Daily Echo.

The inclusion of the functions of a waiter among "sedentary occupations" explains a good deal.

[pg 230]

Ex-Proprietor of a Cokernut Stall (who has just had his helmet shot off). "WHAT'LL YE 'AVE, FRITZ—NUTS OR A SEEGAR?"


I.—From Professor Tripewell.

MY LORD,—You will, no doubt, forgive me for drawing your attention to the fact that the rationing system, to which you have lent the credit of your name, will bring us to the end of our food supplies in something considerably less than a month from now. I am far from wishing to be an alarmist, but it is as well that we should face the facts, especially when they are supported by statistics so irrefutable as those which I am willing to produce to you at any moment on receiving your request to do so.

Fortunately it is not yet too late to apply a simple and adequate remedy to this condition of affairs. All you have to do is to issue and enforce an Order in the following terms:—

(1) Every occasion on which food, no matter how small the amount, is eaten shall count as a meal.

(2) Not more than two meals shall be eaten by any person, of whatever size, age or sex, in a day of twenty-four hours.

(3) No meal shall last more than ten minutes.

(4) The mastication of every mouthful shall last not less than thirty seconds.

(5) A mouthful for the purpose of this Order shall not consist of more food than can be conveyed to the mouth in an ordinary teaspoon.

I venture to think that this order, if issued at once and drastically applied, will meet every difficulty, and that we shall hear no more of a shortage.

II.—From Joshua Stodmarsh.

DEAR OLD SPORT,—It won't do—really it won't. I've been doing my best to give your plan of food rations a fair run, and every week I've found myself on the wrong side of the fence. I have never considered myself a large or reckless eater, though I own to having had a liking for a good breakfast (fish, kidneys and eggs, with muffin or buttered toast and marmalade) as a start for the day. Then came luncheon—steak or chop or Irish stew, with a roly-poly pudding to follow, and a top-up of bread-and-butter and cheese. Tea, of course, at five o'clock, with more buttered toast, and then home to a good solid dinner of soup, fish and entrée and joint and some sort of sweet. This just left room for an occasional supper—say three times a week. It doesn't sound out of the way, now does it? And you must remember that I'm not one of your thin, dwarfish, anæmic blokes that you could feed out of a packet of bird-seed. No, I stand six foot, and I don't weigh an ounce under seventeen stone. Dear old boy, you can't have the heart to ask me to do it.

III.—From Miss Lavinia Fluttermere.

DEAR LORD DEVONPORT,—I am writing on behalf of my sister Penelope as well as on my own to bring before you a difficulty under which we are labouring in connection with your Lordship's order in regard to the consumption of food. We are two sisters, the daughters of a country clergyman, who died when I was eighteen and Penelope a year and a half younger. I tell you this to show you that we were not accustomed in our youth to luxurious living. For many years now Penelope and I have lived together in a very small way on the income of an annuity for our joint lives which was bought with a sum of money left to us by an uncle. On this we have managed to get along comfortably, and have even been able to pay for occasional help in the work of our very modest household. When your Lordship's food order was issued we determined to obey it strictly, being glad of an opportunity to show our patriotic devotion to the cause of our country. "It will be hard for us, Penelope," I said, "for we are not used to such quantities of meat, and even the allowance of bread is too great, I fear, for our poor appetites; but, since Lord DEVONPORT wishes it, all we can do is to obey, even though this may entail a change in our manner of living and an increase in our weekly expenses." Penelope agreed, and on this principle we have endeavoured to act. We have, however, now found the task to be beyond our capacity, though we have struggled loyally to fulfil the duty imposed upon us; and we write to ask your Lordship to grant us some dispensation, lest permanent plethora should ensue.


Mr. Punch desires to support very heartily Lord BERESFORD'S appeal on behalf of the fine work of the Ladies' Emergency Committee of the Navy League, who supply warm clothing to the crews of men-of-war and mercantile auxiliaries; equipment to Naval hospitals, and parcels of food and other necessaries to Naval prisoners of war. The strain upon the Committee's resources has been very heavy, and Mr. Punch is confident that his friends will not allow our gallant sea-services to suffer through any need which it is within their power to supply.

Cheques may be made payable to Admiral Lord BERESFORD, and addressed to the Hon. Secretary, Ladies' Emergency Committee of the Navy League, 56, Queen Anne Street, Cavendish Street, W.

"£1 REWARD.—Lost, Umbrella, engraved W.C.B. 1865-1915."—The Times.

We do not believe that such a faithful friend is lost; it has simply gone out to celebrate its jubilee.


A friend who was in France last week tells me that the only cheap article of diet just now is eggs, which are about 1½d. each. Meat, he said, averages 5f. a kilo, which is about the equivalent of 5s. a pound."—Daily Mirror.

No wonder we are not allowed to have the metric system.

[pg 231]





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

MR. CONRAD'S new hero is an unnamed chief-mate who gets his first command to a sailing vessel, also unnamed—queer and of course quite deliberate instance of the author's reticent, allusive method which is so entirely plausible. Her last captain, who had some mad savage hatred of ship and crew, died aboard her and was buried in latitude 8° 20'. The chief-mate, who got the vessel back to port and remained under her new captain, is convinced that the dead man haunts her vengefully; and one desperate accident after another, racking a crew overwhelmed with fever, almost persuades the captain to share the mate's illusion that 8° 20'—The Shadow Line (DENT)—is possessed by the dead scoundrel. I found the book less interesting as a yarn than as an example of the astonishingly conscious and perfect artistry of this really great master of the ways of men and words. Mr. CONRAD never made me believe that the new captain would go so near sharing his mate's superstitious panic (which is perhaps because I know little of sailor-men save what he has taught me); and in the incident, so curiously and deliberately detailed, of his finding the quinine bottles filled with a worthless substitute, and letting them "each in turn" slip to ground, I had again the most unusual shock of being unable to accept the credibility of his invention. This is so rare an experience that it only throws into relief for me the fine craft of this most brilliant of our impressionists, who tells so much with such delicate strokes, so conscientiously considered, so unerringly conveyed.

This is the End (MACMILLAN) is the kind of book that only youth can write—youth at its best. It has the qualities and defects of its parentage; but the qualities, a fine careless rapture, sensitive vision, a wayward and jolly fantasy, challenging provocativeness, faintly malicious humour, are dominant. Miss STELLA BENSON will grow out of her youthful cynicisms and intolerances, will focus her effects, without losing any of her substantial equipment. This is by no means the end. It is the second step of a very brilliant beginning. Already it shows improvement upon her first clever book, I Pose; a surer touch, a finer restraint. What is it all about? Does that matter? It is the manner of the telling rather than what is told that constitutes the charm. If I tell, you that Jay runs away from a respectable home, and, after a grievous experiment as a bolster-filler, becomes a bus-conductor, has a romantic friendship with a middle-aged married man, and marries the faithful Mr. Morgan, her dead brother's soldier friend, I have told you just nothing at all. I will merely add that you will be foolish if you miss this book.

I have to begin by confessing that, despite its most attractive title, my first glance into French Windows (ARNOLD) produced in me some feeling of prejudice. It was not that I failed to recognise both dignity and beauty of phrase in the writing; on the contrary, I told myself that "Mr. JOHN AYSCOUGH" had been betrayed by his own appreciation of beautiful phrases into an indulgence in "style," a deliberate arrangement of his war-pictures that was somehow out of harmony with the stark and horrible simplicity of their subject. But I hasten to make confession that this was but [pg 232] a passing and, I am convinced, a wrong judgment. Indeed, the abiding impression that the book has left upon me is one of enormous sincerity. Both as a soldier and a priest, the writer enjoyed (as his publishers quite justly say) special opportunities for getting into touch with men of all sorts and conditions. This, aided by his own gift of sympathy and comradeship, has resulted in a book that is very largely a record of fleeting but genuine friendships, made with individual soldiers, both French and English, in the Western battle. Many of them contain portraits and character-studies (a pedantic term for anything so sensitive and sympathetic as these tributes to nameless heroes, but I can find no better) that linger in the memory. I defy you, for example, to forget soon the story of that winter walk taken by the writer and certain officer-boys of his unit to the Cistercian Monastery, and what Chutney said by the way; and what happened afterwards. For the sake of such sincere and memorable sketches as this I am more than ready to forgive what seemed like a touch of artifice elsewhere.

Mr. GEORGE MOORE, continuing his labours as reviser and editor-in-chief of the Moorish masterpieces, has now directed his attention to A Modern Lover. Finding this (presumably) not modern enough, he has refashioned and republished it under the admirably comprehensive title of Lewis Seymour and Some Women (HEINEMANN). Not having the original at hand, I am unable to indulge in comparisons; but there seems good reason to suppose that Lewis Seymour's relations with the three amiable ladies who assist his artistic and amatory career remain very much what they probably were in the beginning. As for the tale itself, that too will hardly belie your expectation, being full of cleverness, carried off with an infectious gaiety, and boasting (I use the word advisedly) more than a sufficiency of that rather assertive and school-boy impropriety which the charitable might quote as evidence of our author's perpetual youth. It is an interesting, though perhaps futile, speculation to reflect how Mr. THOMAS HARDY, to whose plots the present bears some resemblance, might have handled it. Had Lewis Seymour pursued his education in womanhood under the guidance of the wizard of Dorchester there would probably have been less of the atmosphere of holiday humour; but, on the other hand, we should almost certainly have been spared the quite superfluous naughtiness of the Parisian scenes. By the way, talking of Paris, surely I am right in supposing that the vision of a revived Versailles was an experience of two ladies? It is unexpected to find Mr. MOORE denying anything to "the sex."

Of the late Mr. JACK LONDON'S alternative methods of writing, the defiantly propagandist and the joyously adventurous, I, being an average reader, have always preferred the latter; so that, remembering how separate and distinct he usually kept his two styles, I expected, in taking up The Strength of the Strong (MILLS AND BOON), to be immediately either disappointed or gratified. But, as it turns out, the half-dozen essay-stories that make up this slender volume are by no means characteristic, for there is very little plot in any, and even less attempt forcibly to extract a moral; and amongst them are two not very successful North of Ireland studies that seem to have no connection at all with the author's usual manner. The volume is made up of social pictures, all (as Mr. LONDON liked to pretend) within his own experience, presented impartially for you to study, and draw, if you choose, your own conclusions. That experience ranges, comprehensively enough, from a first-hand sketch of primeval man attempting rather unhappily to group himself in clans and tribes, to a journalistic note of the Yellow Peril that materialised, we learn, somewhere late in the twentieth century and was overcome by science liberating disease—a Hunnish method no longer novel. Of the series I like best the tale of the San Francisco professor of dual personality, who by dint of much practical study of labour problems came at last to cut loose from his own circle and disappear in the army of industry. In this chapter alone is there a spark of the volcanic fire, now unhappily no longer in eruption, that blazes in such great stories as The Sea Wolf, Adventure and Burning Daylight.

Though there may be no very particular reason why you should be invited to read The Love Story of Guillaume-Marc (HUTCHINSON) it is, I vouch, a vivid enough tale of its genre. Squeamish folk, perhaps, may think that this is not the most opportune time at which to draw attention to the blood-lust that was so marked a feature of the French Revolution. But, granted that you do not suffer from squeams, you will find Miss MARIAN BOWER a deft weaver of romance. Here love and adventure walk firmly hand-in-hand, and from the moment Guillaume-Marc makes his entrance upon the stage until the happy ending is reached any day might have been his last. The villain, too, is a satisfactory scoundrel, and cunning withal. "Brains," he considered, "may conceive revolutions, but it is the empty stomach which propagates them." I wonder whether they have the brains for it in Berlin.


Helen (who has been reckoning termination of the War by counting opposite diner's prune stones). "MOTHER, I DO BELIEVE IT'S GOING TO BE THIS YEAR!"

According to a recent official communiqué from Petrograd, among the captures on the Caucasian Front was "an apomecometer (an instrument for estimating altitudes)." It is understood that the latest Turkish estimate of the "All Highest" was captured with the instrument, but was found to be unfit for publication.

"The Weser Zeitung now reports from Berlin that deliberations by the State authorities have led to the decision that from April 15 the meat ration will be increased to half a kilometre (about 17½ ozs.) per week."—Liverpool Daily Post.

This must refer to the sausage-ration, which by reason of its length and tenuity is now advertised by the butchers (civilian) of Berlin as "The HINDENBURG line."

"STEAM LUNCH—50 ft. x 7¼ ft., fast, liquid fuel."—Yachting Monthly.

A meal of these dimensions should surely attract the attention both of the FOOD CONTROLLER and the Liquor Control Board.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol.
152, April 4, 1917, by Various


***** This file should be named 14974-h.htm or 14974-h.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:

Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Keith Edkins and the PG Online
Distributed Proofreading Team.

Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.

Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial



To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at

Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works

1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.  See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United

1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or

1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.

1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.

1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.net),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided

- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."

- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
     License.  You must require such a user to return or
     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
     Project Gutenberg-tm works.

- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
     of receipt of the work.

- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.

1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.


1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.

of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal

defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER

1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.

Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm

Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.

Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.

The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at http://pglaf.org

For additional contact information:
     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
     Chief Executive and Director

Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit http://pglaf.org

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
donations.  To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate

Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic

Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:


This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.


Web Analytics