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قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 150, January 5, 1916
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PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
Vol. 150.
January 5, 1916.
The Whitefriars Press."
RESOLUTIONS.
I will not breakfast in my bed
With downy cushions at my head;
That would be very wrong—and so
Away the eggs and bacon go!
I will not read in bed at night
And burn the dear electric light;
Nor buy another costly hat;
Oh no! I'm much too good for that.
But I will rise before the dawn
And weed and cut and roll the lawn;
My border I will plant with veg,
Abundantly from hedge to hedge.
And all the day I'll practise thrift
And no more happily will drift
In deeper debt, as once, alas!
—But what an awful year I'll pass.
The Art of Sinking.
"Altogether we sank one gunboat, five steamers (one of 3,000 tons), and 17 large sailing ships, three trains, and one railway embankment."—Manchester Guardian.
Very Light Marching Order.
From a notice issued to recruits for the New Zealand Expeditionary Force:—
"You should report wearing a pair of serviceable boots, and bring with you your toilet outfit—no additional clothing is required."
"In a conversation with members of the Press Mr. Ford said now was the time for peace on the basis of the status quo anti bellum.
Scotch Paper.
He always spells it that way.
AN ILL-USED AUTHOR.
"I gather, Sir," remarked my fellow-traveller, after I had put away the writing-block on which I had been jotting down the outline of an article, "that you are a literary man, like myself?"
We were the only occupants of a compartment in a L. & N. W. R. carriage. I had been too absorbed till then to notice his appearance, but I now observed that he had rather unkempt hair, luminous eyes, and a soft hat. "Oh, well," I admitted, "I write."
"But I take it that, whatever you write, it is not poetry," he said. What led him to this inference I cannot say, but I had to confess that it was correct.
"Still, even though you are not a Poet yourself, I hope," he said, "you can feel some sympathy for one who has been so infamously treated as I have."
I replied that I hoped so too.
"Then, Sir," said he, "I will tell you my unhappy story. At the beginning of this War I was approached by certain Railway magnates who shall be nameless. It appeared that they had realised, very rightly, that their official notices were couched in too cold and formal a style to reach the heart of their public. So they commissioned me to supply what I may term the human touch. As a poet, I naturally felt that this could only be effectively done through the medium of verse. Well, I rose to the occasion, Sir; I produced some lines which, printed as they were written, must infallibly have placed me at the head of all of my contemporaries. But they were not printed as they were written. In proof of which I will trouble you to read very carefully the opening paragraph of those 'Defence of the Realm Regulations' immediately above your head ... Only the opening paragraph at present, please!"
I was somewhat surprised, but, thinking it best to humour him, I read the first sentence, which was: "In view of possible attack by hostile aircraft, it is necessary that the blinds of all trains should be kept down after sunset," and gave him my opinion of it.
"Whether," he said, with some acerbity, "it is or is not as lucidly expressed as you are pleased to consider, only the beginning of it is mine. This is what I actually wrote:—
"'In view of possible attack
By hostile aircraft overhead,
'Tis necessary now, alack!
Soon as old Sol has sought his bed,
That those who next the window sit,
Though they'd prefer to watch the gloaming,
Should draw the blind, nor leave a slit,
Keeping it down until they're homing,
Else on the metals will be thrown
A glowing trail as from a comet,
And Huns to whom a train is shown
Will most indubitably bomb it!'
"That," he observed complacently, "is not only verse of the highest order, but clearly conveys the reason for such precautions, which the official mind chose to cut out. And now let me ask you to read the next paragraph." I did so. "At night-time when the blinds are drawn" it ran, "passengers are requested before alighting to make sure when the train stops that it is at the platform."
"Which," he cried fiercely, "is their mangled and mutilated version of this:—
"'At night-time when the blinds are drawn
(As screens against those devils' spawn,
Which love the gloom, but dread the dawn),
A train may be at standstill,
Then we request 'twill not occur
That some impatient passenger,
Whose nerves are in a chronic stir,
And neither feet nor hands still,
Without preliminary peep
Will forth incontinently leap,
Alighting in a huddled heap
To lie, a limp or flat form,
In some inhospitable ditch,
If not on grittier ballast, which
(The darkness far surpassing pitch)
He took to be the platform!'
"As to the next paragraph," he continued, "I don't complain so much, though, personally, I consider 'Extract from Order made by the Secretary of State for the Home Department' a very poor paraphrase of the resounding couplet in which I introduced him:—
"'Now speaks in genial tones, from heart to heart meant,
The Secretary for the Home Department!'
"I could have overlooked that, Sir, if they had retained the lines I had written for him. But they've only let him speak the first four words—'Passengers in Railway Carriages'—and then drivel on thus: 'which are provided with blinds must keep the blinds covered so as to cover the windows'—a clumsy tautology, Sir, for which I am sure no Home Secretary would care to be held responsible, and from which I had been at some pains to save him, as you may judge when I read you the original text:—
"'Passengers in railway carriages
Possess a sense which none disparages;
So those who are not perverse or froward
May be trusted to see that the blinds are lowered,
To cover the windows so totally
That no one inside can be seen, or see.
Mem.—This need not be done, as lately decided,
If blinds for the windows have not been provided.'
"But," he went on, "the deadliest injury those infernal officials reserved for the last. If you read