PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
Vol. 152.
Almanack, June 27, 1917.
CALENDAR, 1917.
January February March S ... 7 14 21 28 S ... 4 11 18 25 S ... 4 11 18 25 ... M 1 8 15 22 29 M ... 5 12 19 26 M ... 5 12 19 26 ... Tu 2 9 16 23 30 Tu ... 6 13 20 27 Tu ... 6 13 20 27 ... W 3 10 17 24 31 W ... 7 14 21 28 W ... 7 14 21 28 ... Th 4 11 18 25 ... Th 1 8 15 22 ... Th 1 8 15 22 29 ... F 5 12 19 26 ... F 2 9 16 23 ... F 2 9 16 23 30 ... S 6 13 20 27 ... S 3 10 17 24 ... S 3 10 17 24 31 ... April May June S 1 8 15 22 29 S ... 6 13 20 27 S ... 3 10 17 24 ... M 2 9 16 23 30 M ... 7 14 21 28 M ... 4 11 18 25 ... Tu 3 10 17 24 ... Tu 1 8 15 22 29 Tu ... 5 12 19 26 ... W 4 11 18 25 ... W 2 9 16 23 30 W ... 6 13 20 27 ... Th 5 12 19 26 ... Th 3 10 17 24 31 Th ... 7 14 21 28 ... F 6 13 20 27 ... F 4 11 18 25 ... F 1 8 15 22 29 ... S 7 14 21 28 ... S 5 12 19 26 ... S 2 9 16 23 30 ... July August September S 1 8 15 22 29 S ... 5 12 19 26 S ... 2 9 16 23 30 MAFTER THE WAR: THE WAR-WORK HABIT.
AFTER THE WAR: THE WAR-WORK HABIT.
HOME-MADE MUNITIONS.
"HEAVENS, SERGEANT, WHAT'S THIS?"
"THAT JOKE OF MINE, YOU KNOW—WHEN I ASK A RECRUIT WHO'S BEEN THROWN, 'WHO THE DEVIL ASKED YOU TO DISMOUNT, SIR?' WELL, HERE'S ONE OF THE PAPERS SAYS IT'S THE OLDEST WHEEZE IN THE WORLD!"
A FALSE ALARM.
THE COMPLETE FILM ACTOR.
Mr. Percy Garrick Smithers, actor, finding the path to fame less smooth on the legitimate stage than he believed it to be by the Cinema route, went to a producer of film plays and offered his services.
"Yes," said the producer, "I might possibly give you lead in a big sensational I am about to put up. Are you a good pugilist?"
"I have indulged a little in the pastime of sparring," answered Percy.
"Good," said the producer. "You see, the picture opens with Bill Bloodred, the champion prize-fighter, demanding certain documents from his aged uncle. As the latter won't surrender the papers. Bill gives him a swinging blow to the jaw, a few more heavy ones to various other parts of the body, and then proceeds to kick the old man to death as the latter lies helpless on the floor. It's one of those thrilling scenes the juveniles like so much! Then you come in and tackle Bill."
"Quite so," said Percy.
"A terrific fight ensues. Bill surpasses anything he has ever done in the ring, and it goes on until at last you collapse. Bill escapes, leaving you for dead. Do you catch the idea?"
"Pretty well," said Percy.
"Now Bill goes straight away to the police office and states that you have murdered his uncle. When you come to, you are surrounded by about twenty members of the police force, the chief of whom slips the handcuffs over your wrists. With one wrench you snap the chain and are free!"
"With one wrench?" asked Percy, to be sure he was getting the details correctly.
"With one wrench. Then ensues another big struggle. This time it is yourself versus the police."
"The twenty?"
"Quite right. After some time you show signs of weakening, and the police look like getting the upper hand."
"Ah!" remarked Percy.
"But just then Mignon, the old man's daughter, emerges from behind a screen. She tells the police the facts and proclaims your absolute innocence."
"Good!" said Percy.
"The chief of the police thereupon shakes you by the hand and apologises. You indicate that it will now be your life's work to bring the assassin, Bill, to justice, and then you quit. I should mention that before leaving you fall in love with Mignon, and promise that on your return you'll marry her at once. That parting scene will want a bit of acting. Your countenance must show successive degrees of pain, as if you had eaten something that was disagreeing with your digestion; and you mustn't omit the most effective suffering expression of all—chin raised, mouth open, eyelids closed tightly—just as if you were about to sneeze. You'll find your experience on the stage quite useful, you know."
"Oh, quite, quite," agreed Percy.
"Now you are out in the street. You seize the first motor-car at hand, and start off on the grand hunt after Bill. Through the crowded streets, out into the
"Certainly," said Percy.
"That is to say—almost. Unfortunately, in turning a sharp corner, the car plunges into the waters of a rapid mountain torrent!"
"Dear, dear!" said Percy.
"But you come safely through—"
Percy heaved a sigh of relief.
"You are seen falling, falling, falling, still in your car, with the descending cataract. Over and over you are turned in the seething waters, dashed against rocks, hurled through ravines, and finally you are given a sheer drop down a perpendicular waterfall of three hundred feet. Out of the white foam formed in the bed of the waters you emerge swimming strongly hand over hand, until at last you reach the broad waters of the placid river, and finally the shore. Here you notice a train passing some little distance away, and in it, gazing out of one of the windows, you observe—Bill, the murderer! You at once start in pursuit; by a superb effort you catch up the train, and just succeed in swinging yourself safely on board. You can do a little sprinting, I suppose?"
"I could give an ordinary train a bit of a start, no doubt," said Percy with confidence.
"Just so," pursued the producer. "And now you find yourself confronting the miscreant, Bill. The train is passing through a city. It is on the elevated railway. Bill makes a dash for the door, springs out, and lands on the roof of a house. You follow him—your leap being considerably greater, because between his jump and yours the train has proceeded a certain distance."
"Precisely," said Percy.
"Now there is a scramble over the roof-tops. You climb up pipes, slide down slates, leap across spaces between separate houses, cling to coping stones, and all that sort of thing."
"I grasp the idea," said Percy.
"At last Bill is seized with a notion. He throws himself on to the telephone wires, and, hanging by his hands, manages to convey himself across to the houses on the opposite side of the road. You imitate him. As Bill arrives on the other side, he turns and cuts the wires on which you are crossing. Before the ends of the wires fall, however, you turn a quick somersault and land beside Bill. Once more there is a race over the roofs until Bill reaches a factory chimney. Down the shaft he dives. So do you. Into the furnace below, then out of it, the chase continues—it doesn't pause for a moment."
"Not a moment," echoed Percy as in a trance.
"Yes, it does, for you and Bill have dragged out of the furnace some of the burning coal; this has caught some inflammable material, and soon the whole factory is alight. Now you rush round to alarm the workers. And what do you find? Mignon! She had gone out into the world to earn her own bread, and had found employment in this factory. The manager of the factory, an arch villain, had noted Mignon's beauty, and just as you arrive he is dragging her away. You snatch Mignon from his grasp. At that moment Bill comes up, takes in the situation, seizes the treacherous manager, and flings him into the devouring flames. Then Bill assists you to carry Mignon through the suffocating smoke out to safety, but as you disappear the now dying manager draws his revolver and fires after you. You are struck by the bullet, but bear up until, with Bill's help, you have brought Mignon out of danger. Then you faint away."
"Not till then?" said Percy.
"No, not till then. The last scene of all will be your wedding at the church. Mignon, of course, is the bride, and Bill is your best man. You see, he retrieved his character by the aid given at the factory fire, and you have forgiven him the murder of his uncle. Oh, and, by the way, you wouldn't have to be really shot at the rehearsals, you know."
"That's fine!" said Percy. "When would you like me to start?"
"A week from now."
"Good. That will give me a nice opportunity to get fit, and to have one last good time in case any unforeseen mishap should occur in the course of rehearsal. Of course I see no reason whatever to anticipate any accident, but they have been known to happen under circumstances even more commonplace, if that were possible."
THE EVICTION OF AN ENEMY IN OUR MIDST.
THE EVICTION OF AN ENEMY IN OUR MIDST.
MESOPOTAMIA.
Tommy (to Padre, who has been telling him about the Scriptural associations connected with the country). "SUPPOSED TO BE THE GARDEN OF EDEN, IS IT, SIR? WELL, IT WOULDN'T TAKE NO FLAMIN' SWORD TO KEEP ME OUT OF IT."THE TRUCE—AND AFTER.
[Lines alleged to have been recently found on the back of a miniature target (of which only the bull's-eye was perforated), and believed to be the work of a private in the County of
This year at ease on Ben Macquhair
Couches a certain stag;
Fearless he sniffs his native air
Because he knows I can't be there
To scare him off his crag.
This year his instinct (true, though dumb)
Tells him by subtle signs
No bullet loosed by me shall come
Shattering earth below his tum
Or whistling through his tines.
Yet little knows he why the hill
Misses my wonted feet,
Or how I've learned a lethal skill
At mimic butts that bodes him ill
When next I stalk his beat.
I trow that he would swoon for fright
Upon the purple ling
To know that in a decent light
I'd undertake the death, at sight,
Of any living thing.
O not for nothing do I grow
Efficient, eye and hand,
Schooling myself to strike a blow
In home defence against a foe
That never means to land.
Some fruit of toil there yet shall be
For this poor volunteer;
When War's abatement sets him free
From bloodless duties, I foresee
A deadly time for deer!
O.S.
MR. PUNCH'S UNAUTHORISED WAR PICTURES.
FIRST SERIES. AT THE FRONT.
AT THE FRONT.
AT THE FRONT.
AT THE FRONT.
Mr. PUNCH'S NATIONAL SERVICE FOR ALL.
It is not implied that the above are at present out of War Work—but Mr. Punch is very anxious to see everybody's natural gifts employed to the best advantage.SECOND SERIES. IN FRONT OF THE FRONT.
SOME OF THE ENEMY'S UNFULFILLED ANTICIPATIONS.
IN FRONT OF THE FRONT.
IN FRONT OF THE FRONT.
IN FRONT OF THE FRONT.
FASHIONS IN THE NEW GERMANY.
[Dr. EUGEN WOLFF has contributed to the Illustrirte Zeitung an article on "How we are to order our External Life in the New Germany," from which we cull the following selected passages.]