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قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 156, February 26, 1919
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Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 156, February 26, 1919
PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
Vol. 156.
February 26, 1919.
CHARIVARIA.
"GERMANY," says Count RANTZAU, "cannot be treated as a second-rate nation." Not while it is represented by tenth-rate noblemen.
People are now asking who the General is who has threatened not to write a book about the War?
On Sunday week, at Tallaght, Co. Dublin, seven men attacked a policeman. The campaign for a brighter Sunday is evidently not wanted in Ireland.
The United States Government is sending a Commission to investigate industrial conditions in the British Isles. Mr. LLOYD GEORGE, we understand, has courteously offered to try to keep one or two industries going until the Commission arrives.
"Everything that happened more than a fortnight ago," says Mr. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW in The Daily News, "always is forgotten in this land of political trifling." We must draw what comfort we can from the reflection that Mr. SHAW himself happened more than a fortnight ago.
"Margarine," says an official notice, "can be bought anywhere after to-day." This is not the experience of the man who entered an ironmonger's shop and asked for a couple of feet of it.
A woman who threatened to murder a neighbour was fined one shilling at Chertsey. We shudder to think what it would have cost her if she had actually carried out her threat.
A contemporary refers to "those abominable face-masks" now being worn in London. Can this be a revival of the late Mr. RICHARDSON'S campaign against the wearing of whiskers?
"A Court of Justice is not a place of amusement," said Mr. Justice ROCHE at Manchester Assizes. Mr. Justice DARLING'S rejoinder is eagerly awaited.
We are informed by "Hints for the Home," that "Salsify may be lifted during the next few days." So may Susan, if you don't watch out.
So many safes have been stolen from business premises in London that one enterprising man has hit upon the novel idea of putting a notice on his safe, "Not to be Taken Away."
A sapper of the Royal Engineers who climbed the steeple of a parish church and reached the clock told the local magistrates that he wanted to see the dial. That, of course, is no real excuse in these days of cheap wrist-watches.
By order of the Local Government Board influenza has been made a notifiable disease. We sincerely hope that this will be a lesson to it.
An evening paper suggests that the Albert Hall should be purchased by the nation. We understand, however, that our contemporary has been forestalled by a gentleman who has offered to take it on the condition that a bathroom (h. and c.) is added.
A correspondent writes to a paper to ask if it is necessary to have a licence to play the cornet in the streets. All that is necessary, we understand, is a strong constitution and indomitable pluck.
We are asked to deny the foolish allegation that several M.P.s only went into Parliament because they couldn't get sleeping accommodation elsewhere.
In connection with the rush for trains on the Underground, an official is reported to have said that things would be much better if everybody undertook not to travel during the busiest hours.
An American journal advertises a lighthouse for sale. It is said to be just the thing for tall men in search of a seaside residence.
The policeman who told the Islington bus-driver to take off his influenza mask is going on as well as can be expected.
Pwllheli Town Council is reported to have refused the offer of a German gun as a trophy. The Council is apparently piqued because it was not asked in the first instance whether it wanted a war at all.
All Metropolitan police swords have been called in. We decline to credit the explanation that, in spite of constant practice, members of the force, kept cutting their mouths.
French politicians are advocating the giving of an additional vote for each child in the family. In France, it will be remembered, the clergy are celibate.
"We are looking for the ideal omnibus," says an official of the L.G.O.C. We had no idea that they had lost it. Meanwhile their other omnibus continues to cause a good deal of excitement as it flashes by.
"Buildings occupied by the League of Nations," says The Daily Mail, "are to enjoy the benefits of extraterritoriality." It sounds a lot, but we were afraid it was going to be something much more expensive than that.
"In a month," says a news item, "fourteen abandoned babies have been found in London." Debauched, no doubt, by the movies.
A Striking Advertisement.
"Negib Fahmy, Assistant Goods Manager Egyptian State Railways, was attacked by a discharged railway poster a short time ago."—Egyptian Gazette.
"On Sunday morning the engine of the Paris-Marseilles express on arriving at the Gare de Lyon mounted the platform and only came to a standstill in front of the buffet."—Times.
Machinery nowadays exhibits almost human intelligence.
"BOURNEMOUTH.—Delicate or Chronic Lady received in charming house."—British Weekly.
In the new army a gentleman may be "temporary;" but once a lady always a lady.
THE HUN AS IDEALIST.
A guileless nation, very soft of heart,
Keen to embrace the whole wide world as brothers,
Anxious to do our reasonable part
In reparation of the sins of others,
We note with pained surprise
How little we are loved by the Allies.
What if the Fatherland was led astray
From homely paths, the scene, of childlike gambols,
Lured to pursue Ambition's naughty way
(And incidentally make earth a shambles),
All through a wicked Kaiser—
Are they, for that blind fault, to brutalize her?
Just when we hoped the past was clean forgot,
They want us to restore their goods and greenery!
They want us to replace upon the spot
The "theft" (oh, how unfair!) of that machinery;
By which our honest labours
Might have secured the markets of our neighbours!
Bearing the cross for other people's, crime,
Eager to purge the wrong by true repentance,
When to a purer air we fain would climb,
How can we do it under such a sentence?
Is this the law of Love,
Supposed to animate the Blessed Dove?
Oh, not for mere material loss alone,
Not for our trade, reduced to pulp, we whimper,
But for our dashed illusions we make moan,


