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قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 153, October 31, 1917
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 153, October 31, 1917
reported that Sinn Fein's second-best war-cry, "Up the KAISER," is causing some irritation in the Wilhelmstrasse, where it is freely admitted that the KAISER is already far higher up than the circumstances justify.
The Lambeth magistrate recently referred to the case of a boy of fifteen who is paying income-tax. Friends of the youth have since been heard to say that there is such a thing as carrying the spirit of reckless bravado too far.
"Farm work is proceeding slowly," says a Midland correspondent of the Food Production Department. Those who recall the impetuous abandon of the pre-war agriculturist may well ask whether Boloism has not been work at again.
Railway fares in Germany have been doubled; but it is doubtful if this transparent artifice will prevent the KAISER from going about the place making speeches to his troops on all the fronts.
It is announced that promotion in the U.S. services will be based solely on fitness, without regard to seniority. These are the sort of revolutionists who would cover up grave defects in army organisation by the meretricious expedient of winning the War.
Inquiries, says The Pall Mall Gazette, disclose a wide-spread habit among customers of bribing the assistants in grocery shops. The custom among profiteers of giving them their cast-off motor cars probably acted as the thin end of the wedge.
A dear old lady writes that she is no longer nervous about air-raids, now that her neighbourhood has been provided with an anticraft airgun.
THE AIR-RAID SEASON.
THE RESULT OF A LITTLE UNASSUMING ADVERTISEMENT: "CELLARMAN WANTED.—APPLY, 82, —— STREET, W."
Food Economy in Ireland.
"Gloves, stockings, boots and shoes betoken the energy and meal of the day, something tasty is desirable, and a very economical dish of this kind can be made by making..."—Belfast Evening Telegraph.
ZEPP-FLIGHTING IN THE HAUTES ALPES.
To J.M.
Recall, dear John, a certain day
Back in the times of long ago—
A stuffy old estaminet
Under the great peaks fledged with snow;
The Spring that set our hearts rejoicing
As up the serried mountains' bar
We climbed our tortuous way Rolls-Roycing
From Gap to Col Bayard.
Little we dreamed, though that high air
Quickens imagination's flight,
What monstrous bird and very rare
Would in these parts some day alight;
How, like a roc of Arab fable,
A Zepp en route from London town,
Trying to find its German stable,
Would here come blundering down.
The swallows—you remember? yes?—
Northward, just then, were heading straight;
No hint they dropped by which to guess
That other fowl's erratic fate;
An inner sense supplied their vision;
Not one of them contused his scalp
Or lost his feathers in collision
Bumping against an Alp.
But they, the Zepp-birds, flopped and barged
From Lunéville to Valescure
(Where we of old have often charged
The bunkers of the Côte d'Azur);
And half a brace—so strange and far a
Course to the South it had to shape—