(AND THE WOMEN) OUR SHIELD

Study of a German Gentleman going into Action

The rigours of the Censorship are pressing hard on war correspondents. Official news of importance trickles in in driblets: for the rest, newspaper men, miles from the front, are driven to eke out their dispatches with negligible trivialities. We know that Rheims Cathedral is suffering wanton bombardment. And a great many of us believe that at least a quarter of a million Russians have passed through England on their way to France. The number of people who have seen them is large: that of those who have seen people who have seen them is enormous.

PORTER: "Do I know if the Rooshuns has really come to England? Well, sir, if this don't prove it, I don't know what do. A train went through here full, and when it came back I knowed there'd been Rooshuns in it, 'cause the cushions and floors was covered with snow."

We gather that the Press Bureau has no notion whether the rumour is true or not, and cannot think of any way of finding out. But it consents to its publication in the hope that it will frighten the Kaiser. Apropos of the Russians we learn that they have won a pronounced victory (though not by us) at Przemysl.

Motto for the month: Grattez le Prusse et vous trouverez le barbare.

UNCONQUERABLE

THE KAISER: "So, you see--you've lost everything."
THE KING OF THE BELGIANS: "Not my soul."

October, 1914.

Antwerp has fallen and the Belgian Government removed to Havre. But the spirit of the King and his army is unshaken.

Unshaken, too, is the courage of Burgomaster Max of Brussels, "who faced the German bullies with the stiffest of stiff backs." The Kaiser has been foiled in his hope of witnessing the fall of Nancy, the drive for the Channel ports has begun at Ypres, and German submarines have retorted to Mr. Churchill's threat to "dig out" the German Fleet "like rats" by torpedoing three battleships. Trench warfare is in full and deadly swing, but "Thomas of the light heart" refuses to be downhearted:

He takes to fighting as a game,
He does no talking through his hat
Of holy missions: all the same
He has his faith--be sure of that:
He'll not disgrace his sporting breed
Nor play what isn't cricket. There's his creed.

Last month Lord Kitchener paid a high tribute to the growing efficiency of the "Terriers" and their readiness to go anywhere. Punch's representative with the "Watch Dogs" fully bears out this praise. They have been inoculated and are ready to move on. Some suggest India, others Egypt. "But what tempted the majority was the thought of a season's shooting without having to pay for so much as a gun licence, and so we decided for the Continent."

News from the front continues scanty, and Joffre's laconic communiqués might in sum be versified as follows:

On our left wing the state of things remains
Unaltered on a general review,
Our losses in the centre match our gains,
And on our right wing there is nothing new.

Nor do we gain much enlightenment from the "Eyewitness" with G.H.Q., though his literary skill in elegantly describing the things that do not matter moves our admiration.

THE BULL-DOG BREED

OFFICER: "Now, my lad, do you know what you are placed here for?"
RECRUIT: "To prevent the henemy from landin', sir."
OFFICER: "And do you think you could prevent him landing all by yourself?"
RECRUIT: "Don't know, sir, I'm sure. But I'd have a damn good try!"

The Kaiser's sons continue to distinguish themselves as first-class looters, and the ban laid on the English language, including very properly the word "gentleman," has been lifted in favour of Wilhelm Shakespeare.

The prophets are no longer so optimistic in predicting when the War will end. One of Mr. Punch's young men suggests Christmas, 1918. But 500 German prisoners have arrived at Templemore, co. Tipperary. It's a long, long way, but they've got there at last.

November, 1914.

The miracle of the Marne has been followed by another miracle--that of Ypres. Outgunned and outnumbered, our thin line has stemmed the rush to the sea.

The road to Calais has been blocked like that to Paris. Heartening news comes from afar of the fall of Tsing-tau before our redoubtable Japanese allies, and with it the crumbling of Germany's scheme of an Oriental Empire; of the British occupation of Basra; and of the sinking of the Emden, thanks to the "good hunting" of the Sydney--the first fruits of Australian aid. A new enemy has appeared in Turkey, but her defection has its consolations. It is something to be rid of an "unspeakable" incubus full of promises of reform never fulfilled, "sick" but unrepentant, always turning European discord to bloody account at the expense of her subject nationalities: in all respects a fitting partner for her ally and master.

At sea our pain at the loss of the Good Hope and Monmouth off Coronel is less than our pride in the spirit of the heroic Cradock, true descendant of Grenville and Nelson, prompt to give battle against overwhelming odds. The soul of the "Navy Eternal" draws fresh strength from his example. So, too, does the Army from the death of Lord Roberts, the "happy warrior," who passed away while visiting the Western front. The best homage we can pay him is not grief or

  Vain regret for counsel given in vain,
But service of our lives to keep her free
  The land he served: a pledge above his grave
To give her even such a gift as he,
  The soul of loyalty, gave.

Even the Germans have paid reluctant tribute to one who, as Bonar Law said in the House, "was in real life all, and more than all, that Colonel Newcome was in fiction." He was the exemplar in excelsis of those "bantams," "little and good," who, after being rejected for their diminutive stature, are now joining up under the new regulations:

Apparently he's just as small,
  But since his size no more impedes him
In spirit he is six foot tall--
  Because his country needs him.

THE EXCURSIONIST

TRIPPER WILHELM: "First Class to Paris."
CLERK: "Line blocked."
WILHELM: "Then make it Warsaw."
CLERK: "Line blocked."
WILHELM: "Well, what about Calais?"
CLERK: "Line blocked."
WILHELM: "Hang it! I must go somewhere! I