PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

Vol. 146.

January 21, 1914.

"NOT VERY SPORTING LINKS, ARE THEY?"

EVEN EARTHQUAKES HAVE THEIR USE.

"AH, THAT'LL MAKE BETTER GOLF."

CHARIVARIA.

MAJOR-GENERAL LEONARD WOOD, chief of the U.S.A. General Staff, has reported that the American Army is, practically speaking, unarmed, and advises the immediate expenditure of £1,200,000 for artillery and ammunition. We fancy, however, that the present state of affairs is the result of a compromise with the American Peace party, who will not object to their country having an army so long as it is unarmed.

"VICTORY FOR THE ORANGE WOMEN.

DRURY LANE INSTITUTION TO CONTINUE."

This should put heart into the Orange Men of Ulster.

We hear that, to celebrate the recent glorious victory in Alsace, the little town of Zabern is to be re-named Säbeln.

The Rev. N. FITZPATRICK, describing a visit to the Balkan States in a lecture at the Camera Club, spoke of the difficulties he had with his laundry. The same bundle of clothes was soaked in Roumania, rough-dried in Bulgaria, and ironed in Servia. We are astonished that the lecturer should have made no mention of mangling, which we understand is done well in the Balkan States.

The KAISER, we are told, has given instructions that his menus are in future to be written in German. What, by the way, is the French for Sauerkraut?

Mr. ARCHIBALD, a member of the Australian House of Representatives, has calculated that the value of the property of the five million inhabitants of the Commonwealth is £780,000,000. We cannot but think it is a mistake to divulge the fact with so many dishonest people about.

I do like your eyes is the latest bright thought for a Revue title. To be followed, no doubt, by Her nose isn't bad, is it? and What's wrong with her toes?

"FRENCH BATTLESHIP DROPPED."

Pall Mall Gazette.

Very careless of someone.

Reading that one of the features of the new British battleship class will be less draught, Aunt Caroline remarked that she was glad to hear this: she had always understood that during even half a gale it was very easy to catch cold at sea.

Sir RUFUS ISAACS has decided to take the title of Lord READING. This still leaves it open to a distinguished literary man, should he be made a peer, to become Lord Writing.

The age of pleasure! Where will it stop? Extract from The Witney Gazette:—"On Monday evening a very successful dance was given in the Corn Exchange ... The company numbered over one hundred, and dancing to the strains of Taylor's Oxford Scarlet Band was enjoyed till the early hours of Wednesday morning."

While Police Constable JAKEMAN was in Eldon Road, Reading, last week, a cat suddenly pounced on him and bit him. We have not yet received a full account of the incident, but apparently the constable was on detective duty and cleverly disguised as a mouse.

One of the cats shown at the Grand Championship Cat Show had her fur cut and trimmed like a poodle's. The matter has been much discussed in canine circles, and we understand that there may be trouble.

An express train travelling from Nice to Macon was, last week, beaten by an eagle, which raced it over a distance of eighteen miles. Birds are evidently being put upon their mettle by the aeroplanes.

Alleged notice outside Drury Lane:—

From Paris comes the news that a successor to the Tango has been found in the form of a Chinese dance known as the Tatao. The name, presumably, is a contraction of the words "Ta-ta, Tango."

A new character named "It" appears in the revival of The Darling of the Gods. We presume it is The Limit.

The manager of the Little Theatre is making arrangements for shilling seats for the first time in the history of the house. How is it going to be done? By Magic, of course.

"The Shepherdess without a Heart" continues to make good progress, and the medical profession is much interested.

A FAREWELL TOUR.

This is positively Chum's last appearance in print—for his own sake no less than for yours. He is conceited enough as it is, but if once he got to know that people are always writing about him in the papers his swagger would be unbearable. However, I have said good-bye to him now; I have no longer any rights in him. Yesterday I saw him off to his new home, and when we meet again it will be on a different footing. "Is that your dog?" I shall say to his master. "What is he? A Cocker? Jolly little fellows, aren't they? I had one myself once."

As Chum refused to do the journey across London by himself, I met him at Liverpool Street. He came up in a crate; the world must have seemed very small to him on the way. "Hallo, old ass," I said to him through the bars, and in the little space they gave him he wriggled his body with delight. "Thank Heaven there's one of 'em alive," he said.

"I think this is my dog," I said to the guard, and I told him my name.

He asked for my card.

"I'm afraid I haven't one with me," I explained. When policemen touch me on the shoulder and ask me to go quietly; when I drag old gentlemen from underneath motor-'buses, and they decide to adopt me on the spot; on all the important occasions when one really wants a card, I never have one with me.

"Can't give him up without proof of identity," said the guard, and Chum grinned at the idea of being thought so valuable.

I felt in my pockets for letters. There was only one, but it offered to lend me £10,000 on my note of hand alone. It was addressed to "Dear Sir," and though I pointed out to the guard that I was the "Sir," he still kept tight hold of Chum. Strange that one man should be prepared to trust me with £10,000, and another should be so chary of confiding to me a small black spaniel.

"Tell the gentleman who I am," I said imploringly through the bars. "Show him you know me."

"He's really all right," said Chum, looking at the guard with his great honest brown eyes. "He's been with us for years."

And then I had an inspiration. I turned down the inside pocket of my coat; and there, stitched into it, was the label of my tailor's with my name written on it. I had often wondered why tailors did this; obviously they know how stupid guards can be.

"I suppose that's all right," said the guard reluctantly. Of course I might have stolen the coat. I see his point.

"You—you wouldn't like a nice packing case for yourself?" I said timidly. "You see, I thought I'd put Chum on the lead. I've got to take him to Paddington, and he must be tired of his shell by now. It isn't as if he were really an armadillo."

The guard thought he would like a shilling and a nice packing case. Wood, he agreed, was always wood, particularly in winter, but there were times when