قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 152, February 28, 1917
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Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 152, February 28, 1917
PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
Vol. 152.
February 28th, 1917.
CHARIVARIA.
One of the latest peculiarities of the KAISER is an absolute horror at the thought of being prematurely buried. Several experts however say that this is impossible.
It appears that HINDENBURG accuses the CROWN PRINCE OF BAVARIA of having misunderstood an order, thus losing Grandcourt for the Germans. RUPPRECHT, we understand, retorted that the real culprits were the British.
In a character-sketch of VON BISSING, the Cologne Gazette says, "He is a fine musician and his execution is good." It would be.

THE PAPER SHORTAGE.
News Editor of "Daily Bugle Blast." "JUST TYPE A SHORT NOTICE THAT FINDERS OF FIRST SNOWDROP, CROCUS, PRIMROSE OR ANY EARLY SPRING PHENOMENA MUST APPRISE WORLD THROUGH OUR ADVERTISEMENT COLUMNS."
No German submarine, says ADMIRAL VON CAPELLE, has been lost since the beginning of the submarine war. This assurance has been received with the liveliest satisfaction by several U-boat commanders who have been in the awkward predicament of not knowing whether they were officially missing.
Captain BOY ED is stated to have returned to the United States disguised. Not on this occasion, we may assume, as an officer and a gentleman.
According to the ex-Portuguese Consul at Hamburg bone tickets are issued for making soup, but the bone must be returned to the authorities. Possibly the hardship of the procedure would be mitigated if ticket-holders were permitted to growl.
A metallurgical engineer at the Surbiton Tribunal said he was forty-one years old, and only missed the age-limit by eighteen hours. It is not thought that he did it purposely.
At the Billericay Tribunal an applicant last week stated that he had nine children, but upon counting them again he discovered that he had ten. There seems to be no excuse for this sort of thing, for Adding machines are now fairly well advertised.
Discussing the latest dress fashion, a lady writer says, "It is a most ridiculous dress. Nothing worse could be conceived." This, of course, is foolish talk, for the lady has not seen next season's style.
Austrian tobacconists are now prohibited from selling more than one cigar a day to a customer. To conserve the supply still further it is proposed to compel the tobacconist to offer each customer the alternative of nuts.
"When I see a map of the British Empire," said Mr. PONSONBY, M.P., "I do not feel any pride whatsoever." People have been known to express similar sentiments upon sighting certain M.P.'s.
"The public must hold up the policeman's hands," said a London magistrate in a recent traffic case. It is astonishing how some policeman are able to hold them up without assistance for several seconds at a time.
The staff of the new Pensions Minister, it is announced, will be over two thousand. It is still hoped, however, that there may be a small surplus which can be devoted to the needs of disabled soldiers.
Several men have been arrested in Dresden for passing counterfeit food tickets. The defence will presumably be that it wasn't real food.
The Royal Engineers are advertising for seamen for the Inland Water Transport Section. The Chief Transport Officer, we understand, has already hoisted his bargee.
Eggs to the number of six million odd have just arrived from China, says a news item, and will be used for confectionery. Had they arrived three months ago nothing could have averted a General Election.
A hen while being sold at a Red Cross sale at Horsham laid an egg which fetched 35s. In the best hen circles, where steady silent work is being done, there is a growing tendency to frown upon these isolated acts of ostentatious patriotism.
The Times, it seems, has not published a complete list of its rivals in the desperate struggle for the smallest circulation. A Finchley Church magazine has increased its price to 1½d. a copy.
Paper bags are no longer being used by greengrocers in Bangor, and their customers are patriotically assisting this economy by unpodding their green peas and rolling them home.
"Bacon, as a breakfast food," says an evening paper, "is fast disappearing from the table." We have often noticed it do so.
"It is pitiful and disgraceful," says the Berliner Tageblatt, "to watch women-folk walking beside their half-starved dogs. There is no room in warfare for dogs." We have all along felt sorry for the poor animals at a time when one half the dachshund does not know how the other half lives.
A Felicitous Juxtaposition.
"EGGS FOR LINCOLN HOSPITAL.
COL. —— LAYS A FALSE RUMOUR."—Lincoln Leader.
"PULLETS, laying 3s. 6d. each."—Provincial Paper.
Yet farmers persist in telling us there's no money in fowls.
"The first description of how the German Fleet reached Rome after the battle of Jutland is furnished by a neutral from Kiel."—Johannesburg Daily Mail.
Of all the roads that lead to Rome this is certainly the roughest.
The New Greeting: "Comment vous Devonportez-vous?"
TO GERMANIA
FROM SOMEBODY WHO OUGHT TO BE IN PRISON.
Air—"To Althæa from Prison."
When Peace with wide and shining wings
Invades this warring isle,
And my beloved Germania brings
Wearing her largest smile;
When close about her waist I coil
And mouth to mouth apply,
Not SNOWDEN, patriot son of toil,
Will be more pleased than I.
When round the No-Conscription board
The wines of Rhineland flow,
And many a rousing Hoch! is roared
To toast the status quo;
When o'er the swiftly-circling bowl
Our happy tears run dry,
Not PONSONBY, that loyal soul,
Will be more pleased than I.
When sausages and sauerkraut
Fulfil the air with spice,
And loosened tongues the praise shall shout
Of Peace-at-any-price;
When German weeds our lips employ
And hearts are full and high,
Not CHARLES TREVELYAN, blind with joy,
Will be more pleased than I.
Stone walls do not my feet confine
Nor yet a barbed-wire cage;
I talk at large and claim as mine
The freeman's heritage;
And, if this wicked War but end
Ere German hopes can die,
Not WILLIAM'S self, my dearest friend,
Will be more pleased than I.
O.S.

