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قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 152, February 14, 1917
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Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 152, February 14, 1917
PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
Vol. 152.
February 14th, 1917.
CHARIVARIA.
"We will hold up wheat, we will hold up meat, we will hold up munitions of war and we will hold up the world's commerce," says Herr Ballin. Meanwhile his countrymen on the Western front are content to hold up their hands.
It is reported from German Headquarters that the Kaiser intends to confer on Count Bernstorff the Iron Cross with white ribbon. This has, we understand, caused consternation in official circles, where it is felt that after all the Count has done his best for Germany.
"We are at war," says the Berliner Tageblatt, a statement which only goes to prove that there is nothing hidden from the great minds of Germany.
The report that Mr. Henry Ford has offered to place his works at the disposal of the American authorities seems to indicate that he is determined to get America on his side, one way or the other.
Mr. S.F. Edge, the famous motorist, now on the Food Controller's staff, has given it as his opinion that a simple outdoor life is best for pigs. We are ashamed to say that our own preference for excluding them from our drawing-room has hitherto been dictated by purely selfish motives.
America is making every preparation for a possible war, and Mexico, not to be outdone, has decided to hold a Presidential election.
It is true that Mr. George Bernard Shaw has visited the Front, but too little has, we think, been made of the fact that he wore khaki—just like an ordinary person, in fact.
A sensational story reaches us to the effect that a new journalistic enterprise in Berlin is being devoted to the "reliable reporting of news." We have always maintained that to be successful in business you must strike out on original lines.
An exhibition of Zeppelin wreckage has been opened in the Middle Temple Gardens. The authorities are said to be considering an offer confidentially communicated to them by the German Government to add Count Zeppelin as an exhibit to the rest of the wreckage.
Members of the Honor Oak Golf Club are starting a piggery on their course, and an elderly golfer who practises on a common near London is about to write to The Spectator to state that on Saturday he started a rabbit.
The American Association for the Advance of Science decided at a recent convocation that the ape had descended from man. This statement has evoked a very strong protest in monkey circles.
The tuck-shops of Harrow have been loyally placed out of bounds by the boys themselves, though of course these establishments, like the playing fields of Eton, had their part in the winning of Waterloo.
One of our large restaurants is printing on its menus the actual weight of meat used in each dish. In others, fish is being put on the table accompanied by its own scales.
We are requested to carry home our own purchases, and one of the firms for whom we feel sorry is Messrs. Furness, Withy & Company, of Liverpool, who have just purchased Passage Docks, Cork.
Australia by organising her Commonwealth Loan Group, once again lives up to her motto, "Advance, Australia."
The Coroner of East Essex having set the example of keeping pigs in his rose garden, it is rumoured that The Daily Mail contemplates offering a huge prize for a Standard Rose-Scented Pig.
To be in line with many of our contemporaries we are able to state definitely that the War is bound to come to an end, though we have not yet fixed on the exact date.

FOOD DEVELOPMENT IN THE PARKS.
A Forecast of Next Valentine's Day.
Spinster (reads). "Dearest, meet me by the scarecrow in Hyde Park."
AIR-CASTLES.
When I grow up to be a man and wear whate'er I please,
Black-cloth and serge and Harris-tweed—I will have none of these;
For shaggy men wear Harris-tweed, so Harris-tweed won't do,
And fat commercial travellers are dressed in dingy blue;
Lack-lustre black to lawyers leave and sad souls in the City,
But I'll wear Linsey-Woolsey because it sounds so pretty.
I don't know what it looks like,
I don't know how it feels,
But Linsey-Woolsey to my fancy
Prettily appeals.
And when I find a lovely maid to settle all my cash on,
She will be much too beautiful to need the gauds of fashion.
No tinted tulle or taffeta, no silk or crêpe-de-chine
Will the maiden of my fancy wear—no chiffon, no sateen,
No muslin, no embroidery, no lace of costly price,
But she'll be clad in Dimity because it sounds so nice.
I don't know what it looks like,
I do not know its feel,
But a dimpled maid in Dimity
Was ever my ideal.
The Last Menu Card.
"To-day is one of the great moments of history. Germany's last card is on the table. It is war to the knife. Either she starves Great Britain or Great Britain starves her." —Mr. Curtin in "The Times."
Mr. Curtin has lost a great chance for talking of "War to the knife-and-fork." Possibly he was away in Germany at the time when this jeu d'esprit was invented.
"The Canadian papers are unanimous that the German peace proposals are premature, and will be refused saskatoon." —Examiner (Launceston, Tasmania).
We had not heard before that Germany had asked for Saskatoon, but anyway we are glad she is not going to get it.
From a schoolgirl's essay:—
"The Reconnaissance was the time when people began to wake up ... Friar Jelicoe was a very great painter; he painted angles."
Probably an ancestor of the gallant gentleman who recently had a brush with the enemy.
TACTLESS TACTICS.
Were I a burglar in the dock
With every chance of doing time,
With Justice sitting like a rock
To hear a record black with crime;
If my conviction seemed a cert,
Yet, by a show of late repentance,
I thought I might, with luck, avert
A simply crushing sentence;—
I should adopt, by use of art,
A pensive air of new-born grace,
In hope to melt the Bench's heart
And mollify its awful face;
I should not go and run amok,
Nor in a fit of senseless fury
Punch the judicial nose or chuck
An inkpot at the jury.
So with the Hun: you might assume

