Produced by Jonathan Ingram, William Flis, Renald Levesque, and the
PG Online Distributed Proofreading Team.





PUNCH,

OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOL. 152.



June 27, 1917.




[Illustration]

PUNCH

VOL. CLII.

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, JUNE 27, 1917.

[Illustration]

CALENDAR, 1917.

  January

  S   ...   7  14  21  28
  M     1   8  15  22  29
  Tu    2   9  16  23  30
  W     3  10  17  24  31
  Th    4  11  18  25 ...
  F     5  12  19  26 ...
  S     6  13  20  27 ...


  February

  S   ...   4  11  18  25
  M   ...   5  12  19  26
  Tu  ...   6  13  20  27
  W   ...   7  14  21  28
  Th    1   8  15  22 ...
  F     2   9  16  23 ...
  S     3  10  17  24 ...


  March

  S   ...   4  11  18  25 ...
  M   ...   5  12  19  26 ...
  Tu  ...   6  13  20  27 ...
  W   ...   7  14  21  28 ...
  Th    1   8  15  22  29 ...
  F     2   9  16  23  30 ...
  S     3  10  17  24  31 ...


  April

  S     1   8  15  22  29
  M     2   9  16  23  30
  Tu    3  10  17  24 ...
  W     4  11  18  25 ...
  Th    5  12  19  26 ...
  F     6  13  20  27 ...
  S     7  14  21  28 ...


  May

  S   ...   6  13  20  27
  M   ...   7  14  21  28
  Tu    1   8  15  22  29
  W     2   9  16  23  30
  Th    3  10  17  24  31
  F     4  11  18  25 ...
  S     5  12  19  26 ...


  June

  S   ...   3  10  17  24 ...
  M   ...   4  11  18  25 ...
  Tu  ...   5  12  19  26 ...
  W   ...   6  13  20  27 ...
  Th  ...   7  14  21  28 ...
  F     1   8  15  22  29 ...
  S     2   9  16  23  30 ...


  July

  S     1   8  15  22  29
  M     2   9  16  23  30
  Tu    3  10  17  24  31
  W     4  11  18  25 ...
  Th    5  12  19  26 ...
  F     6  13  20  27 ...
  S     7  14  21  28 ...


  August

  S   ...   5  12  19  26
  M   ...   6  13  20  27
  Tu  ...   7  14  21  28
  W     1   8  15  22  29
  Th    2   9  16  23  30
  F     3  10  17  24  31
  S     4  11  18  25 ...


  September

  S   ...   2   9  16  23  30
  M   ...   3  10  17  24 ...
  Tu  ...   4  11  18  25 ...
  W   ...   5  12  19  26 ...
  Th  ...   6  13  20  27 ...
  F   ...   7  14  21  28 ...
  S     1   8  15  22  29 ...


  October

  S   ...   7  14  21  28
  M     1   8  15  22  29
  Tu    2   9  16  23  30
  W     3  10  17  24  31
  Th    4  11  18  25 ...
  F     5  12  19  26 ...
  S     6  13  20  27 ...


  November

  S   ...   4  11  18  25
  M   ...   5  12  19  26
  Tu  ...   6  13  20  27
  W   ...   7  14  21  28
  Th    1   8  15  22  29
  F     2   9  16  23  30
  S     3  10  17  24 ...


  December

  S   ...   2   9  16  23  30
  M   ...   3  10  17  24  31
  Tu  ...   4  11  18  25 ...
  W   ...   5  12  19  26 ...
  Th  ...   6  13  20  27 ...
  F   ...   7  14  21  28 ...
  S     1   8  15  22  29 ...

       *       *       *       *       *

AFTER THE WAR: THE WAR-WORK HABIT.

[Illustration: LADY GREEN-PARKER (LATE PLATOON-COMMANDER IN A WOMAN'S
VOLUNTEER CORPS) STARTS HER GARDENERS AT WORK FOR THE DAY.]

[Illustration: MRS. BROMPTON RHODES (WHO HAS BEEN WORKING ON THE LAND)
FINDS IT IMPOSSIBLE TO ARRANGE THE FLOWERS ON HER DINING-TABLE WITHOUT
DONNING HER SMOCK AND CORDUROYS.]

[Illustration: LADY ALBERT HALL (FORMERLY A RED-CROSS AMBULANCE
DRIVER) DEALS WITH A BREAK-DOWN OF HER CAR IN BOND STREET.]

[Illustration: THE HON. MRS. KENSINGTON GORE (ONCE A MUNITION-WORKER)
IS INFORMED THAT SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH THE TAP OF HER SCULLERY
SINK.]

       *       *       *       *       *

AFTER THE WAR: THE WAR-WORK HABIT.

[Illustration: THE DUCHESS OF PIMLICO (WHO USED TO ENTERTAIN
CONVALESCENT SOLDIERS AT HER COUNTRY SEATS) GIVES A GARDEN PARTY AT
PIMLICO HOUSE, BELGRAVIA.]

[Illustration: THE COUNTESS OF KNIGHTSBRIDGE AND HER CHARMING
DAUGHTERS (WHO HAVE ALL BEEN WORKING IN CANTEENS) CANNOT AT ONCE
ACCUSTOM THEMSELVES TO THE ORDINARY AMENITIES OF AFTERNOON "AT
HOMES."]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Sergeant-Major_ (_who has the professional mind_).
"HE'S A GOOD MAN IN THE TRENCHES, SIR, AND A GOOD MAN IN A SCRAP, SIR;
BUT YOU'LL NEVER MAKE A SOLDIER OF HIM."]

[Illustration: _Sergeant-Major_ (_to nervous gunner who has got mixed
up with drag-rope_). "WHAT WERE YOU BEFORE YOU JOINED THE ARMY? A
SNAKE-CHARMER?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: HOME-MADE MUNITIONS.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "HEAVENS, SERGEANT, WHAT'S THIS?"

"THAT JOKE OF MINE, YOU KNOW--WHEN I ASK A RECRUIT WHO'S BEEN THROWN,
'WHO THE DEVIL ASKED YOU TO DISMOUNT, SIR?' WELL, HERE'S ONE OF THE
PAPERS SAYS IT'S THE OLDEST WHEEZE IN THE WORLD!"]

[Illustration: WHY NOT V.A.D. SECTION OF VIVANDIÈRES AT OUR
THEATRE-BARS TO RENDER FIRST AID TO ANY RECKLESS YOUTH WHO HAS THE
TEMERITY TO TAKE A THEATER WHISKY?]

       *       *       *       *       *

A FALSE ALARM.

[Illustration: "CALL ME AT SEVEN SHARP."]

BOOM!

BANG!

CRASH!

"OH, ZEPPS?"

"I WAS AFRAID IT WAS TIME TO GET UP!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE COMPLETE FILM ACTOR.

[Illustration: "ARE YOU A GOOD PUGILIST?"]

Mr. Percy Garrick Smithers, actor, finding the path to fame less
smooth on the legitimate stage than he believed it to be by the Cinema
route, went to a producer of film plays and offered his services.

"Yes," said the producer, "I might possibly give you lead in a big
sensational I am about to put up. Are you a good pugilist?"

"I have indulged a little in the pastime of sparring," answered Percy.

"Good," said the producer. "You see, the picture opens with Bill
Bloodred, the champion prize-fighter, demanding certain documents from
his aged uncle. As the latter won't surrender the papers. Bill gives
him a swinging blow to the jaw, a few more heavy ones to various other
parts of the body, and then proceeds to kick the old man to death as
the latter lies helpless on the floor. It's one of those thrilling
scenes the juveniles like so much! Then _you_ come in and tackle
Bill."

"Quite so," said Percy.

"A terrific fight ensues. Bill surpasses anything he has ever done
in the ring, and it goes on until at last you collapse. Bill escapes,
leaving you for dead. Do you catch the idea?"

"Pretty well," said Percy.

[Illustration: "IT IS YOURSELF _VERSUS_ THE POLICE."]

"Now Bill goes straight away to the police office and states that
you have murdered his uncle. When you come to, you are surrounded by
about twenty members of the police force, the chief of whom slips the
handcuffs over your wrists. With one wrench you snap the chain and are
free!"

"With _one_ wrench?" asked Percy, to be sure he was getting the
details correctly.

"With one wrench. Then ensues another big struggle. This time it is
yourself _versus_ the police."

"The twenty?"

"Quite right. After some time you show signs of weakening, and the
police look like getting the upper hand."

"Ah!" remarked Percy.

"But just then Mignon, the old man's daughter, emerges from behind
a screen. She tells the police the facts and proclaims your absolute
innocence."

"Good!" said Percy.

[Illustration: "YOU ARE SEEN FALLING, FALLING, FALLING."]

"The chief of the police thereupon shakes you by the hand and
apologises. You indicate that it will now be your life's work to bring
the assassin, Bill, to justice, and then you quit. I should mention
that before leaving you fall in love with Mignon, and promise that
on your return you'll marry her at once. That parting scene will
want a bit of acting. Your countenance must show successive degrees
of pain, as if you had eaten something that was disagreeing with
your digestion; and you mustn't omit the most effective suffering
expression of all--chin raised, mouth open, eyelids closed
tightly--just as if you were about to sneeze. You'll find your
experience on the stage quite useful, you know."

"Oh, quite, quite," agreed Percy.

"Now you are out in the street. You seize the first motor-car at
hand, and start off on the grand hunt after Bill. Through the crowded
streets, out into the country highway, you fly at a terrific speed.
Up the mountain passes you race, down precipitous slopes with
every-increasing momentum. Every moment, it seems, will be your last.
But you come safely through."

"Certainly," said Percy.

"That is to say--almost. Unfortunately, in turning a sharp corner, the
car plunges into the waters of a rapid mountain torrent!"

"Dear, dear!" said Percy.

"But you come safely through--"

Percy heaved a sigh of relief.

[Illustration: "YOU FOLLOW HIM."]

"You are seen falling, falling, falling, still in your car, with the
descending cataract. Over and over you are turned in the seething
waters, dashed against rocks, hurled through ravines, and finally you
are given a sheer drop down a perpendicular waterfall of three hundred
feet. Out of the white foam formed in the bed of the waters you emerge
swimming strongly hand over hand, until at last you reach the broad
waters of the placid river, and finally the shore. Here you notice a
train passing some little distance away, and in it, gazing out of one
of the windows, you observe--Bill, the murderer! You at once start in
pursuit; by a superb effort you catch up the train, and just succeed
in swinging yourself safely on board. You can do a little sprinting, I
suppose?"

"I could give an ordinary train a bit of a start, no doubt," said
Percy with confidence.

"Just so," pursued the producer. "And now you find yourself
confronting the miscreant, Bill. The train is passing through a city.
It is on the elevated railway. Bill makes a dash for the door, springs
out, and lands on the roof of a house. You follow him--your leap being
considerably greater, because between his jump and yours the train has
proceeded a certain distance."

"Precisely," said Percy.

"Now there is a scramble over the roof-tops. You climb up pipes, slide
down slates, leap across spaces between separate houses, cling to
coping stones, and all that sort of thing."

"I grasp the idea," said Percy.

[Illustration: "HE CUTS THE WIRES ON WHICH YOU ARE CROSSING."]

"At last Bill is seized with a notion. He throws himself on to the
telephone wires, and, hanging by his hands, manages to convey himself
across to the houses on the opposite side of the road. You imitate
him. As Bill arrives on the other side, he turns and cuts the wires
on which you are crossing. Before the ends of the wires fall, however,
you turn a quick somersault and land beside Bill. Once more there is
a race over the roofs until Bill reaches a factory chimney. Down the
shaft he dives. So do you. Into the furnace below, then out of it, the
chase continues--it doesn't pause for a moment."

"Not a moment," echoed Percy as in a trance.

[Illustration: "THE LAST SCENE OF ALL WILL BE YOUR WEDDING."]

"Yes, it does, for you and Bill have dragged out of the furnace some
of the burning coal; this has caught some inflammable material, and
soon the whole factory is alight. Now you rush round to alarm the
workers. And what do you find? Mignon! She had gone out into the world
to earn her own bread, and had found employment in this factory. The
manager of the factory, an arch villain, had noted Mignon's beauty,
and just as you arrive he is dragging her away. You snatch Mignon
from his grasp. At that moment Bill comes up, takes in the situation,
seizes the treacherous manager, and flings him into the devouring
flames. Then Bill assists you to carry Mignon through the suffocating
smoke out to safety, but as you disappear the now dying manager draws
his revolver and fires after you. You are struck by the bullet,
but bear up until, with Bill's help, you have brought Mignon out of
danger. Then you faint away."

"Not till then?" said Percy.

"No, not till then. The last scene of all will be your wedding at the
church. Mignon, of course, is the bride, and Bill is your best man.
You see, he retrieved his character by the aid given at the factory
fire, and you have forgiven him the murder of his uncle. Oh, and, by
the way, you wouldn't have to be _really_ shot at the rehearsals, you
know."

"That's fine!" said Percy. "When would you like me to start?"

"A week from now."

"Good. That will give me a nice opportunity to get fit, and to have
one last good time in case any unforeseen mishap should occur in the
course of rehearsal. Of course I see no reason whatever to anticipate
any accident, but they have been known to happen under circumstances
even more commonplace, if that were possible."

       *       *       *       *       *

THE EVICTION OF AN ENEMY IN OUR MIDST.

[Illustration: BRITISH MATRON, IN A SPASM OF PATRIOTISM, DECIDES
TO GET RID OF HER GERMAN PIANO. MESSRS. DUGOUT AND CO. UNDERTAKE TO
REMOVE IT.]

[Illustration: "NOW, THEN, WHEN I SES, 'TO ME!'"]

[Illustration: "TO ME!"]

THE EVICTION OF AN ENEMY IN OUR MIDST.

[Illustration: "TO _YOU_! _FROM_ ME!"]

[Illustration: THE SPIRIT OF FRIGHTFULNESS ACTIVE TO THE VERY END.]

[Illustration: PEACE--AT A PRICE.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: MESOPOTAMIA.

_Tommy_ (_to Padre, who has been telling him about the Scriptural
associations connected with the country_). "SUPPOSED TO BE THE GARDEN
OF EDEN, IS IT, SIR? WELL, IT WOULDN'T TAKE NO FLAMIN' SWORD TO KEEP
_ME_ OUT OF IT."]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE TRUCE--AND AFTER.

    [Lines alleged to have been recently found on the back of
    a miniature target (of which only the bull's-eye was
    perforated), and believed to be the work of a private in the
    County of London Volunteer Regiment.]

[Illustration]

  This year at ease on Ben Macquhair
    Couches a certain stag;
  Fearless he sniffs his native air
  Because he knows I can't be there
    To scare him off his crag.

  This year his instinct (true, though dumb)
    Tells him by subtle signs
  No bullet loosed by me shall come
  Shattering earth below his tum
    Or whistling through his tines.

  Yet little knows he why the hill
    Misses my wonted feet,
  Or how I've learned a lethal skill
  At mimic butts that bodes him ill
    When next I stalk his beat.

  I trow that he would swoon for fright
    Upon the purple ling
  To know that in a decent light
  I'd undertake the death, at sight,
    Of any living thing.

  O not for nothing do I grow
    Efficient, eye and hand,
  Schooling myself to strike a blow
  In home defence against a foe
    That never means to land.

  Some fruit of toil there yet shall be
    For this poor volunteer;
  When War's abatement sets him free
  From bloodless duties, I foresee
    A deadly time for deer!

O.S.

       *       *       *       *       *

MR. PUNCH'S UNAUTHORISED WAR PICTURES.

FIRST SERIES. AT THE FRONT.

[Illustration: GENERAL LLOYD GEORGE, WAR LORD.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: MR. WINSTON CHURCHILL (JOURNALIST) GIVES THE HUN
ANOTHER SHOCK.]

       *       *       *       *       *

AT THE FRONT.

[Illustration: MR. ARNOLD BENNETT AND MR. H.G. WELLS (_rival
bookmakers--together_). "WHAT'S THIS FELLOW DOING HERE?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Mr. Hilaire Belloc_. "THIS TRENCH IS WRONG. IT DOESN'T
AGREE WITH MY MAP."]

       *       *       *       *       *

AT THE FRONT.

[Illustration: SIR ARTHUR WING PINERO TAKES A TRIP ON A TANK TO SEE
HOW HOUSES ARE BROUGHT DOWN.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: SUSPENSION OF HOSTILITIES TO ALLOW SIR HERBERT TREE TO
THROW OFF A FEW SOLILOQUIES FROM _HAMLET_.]

       *       *       *       *       *

AT THE FRONT.

[Illustration: LORD NORTHCLIFFE DICTATES AN ARTICLE FOR _THE TIMES_.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: MR. WOODROW WILSON (WITH MASCOT) TRIES TO FIND A
SYMPATHETIC SOUL.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: Mr. PUNCH'S NATIONAL SERVICE FOR ALL.

It is not implied that the above are at present out of War Work--but
Mr. Punch is very anxious to see everybody's natural gifts employed to
the best advantage.]

[Illustration: LITTLE TICH proves of the greatest assistance to the
Field Telegraph Service

MR. HORATIO BOTTOMLEY contents himself with the post of Advisory
Instructor to the Prime Minister.

MR. BERNARD SHAW, with supreme self-denial, consents to acts as a
Scarecrow on the Land.

CHARLIE CHAPLIN devotes his energies to recruiting.

MLLE. GABY DESLYS turns her taste in millinery to account.

LORD HALSBURY joins the Boy Scouts.]

       *       *       *       *       *

SECOND SERIES. IN FRONT OF THE FRONT.

SOME OF THE ENEMY'S UNFULFILLED ANTICIPATIONS.

[Illustration: WILLIAM IN BAGHDAD.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: FRANCIS-JOSEPH IN VENICE.]

       *       *       *       *       *

IN FRONT OF THE FRONT.

[Illustration: THE CROWN PRINCE IN PARIS. A LITTLE VISIT TO THE
LOUVRE.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: BETHMANN-HOLLWEG OCCUPIES NO. 10, DOWNING STREET.
WELCOME BY TEUTON VIRGINS ARRANGED BY WOLFF, PRESS AGENT.]

       *       *       *       *       *

IN FRONT OF THE FRONT.

[Illustration: HINDENBURG IN THE NEVA-NEVA LAND.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: RICHARD STRAUSS CONDUCTS THE "HYMN OF HATE" AT THE
ALBERT HALL.]

       *       *       *       *       *

IN FRONT OF THE FRONT.

[Illustration: COUNT ZEPPELIN TAKES THE SURRENDER OF LONDON.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: TIRPITZ UP THE THAMES.]

       *       *       *       *       *

FASHIONS IN THE NEW GERMANY.

    [Dr. EUGEN WOLFF has contributed to the _Illustrirte Zeitung_
    an article on "How we are to order our External Life in
    the New Germany," from which we cull the following selected
    passages.]

[Illustration: "LET OUR WOMEN WHO LOOK TO PARIS FOR THEIR FASHIONS,]

[Illustration: OUR MEN WHO LOOK TO LONDON, REMEMBER THAT--]

[Illustration: OUR PHYSICAL FORM IS NOT THAT OF THE ENGLISH AND
FRENCH."]

[Illustration: "GERMAN CLOTHES AFTER THE WAR MUST BE MODELLED ON SOME
PARTICULAR NATIONAL COSTUME NOTED FOR ITS EASE AND BEAUTY."]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Uncle_. "WELL, MY BOY, WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOU WERE
IN A BATTLE WITH ME? FOLLOW ME--OR RUN AWAY?"

_Nephew_ (_carried away by martial enthusiasm and prepared to
undertake anything_). "BOTH, UNCLE."]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Military Policeman_. "WHO ARE YOU?"

_Muddy Tommy_. "THEY CALLS ME--_CALLS_ ME, MIND YER--A BLANKETY
LANCER!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

HYGIEIA AND THE CHEMIST.

[Illustration: IDEAL ADVERTISEMENT OF A SUFFERER FROM INDIGESTION
ABOUT TO IMBIBE A PATENT REMEDY.]

[Illustration: THE SAME SUBJECT FROM LIFE.]

       *       *       *       *       *

A ROYAL FOUR-BALL MATCH.

ST. HELENA GOLF COURSE.

[Illustration: MEHMED OF TURKEY DRIVES OFF FROM THE FIRST TEE.]

Like the enemy, Mr. Punch also has projected himself "in front of the
front," and, in a moment of prophetic inspiration, anticipated the
following account, from the pen of his Special Correspondent, of a
_post-bellum_ competition on the St. Helena links:--

"The life of our royal captives in the internment camp at St. Helena
is the subject of a report from the Governor of the Island, which was
issued last night as a Purple Paper. The Governor, after dealing with
general matters, writes:--

[Illustration: CROWN PRINCE "THROWS BAG OF CLUBS AFTER THE BALL."

'In the interests of health I have permitted the less exalted members
of the camp to lay out a small golf course within the enclosed area,
and yesterday the links were declared open, the ceremony taking the
form of a four-ball competition, in which the German CROWN PRINCE was
partnered with FRANCIS-JOSEPH of Austria against FERDINAND of Bulgaria
and MEHMED of Turkey. Although present at the proceedings I feel that
I cannot do better than include in my report an account of the contest
which appeared in _The St. Helena Sentinel_.'"

Extract from _St. Helena Sentinel_:--

"_Internment Camp, 3 p.m._--CROWN PRINCE, who plays slashing reckless
game, takes honour at first hole (Liége to Loos), hooks at right
angles, dents two spectators, and ends up in Aisne Bunker. FERDINAND
(canny, cautious type of player) hits a wind-cheating screamer
which finished fully forty yards from the tee. Critics differ as to
FRANCIS-JOSEPH's shot, and it is still a moot point whether he had a
species of fit or was simply trying to follow through. When restored
to perpendicular was found to have ball deeply embedded in his person.
Disqualified for handling. MEHMED (a left-hander; uses clubs with
scimitar-shaped shafts) puts his drive over short slip into the
club-house kitchen. C.P., after converting Aisne Bunker into mine
crater, picks up. M., hopelessly bunkered in the Irish Stew, also
picks up. F. holes out in a stealthy nineteen. Bulgar-Turk Combine one
up.

_2nd Hole_ (_Ypres Salient--120 yards pitch_).--FRANCIS-JOSEPH,
strongly urged by Czech backers to use his foot instead of his clubs,
heels out in seventeen and squares the match. (Sensation.)

_3rd hole_ (_Czernowitch to Brest-Litowski_).--CROWN PRINCE, taking
the Przaritczow-Blokhod-Strypovitchi line, puts long-range shot into
the Pripet Marches. MEHMED, after undermining greater part of the
Bukowina, reports progress from the tee. FRANCIS-JOSEPH, reverting
to clubs, misses tee-shot twenty-four times and retires exhausted to
bath-chair. FERDIE's wind-cheater, badly sliced, trickles into the
Warsaw whins and is lost. C.P., arrived at edge of Pripet Marshes,
drops another ball, tops it into hazard, throws bag of clubs after it,
and sends for another set. Hole abandoned, M. having taken thirty-nine
shots and a life-line to get out of the Blokhod Swamp.

[Illustration: "FIRST-HAND EXHIBITION OF FRIGHTFULNESS."]

_4th Hole_ (_Kilimanjaro to Tanganyika_).--CROWN PRINCE drives out of
bounds twelve times, gives away second set of clubs and sends for
a third. FRANCIS-JOSEPH, attempting the Smuts Smash from edge
of Usambara Bunker, over-balances into hazard and is partially
suffocated. FERDINAND is disqualified for pushing on the green. MEHMED
holes his tee shot. (Uproar.) Orientals one up.

_5th Hole_ (_Douaumont to Verdun--long heart-breaking test of
golf_.)--CROWN PRINCE gives first-hand exhibition of frightfulness and
cuts down caddy with a niblick, the miserable fellow having coughed
as C.P. was about to drive. MEHMED, who is now taking a larger size in
fezzes by reason of performance at last tee, puts eight new balls into
the Meuse Burn and gives up. FRANCIS-JOSEPH, still too full of sand
to play hole, awaits arrival of vacuum-cleaner. FERDINAND, after twice
exploiting the Big Push brassie shot, is suspended for cutting the
cloth. C.P. abandons hole (or what is left of it) after missing
two-inch putt.

5_p.m._--Match all square at the turn. Exhaustive search now being
made for MEHMED, who was last seen (and heard) seeking his ball in the
Mametz Wood. Ominous silence for past five minutes. Grave reason to
fear that he has cut down entire wood upon himself.

5.30 _p.m._--MEHMED rescued from _débris_ but will take no further
part in contest, following match on a stretcher. FRANCIS-JOSEPH now
shows signs of extreme exhaustion and plays all shots from bath-chair.
FERDINAND, who asserts himself a match for both his opponents, won
tenth hole (Helles Hell--hundred-yards carry over dense undergrowth)
with brassie shot that ricochetted off five spectators and two trees,
finishing up three inches from the pin. By careful putting he got down
in two more. CROWN PRINCE has just thrown away third set of clubs.

[Illustration: "A BRILLIANT RUN-THROUGH CANNON."]

6 _p.m._--FRANCIS-JOSEPH has retired. Can no longer swing a club, and
has booked bed in camp hospital. CROWN PRINCE still awaiting fresh set
of clubs. Will now play FERDINAND a single.

6.15 _p.m._--FERDINAND, who has been granted permission to cue on the
greens, has just won eleventh hole by a brilliant run-through cannon
off CROWN PRINCE's ball.

6.30 _p.m._--FERDINAND has retired.

7.10 _p.m._--FERDINAND has retired about two miles. Cause of
withdrawal occurred on fourteenth green, when F. mis-cued and blamed
CROWN PRINCE's shadow. C.P., in his frightfulness, struck F. savagely
in the face with a baffy and threw F.'s rubber tee into Salonika Pond.
When F. remonstrated, C.P. took the offensive and F. was forced to
yield ground. When last seen was yielding ground rapidly and in danger
of having his lines of communication cut.

[Illustration: "TAKING A LARGER SIZE IN FEZZES."]

7.50 _p.m._--CROWN PRINCE to continue _solus_. Going out for record of
the course.

8.10 _p.m._--Record abandoned, CROWN PRINCE having thrown away or
broken every available club in the St. Helena Sector."

_Governor's report_ (_resumed_).--"In the not too sanguine hope
that my prisoners will one day grasp the meaning of the term
'Sportsmanship,' I have given my consent to the holding of a
cricket-match at an early date. I am reliably informed that in
HINDENBURG the Austro-German XI. has a remarkable bowler of the googly
order. On some of the Riga grounds, when two feet in mud, he was quite
unplayable. FERDINAND, who will captain the other side, is very fast
for several overs, though his action is not above suspicion. Great
efforts are being made to get FRANCIS-JOSEPH to keep wicket. I trust
to include an account of the match in a subsequent report."

       *       *       *       *       *

  There was an old Tsar of Bulgaria
  Who climbed like a climbing wistaria;
      He spread and he spread
      Till he had to be bled
  With a view to reducing his area.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE "FORTRESS" OF LONDON.

(AS PICTURED BY TEUTON IMAGINATION.)

[Illustration]

[Illustration: THE CHURCH MILITANT.]

[Illustration: LETTING OFF A SAMUEL JOHNSON.]

[Illustration: A DOG'S-HOME GUN-TEAM.]

[Illustration: THE ROYAL ZOOLOGICAL ARTILLERY.]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE "FORTRESS" OF LONDON.

(AS PICTURED BY TEUTON IMAGINATION.)

[Illustration: A CITY TEA SHOP BEFORE THE ALARM.]

[Illustration: THE SAME AFTER THE ALARM.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE MUSIC-HALL MANAGER'S DREAM.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "WHEN THE BOYS COME HOME."

PEACE DAYS IN PICCADILLY.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Excited Tommy_ (_as the gun gets into position_).
"'ERE, BACK 'ER DOWN A BIT. SHE'S ON MY FAG!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE FALSE INCOME-TAX RETURN--]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: --AND ITS RECTIFICATION.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration]