Page:Punch Vol 148.djvu/152

The Blockade. A fair warning.

In these troublous times Cinemaland is about the only foreign country in which it is possible to travel for pleasure. It has occurred to me that some account of its curious manners and customs may not be without interest for such readers as are still unacquainted with them.

As Cinemaland contains many departments, each of which has peculiarities of its own, I cannot attempt more than a general description.

The chief national industry is the chase of fugitives. In some departments this is done on horseback, with a considerable and rather aimless expenditure of ammunition; in others by motor car, or along the roofs of railway carriages. It seems a healthy pursuit and provides all concerned with exercise and excitement. The women are, almost without exception, young and extremely prepossessing. Nature has endowed them, among other personal advantages, with superb teeth, of which they make a pardonably ostentatious display on the slightest provocation. They are all magnificent horsewomen and fearless swimmers, and they do not in the least mind spoiling their clothes.

In their domestic circles, however, they show a feminine and clinging disposition, with a marked tendency to fall in love at first sight with any undesirable stranger.

The principal occupation of the children is reconciling estranged parents by contracting serious illnesses or getting run over. The latter is even easier to manage in Cinemaland than in any London thoroughfare. I have seldom, if ever, seen an aged Cinemian grandparent, a long-lost wife, or a strayed child try to cross the emptiest street without being immediately bowled over by a motorcar. The mere wind of it has the strange potency not only of knocking down a pedestrian, but inflicting the gravest internal injuries. Fortunately, Cinemaland is a country rich in coincidences, so the car is invariably occupied by the very person who has been vainly seeking the sufferer for years. This of course is some compensation, but, all the same, it is hardly the ideal method of running across people one is anxious to meet.

The victims are always removed to the nearest hospital, but, if I may judge from what I have seen of their wards, I should say that medical science in Cinemaland is still in its infancy, and it has never surprised me that so many patients die soon after admission.

But then Science of any kind seems to be a dangerous and unprofitable occupation there. The inventor, designer, or discoverer of anything is simply asking for trouble. If he doesn't blow himself up in his laboratory and get blinded for life, some envious rival is certain to undertake this for him. Or else a vague villain will steal his formula or plans and sell them to a Foreign Power with Dundreary whiskers. And the extraordinary part of it is that no Cinemian has ever invented anything yet of which the secret could possibly be worth more more than twopence. I fancy the stealing must be done from sheer wanton devilry.

Crime in Cinemaland is invariably detected sooner or later, though I doubt if it would be but for a careless practice among criminals there of carrying in their breast-pockets the document that proves their guilt. They seem to have a superstitious idea that to destroy it would bring them bad luck.

The exterior of a private mansion in a fashionable Cinemian suburb is stately and imposing, but the interior is generally disappointing, the rooms being small and overcrowded with furniture that is showy without being distinguished. In some houses the owners appear to have a taste for collecting antiques and to have been grossly imposed upon by dealers.

It is usual for young couples with a very moderate income to keep not only a smart parlour-maid but a butler as well. The manner of all Cinemian domestics is one of exaggerated deference; an ordinary English employer would be painfully embarrassed if his servants bowed to him so low and so often, but they appear to like it in Cinemaland.

Social etiquette there has exigencies that are all its own. For example, a guest at an evening party who happens to lose a brooch or necklace is expected at once to stop the festivities by complaining to her hostess and insisting on a constable being called in to search everybody present. It might be thought that Cinemian Society would have learnt by this time that the person in whose possession the missing article is discovered is absolutely sure to be innocent. But the supposed culprit is always hauled off (with quite unnecessary violence) to prison, amidst the scorn and reprobation of the hostess and her other guests. It is true they make the handsomest amends afterwards, which are gratefully accepted, but in any other country the hostess's next invitation to any social function would be met with the plea of a previous engagement. If these amiable and impulsive people have a failing, I should say it was a readiness to believe the worst of one another on evidence which would not hang an earwig.

They are indefatigable letter-writers, but, after having had the privilege of inspecting numerous examples of their correspondence, I am compelled to own that, while their penmanship is bold and legible, their epistolary style is apt to be a trifle crude.

The clergy of Cinemaland all wear short side whiskers and are a despised and servile class who appear to derive most of their professional income from marrying runaway couples in back parlours.

In certain departments it is a frequent practice to dress up in Federal and Confederate uniforms and engage in desperate conflict. I have witnessed battles there with over a hundred combatants on each side. There was a profusion of flags and white smoke on these occasions, but, so far as I was able to observe, no blood was actually shed. There is another department which is inhabited by a