Page:Punch Vol 148.djvu/345
Old Gentleman (discussing man in father corner). But surely, though he hasn't enlisted, he's doing his bit somehow―National Defence, perhaps?―or Special Constable?"
Companion. "The blighter don't do nothing, I tell yer. Nothing! Don't even pull down the winder blinds!
MORE WORK FOR WOMEN.
[It is suggested that one reason for the German hate is the beauty of English girls compared with the maidens of the Fatherland.]
Cousin of mine, whose dainty frame
Too frailly fashioned is to break
A lance in her dear name?
Your hands are weary, you declare,
Of knitting khaki pedal wear.
And take your stand against the foe;
There's envy in that heart of yours
Each time that you bestow
That most encouraging of boons,
The gladsome eye on light dragoons.
Annoyed by your intrinsic might,
Send him your photograph (the one
In which you're wearing white);
Its advent in the trench, dear child,
Would surely drive the beggars wild.
We understand from the news in the daily papers that the distinguished Roumanian, Mr. Take Jonescu, has been urging the Roumanians to join the Allies. Isn't it about time they took Jones' cue?
PRICES AS USUAL.
"Everything is dearer!" shs said, flinging the butcher's book from her.
"Not everything," said her husband gently, while preparing himself to meet a possible demand for an increase in the allowance for housekeeping.
"I don't mean tobacco; I am speaking of necessaries," she replied. "At the grocer's, the baker's, the fruiterer's, the butcher's―wherever you go it's the same; and it has come to this, Rowland, that it is impossible for me to manage———"
"Have you tried Tomkinson's Stores?" he asked.
"That smelly place with a post-office behind the cheeses? No, thank you! And, anyhow, their prices are sure to have gone up like everybody else's."
"They are not all up, my dear; you must try to be less sweeping in your statements. As a matter of fact I looked in at Tomkinson's on my way home and found them quite reasonable."
"Rowland! Do not tell me that the chocolates you buy me about twice a year come from that horrible shop."
"I am sorry, Nora, but I did not buy chocolates; July the 19th, you must remember, is the next date for chocolates."
"Then what could you want to get at Tomkinson's? One thing is certain, if you ask me to eat any of it we shall quarrel. What did you buy?"
Rowland felt in several pockets, his wife watching him closely. At the end he produced a packet of post-cards.
Help!
Under the heading of "Literary Help" this Answer to a Correspondent appeared recently in T.P.'s Weekly:―
"H. L. G. (Bristol).―Your three songs are as good (perhaps a little better) than (sic) many efforts of the kind. You don't attempt to say anything beyond the commonplace, but it is something to achieve the sentimental commonplace without falling into pathos (sic)."
The Literary Helper's estimate of the relative values of "sentimental commonplace" and "pathos" is at least as good as his grammar.
"Sergeant Tisdale received a bullet in the log."―The Observer.
We have always thought it inadvisable for a soldier to keep a log. It is really sailors' work.