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    Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, September 23, 1914
    Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, September 23, 1914
    Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, September 23, 1914
    Ebook98 pages50 minutes

    Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, September 23, 1914

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 26, 2013
    Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, September 23, 1914

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      Book preview

      Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, September 23, 1914 - Archive Classics

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 147,

      September 23, 1914, by Various

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

      Title: Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, September 23, 1914

      Author: Various

      Release Date: January 26, 2009 [EBook #27893]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***

      Produced by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer and the Online

      Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

      PUNCH,

      OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

      VOLUME. 147.

      September 23, 1914.

      THE ALIEN

      Chorus. Boo! 'oo kissed 'er 'and to the Kaiser larst time 'e come over? Yar! Bloomin' German!

      CHARIVARIA.

      The Kaiser, we are told, travels with an asbestos hut. We fancy, however, that it is not during his lifetime that the most pressing need for a fire-proof shelter will arise.

      The Germans, said one of our experts last week, are retreating to what looks like a bottle-neck exit. Their fondness for the bottle is, of course, well known and may yet be their undoing.

      The Times, one day, gave a map showing The Line of Battle in Champagne. It was, as might have been expected, a very wobbly line.

      A somewhat illiterate correspondent writes to say that he considers that the French ought to have allowed the Mad Dog to retain Looneyville.

      The German papers publish the statement that a Breslau merchant has offered 30,000 marks to the German soldier who, weapon in hand, shall be the first to place his feet on British soil. By a characteristic piece of sharp practice the reward, it will be noted, is offered to the man personally and would not be payable to his next of kin.

      With one exception all goods hitherto manufactured in Germany can be made just as well here. The exception is Lies.

      We have been requested to deny the rumour that Mr. A. C. Benson's forthcoming Christmas book is to be a Eulogy of German Culture and is to bear the title, Some Broken Panes From a College Window (in Louvain).

      A Corps of Artists for Home Defence is being formed, and the painter members are said to be longing for a brush with the enemy.

      Cases have been brought to our notice by racing men of betting news having been delayed on more than one occasion owing to the wires being required for war purposes. We are confident that if a protest were made to Lord Kitchener he would look very closely into the matter.

      Another item reaches us from the dear old village of Pufflecombe this week. The oldest inhabitant met a stranger. 'Scuse me, Zur, he said, but be you from Lunnon town? The visitor nodded. Then maybe, Zur, said the rustic, you can tell me if it be true, as I have heerd tell, that relations 'tween England and Germany be strained?

      If every man and woman in the country were mated, the number of men who would still remain bachelors would more than equal the entire population.—Daily News.

      The Press Bureau cannot guarantee the truth of this.

      Germans on board, who were arrested, stated that reports circulated in Hamburg declared that the British troops had been annihilated and Paris was in flames.

      Sixty-two British ships lie at Hamburg.

      They must have caught it from the Germans.

      PROBATION.

      (To a King's Recruit.)

      Now is your time of trial, now

      When into dusk the glamour pales

      And the first glow of passion fails

      That lit your eyes and flushed your brow

      In that great moment when you made your vow.

      The Vision fades; you scarce recall

      The sudden swelling of the heart,

      The swift resolve to have your part

      In this the noblest quest of all

      By which our word is given to stand or fall.

      Your mother's pride, your comrades' praise—

      All that romance that seemed so fair

      Grows dim, and you are left to bear

      The prose of duty's sombre ways

      And labour of the long unlovely days.

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