Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 153, September 5, 1917
Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 153, September 5, 1917
Various
Gutenberg Edition
목차
The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 153, Sept. 5, 1917, by Various, Edited by Owen Seamen
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
Vol. 153.
September 5, 1917.
CHARIVARIA.
Doctor. "YOUR THROAT IS IN A VERY BAD STATE. HAVE YOU EVER TRIED GARGLING WITH SALT WATER?"
Skipper. "Yus, I'VE BEEN TORPEDOED SIX TIMES."
A War Bargain.
ONE STAR.
THE FOUNTAIN.
"LIBRARY NOTES.
"KEEP THE HOME FIRES BURNING."
SOLO BY OUR OPTIMISTIC PREMIER.
THE MUD LARKS.
First unhappy Passenger. "OH, I SAY, CAN'T WE GO BACK NOW?" Boatman. "NOT YET, SIR. THE GENTLEMAN IN THE BOWS INSISTS ON 'AVING 'IS SIXPENNORTH."
Sergeant (in charge of the raw material). "NOW, NUMBER TWO, WE'LL HAVE THAT MOVEMENT ONCE AGAIN. DON'T FORGET THIS TIME—NECK LIKE A SWAN, FEET LIKE A FAIRY."
HEART-TO-HEART TALKS.
(Herr MICHAELIS: Marshal VON HINDENBURG.)
LINES TO A HUN AIRMAN,
WHO AROUSED THE DETACHMENT ON A CHILLY MORNING, AT 2.30 A.M.
GLIMPSES OF THE FUTURE.
Maid. "MR. JONES, SIR—HIM WOT KILLED SEVENTEEN GERMANS IN ONE TRENCH WITH HIS OWN 'ANDS—'AS CALLED FOR THE GAS ACCOUNT, SIR."
THE LITTLE MATCH-GIRL.
(With apologies to the shade of HANS ANDERSEN.)
Our Helpful Press.
Colonel (asked to review V.A.D. Corps, and not wishing to spring an order on them). "NOW, I'M GOING TO ASK YOU LADIES TO FORM FOURS."
THE PASSING OF THE COD'S HEAD.
(A Romance of Chiswick Mall.)
LIBERATORS.
VENIZELOS to KERENSKY. "DO NOT DESPAIR. I TOO WENT THROUGH SUFFERING BEFORE ACHIEVING UNITY."
WAR-TIME WALKS.
LINES ON RE-READING "BLEAK HOUSE."
"WHAT PEOPLE SAY.
"ESCAPED GERMAN FLYING MEN.
AT THE PLAY.
"THE INVISIBLE FOE."
Servant (on hearing air-raid warning). "I SHALL STAND HERE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE 'ALL, MUM, SO THAT IF A BOMB COMES IN AT THE FRONT-DOOR WE CAN GO OUT AT THE BACK."
PLAYING THE GAME.
Bank Cashier (gazing at golden orb of day). "IT'S A REAL HOLIDAY TO WATCH THESE SUNSETS—AFTER ALL THE PAPER MONEY."
The Huns at Home.
PRESERVING THEIR PROSPECTS.
Farmer. "YOU'LL NOT BE FEELING GIDDY, SURR?"
R.F.C. Officer (on leave). "NOT TILL WE REACH TEN THOUSAND FEET."
THE CONVERT.
AN ADAMLESS EDEN.
OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
(By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.)
Another Impending Apology.
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