VIENNA-BOUND: A REVERIE EN ROUTE.
[A Wireless Press telegram says: "The German Imperial train has reached Constantinople in order to transport the Sultan to Vienna, to take part in the conference of Sovereigns to be held there.">[
I hate all trains and told them so;
I said that I should much prefer
(Being, as Allah knows, no traveller)
To stick to Stamboul and the status quo.
They said, "If you would rather walk,
Pray do so; it will save the fare;"
Which shows that WILLIAM (who will take the Chair)
Insists that I shall come and hear him talk.
I've never tried a train before;
It makes me sick; it knocks my nerves;
The noises and the tunnels and the curves
Add a new horror to the woes of war.
What am I here for, anyhow?
I'm summoned for appearance' sake,
To nod approval at the Chief, but take
No further part in his one-man pow-wow.
My job is just to sit, it seems,
And act the silent super's rôle,
The while I wish myself, with all my soul,
Safe back in one or more of my hareems.
I'd let the Conference go hang;
Any who likes can have my pew
And play at peace-talk with this pirate crew,
WILLIAM and KARL and FERDIE—what a gang!
Our Chairman wants to save his skin
And (curse this train!) to cook a plan
For Germany to pouch what spoils she can—
All very nice; but where do I come in?
At best I'm but the missing link
Upon his Berlin-Baghdad line;
This is the senior partner's show, not mine;
Will he consult my feelings? I don't think.
If Russia's gain should mean my loss,
He'll wince at Teuton schemes cut short,
But for my grief, expelled from my own Porte,
Will he care greatly? Not one little toss.
Well, as I've said and said again,
'Tis Fate (Kismet), and, should it frown,
We Faithful have to take it lying down—
And yet, by Allah, how I loathe this train!
O. S.
"A subaltern friend of mine landed at Gibraltar for a few hours, and he was anxious to be able to say that he had been to Spain. So he walked along the Isthmus to Ceuta, where the British and Spanish sentries faced one another, and directly the Spanish soldier turned his head he hopped quickly over into Spain. Then the sentry turned round, and he hopped back again even more quickly."—Daily Sketch.
Those of our readers who have walked from the Gibraltar frontier to Morocco and back, like the above subaltern, know that it takes some doing.
"JAMES PHILLIPS, 16, was charged with doing damage to the extent of £4 10s. at a refreshment shop in Hackney belonging to Peter Persico. As he was kept waiting a little time he broke a plate on the table; then he put a saucer under his heel and broke it. When remonstrated with he broke 10 cups and saucers by throwing them at partitions and enamelled decorations, and overturned a marble table, the top of which he smashed."—The Times.
No doubt he was incited to these naughty deeds by the line, very popular in Hackney circles, "Persico's odi, puer, apparatus."