ON THE WAR IN THE EAST.
(By a Western Wonderer.)
All in the East seems so dawdling and queer!
Bogus engagements, and battles pour rire,
Militant meetings—where nobody meets—
Ghostly armies and phantom fleets;
"Terrible slaughter"—with never a blow,
Corpse-choked rivers that maps do not show;
Wild contradiction and vagueness extreme,
Faith, it all reads like some Flowery Land dream,
Arabian-nightish, and opium-bred,
Japanese-spookish, delirium-fed,
Wild, willow-patternish; sort of a "War"
Johnny might paint on a blue ginger-jar.
Wonder how long such a queer war will wag on?
No one can tell—when 'tis Dragon v. Dragon!
THANKS TO THE "BYSTANDER."
I am glad to see the "Bystander" in the Graphic has recently uttered a startled protest against the fashion, now somewhat overdone, and occasionally objectionably done, of lady-begging for charitable purposes in the London streets. On the sudden apparition of one of these merry half-sisters of charity (were not the Pecksniffian daughters Charity and Merry?) Mr. Ashby Sterry became well-nigh hysterrycal, and his generosity being temporarily paralysed, he fled, with pockets tightly buttoned. For the moment he was no longer the "Bystander," whose motto is that of Captain Cuttle, "Stand by," but, as though he had heard the command to "Stand and deliver," our sturdy "Bystander" became a fugitive from before the face of the giddy charity girl, and thus at one "go" saved his halfpence and his honour. For his reputation would have suffered had he impolitely rebuffed his fair unfair assailant. He did well to flee, he did still better to write and publicly complain. We trust that this process adopted by the Sterry O'Type (a fine old Irish title by the way) may have its due influence, and that the abuse, which has become thus Sterry O'Typed, of a fashion good in itself and its origin, may soon cease to exist. En attendant, Mr. Punch is pleased to know that the "Bystander" is still running on, and not likely to come to a standstill.
A ST. LEGER COINCIDENCE.
Dear Mr. Punch,—Will you afford me a small portion of your space to put on record once and for ever a most extraordinary coincidence? Last Wednesday afternoon I was taking a country walk, when all at once my eye was suddenly caught by a throstle. At the same time I accidentally looked at my watch. It had stopped at 12.10. When I got home I mentioned both of these circumstances to my wife.