Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, July 29, 1914

Excerpt

July 29th, 1914.

A warrant has been issued for the arrest of Signor Ulvi, the inventor of “F” rays. He is said to have eloped from Florence with an Admiral’s daughter. This was not discovered until Signor Ulvi had got well away, and his claim to be able to cause explosions at a distance would now seem to be established.

General Huerta is said to have taken with him on his flight securities to the amount of £1,200,000. Even so it is typical of the grasping nature of the man that he complained of having to leave Mexico City behind.

A storm of indignation has been raised in Berlin by an order (instigated, it is said, in a very high quarter) that all cafés must close at 2 A.M. A petition is being circulated which points out that this order will kill Berlin’s tourist traffic, “as the night life of the city is the only attraction for visitors.” This implication that a certain exalted personage is not among the local attractions seems to us to amount almost to lèse-majesté.

When Lieutenant Porte’s water-plane, “The America,” refused to rise, he should have tried changing its name to “The South America.”

The Buckinghamshire Territorials, under their new commandant, Colonel Wethered, are going in for chorus-singing practice. This is a good idea. Sung badly enough, these choruses should prove a valuable weapon against a musical foe, such as the Germans.

Owing to an outbreak of mumps at Harrow School the summer term has had to close some days earlier than usual. It is characteristic of the generous nature of the Harrow boys that, in spite of this annoying interruption of their studies, there has been very little open expression of resentment against those who introduced the ailment.

Coventry’s annual Lady Godiva procession took place last week, and was a success. It is feared, however, that with the advance of fashion the principal character—who on this occasion was attired in pink fleshings draped with white chiffon—will be voted overdressed and so fail to attract.

“To be well booted,” says The Times, “is to feel well dressed, at the top of one’s power and joy.” A small boy, however, who was well booted by a larger boy the other day admits that he received a good dressing, but holds that, apart from this, The Times was misinformed.

The announcement that in the course of excavations on the site of the old General Post Office in St. Martin’s-le-Grand, some old Roman tile stamps have been discovered, has caused, we hear, a profound sensation in philatelic circles.

Exceptionally rough weather is reported from the Bay of Biscay, and it is said that on a certain passenger vessel even the valet of a well-known nobleman was ill, although he was an old retainer.

“Fishing with rod and line from a boat in the Downs at Deal,” says The Daily Mail, “Lord Herschell and a friend caught 600 fish on Sunday. The fish, mostly pouting, were hauled in three and four at a time.” We suspect they were pouting to show their annoyance at having their Sabbath rest disturbed.