Punch, or the London Charivari | Page 2

to give to the nation and to humanity all the coal
they required. If he thought that this scheme was intended to or would
give the miners an advantage at the expense of the State he would
oppose it."--_Mr. BRACE, in the House of Commons._]
Though Comrade SMILLIE keeps a private passion That yearns to see
Sinn Fein upon its own, Clearly we cannot put our Unions' cash on
Men with a motto like "OURSELVES ALONE;" To us all folk are
brothers And on our bunting runs the rede, "FOR OTHERS."
Our hearts are ever with the poor consumer; We long to give his sky a
touch of blue; To doubt this fact is to commit a bloomer, To falsify our
record, misconstrue The ends we struggle for, As illustrated in the
recent War.
We struck from time to time, but not at Cæsar, Not to secure the
highest pay we could; Our loyalty kept gushing like a geyser; We had
for single aim the common good; Who treads the path of duty May well
ignore the cry of "_Et tu, Brute!_"
Humanity's the cause for which we labour; The hope that spurs us on to
do our best Is "O that I may truly serve my neighbour, And prove the
love that burns within my breast, And save his precious soul By a
reduction in the cost of coal!"
Nationalize the mines, and there will follow More zeal (if possible) in
him that delves; Our eager altruists will simply wallow In work
pursued for others (not themselves), Thrilled with the noble thought--

"My Country's all to me and Class is naught!"
O.S.
* * * * *
A STORY WITH A POINT.
(_With Mr. Punch's apologies for not having sent it on to "The
Spectator."_)
Geoffrey has an Irish terrier that he swears by. I don't mean by this that
he invokes it when he becomes portentous, but he is always annoying
me with tales, usually untruthful, of the wonderful things this dog has
done.
Now I have a pointer, Leopold, who really is a marvellous animal, and
I work off tales of his doings on Geoffrey when he is more than usually
unbearable.
Until a day or two ago we were about level.
Although Geoffrey knows far more dog stories than I do, and has what
must be a unique memory, I have a very fair power of invention, and by
working this gift to its utmost capacity I have usually been able to keep
pace with him.
As I said, the score up to a few days ago was about even; yesterday,
however, was a red-letter day and I scored an overwhelming victory.
Bear with me while I tell you the whole story.
I was struggling through the porridge of a late breakfast when Geoffrey
strolled in. I gave him a cigarette and went on eating. He wandered
round the room in a restless sort of way and I could see he was thinking
out an ending for his latest lie. I was well away with the toast and
marmalade when he started.
"You know that dog of mine, Rupert? Well, yesterday--"

I let him talk; I could afford to be generous this morning. He had
hashed up an old story of how this regrettable hound of his had saved
the household from being burnt to death in their beds the night before.
I did not listen very attentively, but I gathered it had smelt smoke, and,
going into the dining-room, had found the place on fire and had
promptly gone round to the police-station.
When he had finished I got up and lit a pipe.
"Not one of your best, Geoffrey, I'm afraid--not so good, for instance,
as that one about the coastguard and the sea-gulls; still, I could see you
were trying. Now I'll tell you about Leopold's extraordinary acuteness
yesterday afternoon.
"We--he and I--were out on the parade, taking a little gentle after-
luncheon exercise, when I saw him suddenly stop and start to point at a
man sitting on one of the benches a hundred yards in front of us; but
not in his usual rigid fashion; he seemed to be puzzled and uncertain
whether, after all, he wasn't making a mistake."
Here Geoffrey was unable to contain himself, as I knew he would be.
"Lord! That chestnut! You went and asked the man his name and he
told you that it was Partridge."
"No," I said, "you are wrong, Geoffrey; his name, on inquiry, proved to
be Quail. But that was only half the problem solved. Why, I thought,
should Leopold have been so puzzled? And then an idea struck me. I
went back to the man on the bench and, with renewed apologies, asked
him if he would mind telling me how he