Mr. Punch on the Warpath Part 7

"Well?" said the general.

"Yes, it _is_ a well, a well of natural petroleum, in fact, which I have discovered not half-a-mile away!"

The general clasped his hand, while the army roared themselves hoa.r.s.e with delight. And, an hour later, only a faint flicker of dust on the horizon showed where the expedition was scurrying towards the doomed enemy.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE PENALTY OF FAME

_Small Boy_ (_with shrill voice_).

"'Fightin'--with--the Sev'nth--Royal Fu-siliers-- The famous Fu-siliers-- The fightin' Fu-siliers,'" &c., &c.

_Irritable War-Office Clerk._ "Con-found the Seventh Royal Fusiliers!

I'm sick of 'em! Blest if I don't pack 'em off to the Channel Islands!"

[_Does so._

[Ill.u.s.tration: A CASE OF TU QUOQUE.--_She._ "How do you like my new hat?"

_Sutherland Highlander._ "By Jove, what extraordinary headgear you women do wear!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THAT TYRANT MAN.

_Thomas the Drummer._ "Well, Emmar, you needn't take on so. I loves you stright enough; but 'angin' round the barrick gates, askin' for me, is the sort of thing I will not 'ave!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: MORE REFORMS WANTED.

_Guardsman._ "I just told one of those Volunteer officers that he must _not_ come on parade with his pockets unb.u.t.toned, and the fellow had the demmed impudence to say he was sorry he couldn't oblige me, but his corps hadn't b.u.t.tons!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Riding Master._ "I thought you said you could ride?"

_Candidate for the Imperial Yeomanry._ "Ye-yes. But you don't get arf a chance 'ere, the corners are so bloomin' sharp!"]

THE MILITARY COOKERY-BOOK

_How to make a Recruit._--Take a raw lad from the country (the younger the better) and fill his head with military froth. Add a shilling and as much beer as will be covered by the bounty-money. Let him simmer, and serve him up thick before a magistrate the next morning. Let him be sworn in, and he will then be nicely done.

_How to make a Soldier._--Take your recruit, and thrust him roughly into a depot. Mix him up well with recruits from other regiments until he has lost any _esprit de corps_ which may have been floating upon the surface when he enlisted. Now let him lie idle for a few years until his strength is exhausted, and then, at ten minutes' notice, pack him off to India.

_Another Method._--Take your recruit, and place him at headquarters. Let him mix freely with all the bad characters that have been carefully kept in the regiment, until his nature has become a.s.similated to theirs. For three years pay him rather less than a ploughboy's wages, and make him work harder than a costermonger's donkey. Your soldier having now reached perfection, you will turn him out of the service with economical dressing.

_How to make a Deserter._--A very simple and popular dish. Take a soldier, see that he is perfectly free from any mark by which he may be identified, and fill his head with grievances. Now add a little opportunity, and you have, or, rather, you have not, your deserter.

_Another and Simpler Method._--Take a recruit, without inquiring into his antecedents. Give him his kit and bounty-money and close your eyes.

The same recruit may be used for this dish (which will be found to be a fine military hash) any number of times.

_How to make an Army._--Take a few scores of infantry regiments and carefully proceed to under-man them. Add some troopers without horses and some batteries without guns. Throw in a number of unattached generals, and serve up the whole with a plentiful supply of control mixture.

_Another and easier Method._--Get a little ink, a pen, and a sheet of paper. Now dip your pen in the ink, and with it trace figures upon your sheet of paper. The accompaniment to this dish is usually hot water.

_How to make a Panic._--Take one or two influential newspapers in the dead season of the year, and fill them with smartly written letters. Add a few pointed leading articles, and pull your army into pieces. Let the whole simmer until the opening of Parliament. This once popular mess is now found to be rather insipid, unless it is produced nicely garnished with plenty of Continental sauce, mixed with just an idea of invasion relish. With these zests, however, it is always found to be toothsome, although extremely expensive.

STRIKE OF SEAMEN.--There is one description of strike in which we hope our sailors will never engage--that of their colours.

A LAND SWELL.--A Lord of the Admiralty.

THE REVIEW AT SPITHEAD.--It is wonderful that this affair was not a sad mistake; for there is no doubt that the reviewers were all at sea.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SO SYMPATHETIC! _Young Yeomanry Officer_ (_airing his exploits in the war_). "And among other things, don't you know, I had a horse shot under me."

_Fair Ignoramus._ "Poor thing! What was the matter with it?"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: DISAGREEABLE TRUTH

_Soldier._ "Now, then! You must move away from here."

_Rude Boy._ "Ah! But _you_ mustn't, old feller!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: EUPHEMISTIC.

_Colonel._ "I've never met with a smarter drill than yourself, sergeant, or one more thoroughly up to all his duties; but you've one most objectionable habit, and that is your constant use of bad language, and swearing at the men."

_Sergeant._ "Sir, perhaps I am a little sarcashtic!"]