Vanity Fair (UK), October 20, 1904
[See attribution note on Vanity Fair menu page]
 

In the Stocks.
 

GERMANS may sneer at England, but they are not above imitating our methods. The first Jewish peer has just been nominated by the Kaiser.

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In spite of what one hears of Russian mismanagement, the troops in Manchuria are apparently well enough off financially. Early this week General Kuropatkin received another check, and acknowledged it.

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It is curious that a paper should refer to the wrongful imprisonment of a York baker, who was mistaken for another man, as “a remarkable case.” Nowadays, the remarkable case is that in which the prisoner has positively no “double,” and is actually guilty of the offence charged against him.

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Abraham Brennan, bailiff, ever enthusiastic in the performance of his duties, rushed blithely round to a Streatham flat to serve a writ. Did his hostess thank him? No. She was cold in her demeanour. Did she offer him a glass of sherry? On the contrary, she “winded” him (we quote the report in a daily paper), chased him round the table with a sword, and threatened to blow his brains out—not with a sword, but with a pistol, which happened to be part of her equipment. “Oh, woman,” murmured Abraham to himself, as he dodged the glistening point, “When pain and anguish rack the brow, a ministering angel thou!” In future he means to serve writs on bachelors only.

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Rejected by the Italian Army authorities as “not strong enough for military service,” a man found time hang somewhat heavy on his hands. So the poor weakling is now filling it in by walking round the world at the rate of fifty miles a day.

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LAISSEZ FAIRE.

(The East-End has officially announced that the Rev. R. J. Campbell’s strictures “do not matter.”)

A careless, calm, contented knave,
 A man who does not wince, as some might,
When people beg him to behave—
 Such is the modern slummite.
The holy man shows up his sins:
 He speaks his mind. He scorns to flatter.
The slummite drains his beer, and grins:
 “It doesn’t matter.”

He takes his glass, he reads no tracts,
 He looks askance at those who’ve sent ’em—
He strives, like Horace, in his acts
Æquam servare mentem.
The parson sneers, the parson pleads
 (Sometimes the one, anon the latter);
One single answer he concedes:
 “It doesn’t matter.”

’Twas ever thus: the candid friend
 Never appealed to Alf or ’Erry:
The dwellers in the Far East-End
 Scorn checks when making merry.
Reproof they steadfastly repel;
 When critics at their customs batter,
They bid those critics go to ——well,
 It doesn’t matter.

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A competition for the best list of the hundred worst books has been instituted by an American journal. It is pleasant to see that American literature is at last receiving proper recognition.

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“The only fear,” says a critic of Mr. Pinero’s play, “is that it may be a thought too recondite for the average playgoer. The first-night audience is different from audiences that follow—more on the alert, more appreciative.” After all, a deadhead has to do something to justify his presence. The mere worm who pays for his seat can afford to be less “on the alert and appreciative.”

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There is an association at Simla whose object it is to encourage thrift. To popularise the movement, the promoters recently arranged a sweep on the St. Leger. We agree with a critic that the idea is “distinctly novel and precious.”

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There is no concealing anything from some people. They have got to know. In the correspondence column of a Sheffield paper we note the following answer to an enquirer:—“J. C. T. (Walkley).—Yes. Liverpool is a seaport.” The man has suspected it all along! One can imagine his self-satisfied chuckle when he pinned the editor down to that plain, definite admission.

•   •   •   •   •

A gleam of hope has shot through Russian bosoms at the news that General Oyama has taken to smoking cigarettes. There is just a chance that it may have a bad effect on his brain in twenty years or so. It is something for them to look forward to.

Rasper. 


 

Printed unsigned in Vanity Fair; entered by Wodehouse as “In the Stocks” for this date in Money Received for Literary Work. It is possible that not all individual items are by Wodehouse.

 

 

Notes:
For more on the Rev. R. J. Campbell, see Wikipedia, especially the 'Controversy' section.
Æquam servare mentem: to preserve a calm mind