Issue: 417 / December - Charterhouse | World War I Memorial

THE
Carthusian jCiterarg Supplement
North Wales
Physical Jerks
Banco
Lines written OH the Sixth Form Classroom
The Grandfather Clock
Old Clothes and Me
Science Jottings of a Non-Scientist
Bric-a-Brac
Voces Carthusianae
Aggereggeriggerogger
The Incorrigible ...
Ballad of Benjamin Crocker
Fantasy
Diary of a Delicate Worker
Music
Come for a tramp on this bleak northern shore
And listen to the breakers' deafening roar ;
Let the winds whirl your hair and fire your eyes
While rain falls headlong from the lowering skies.
Here Thor and Odin clothed in murky shrouds
Hurl all together and enrage the clouds ;
Once more the giants strive to hurtle down
From off the Victor's head his golden crown,
And piling crag on crag attempt in vain
To scale high heaven in the fiery rain.
But lo ! a sudden change ; the thunders cease
And to the stormy landscape enters Peace.
The clouds disperse, the sun reveals his face
And with his radiance clears a widening space ;
While southern blues the blackened sky adorn,
And happiness into the world is born.
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With sparkling eyes and glowing face
I eagerly rush to the well-known place
As though I were running a relay race.
Hurrah for physical jerks !
Our exercises we begin,
My face is suffused with a gleeful grin
As my trunk heaves round and my legs shoot in.
Hurrah for physical jerks!
Terrible tortures I have to bear,
I shoot to the sky with my feet in the air,
Jumping about, now here, now there.
Hurrah for physical jerks!
I lie on my tummy, my face on the ground:
I raise up my legs and kick 'em around:
Then up I leap with a panther-like bound:
Hurrah for physical jerks !
I hop like a frog, I fly like a bird:
My antics no doubt to you seem absurb :
But I love it, I love it, I give you my word,
Hurrah for physical jerks !
" Stride jumping with arms raising sideways." What glee !
I out tarzan Tarzan. Why not even he
Could do it more smartly or quicker than me !
Hurrah for physical jerks !
I rush round Hall with the speed of a train,
Round Stinks Block and C Block, and then hack again :
My legs are of iron : I feel not the strain.
Hurrah for physical jerks !
My arms I shoot out with such vigour and force,
Like the rush of a bull or the kick of a horse:
If you're anywhere near you get murdered of course.
Hurrah for physical jerks !
"jFace bend, neck raise, hips sideways fling."
" How now, that man ! Must get more swing ! "
I did. But then a button—ping 1
Hurrah for physical jerks !
Physical jerks, physical jerks,
Hurrah for physical jerks !
As soon as the O.C. clock chimes out,
Up I jump with a joyful shout:
Before the master can let us out
I'm off to physical jerks!
I trot and I gallop, I hop and I run,
But the stroke of the clock puts an end to the fun,
And my physical jerks for the morning are done.
Farewell physical jerks!
X.Y.Z.
DECEMBER, 1920.]
THE
CARTHUSIAN.
A Sketch.
" Your turn to take Banco to-night, Wethered."
The new monitor put on a sickly smile of assent.
He had been expecting the moment ever since he had
been informed by his house-master, at the end of last
quarter, that he was to he made a monitor. He was
a tall, thin scholar, with spectacles and a watch-chain,
and would never have reached this position had it not
been for his position in the Sixth.
There were still five minutes to go before the halfhour, and they dragged intolerably. It was quiet
enough in Hall, the monitors' sanctum, but next door
was his own particular h—1, Long Room it was called,
where Banco was to be done.
Wethered took a book from his shelf, hoping against
hope that it would be quiet enough for him to do some
work there, as was possible for his more seasoned
colleagues. But it was not yet time ; the clock only
pointed to 7.28 p.m , and there were still two weary
minutes to go. fie listlessly turned over the pages of
a picture paper, then walked up and down the room,
followed by six pairs of critical eyes, belonging to the
other monitors, who did not approve of their housemaster's choice. Again he looked at the clock. Ah !
The big clock outside struck the half-hour. He
must go.
With a miserable attempt at a whistle, he walked
out of the room and down the short stretch of passage
to Long Room. He knew well enough what he had
to do. He must open the door, shout "stop talking"—
this w.is the recognized formula—then slam the door,
and walk into the middle of the room and answer
questions, give fellows permission to get books which
they may have forgotten, or to do work with someone
else in their own form for the first half-hour, during
which time they were allowed to engage in legitimate
conversation on their work.
But, somehow, everything went wrong. In the
steady conversation of the roomful of fellows, his entry
was not observed. His throat was dry, and his voice
did not seem to carry, and he forgot to slam the door.
For a moment he stood in the doorway quite lost.
Then he was observed. There was a sudden silence.
The boys wanted to see which way he would jump.
A second, and they had sized him up. He was easy
prey. From that moment onwards his fate was sealed.
At once people got up from their seats ; not waiting,
as they should, for Wethered to come round and
answer their questions, they surged round him :—
"May I."—"Please Wethered." — " Oh, I say."
55
Volleys of questions were fired at him. Permissions
to leave the room, to work with other people, to go
and get books from their lockers. At first he
endeavoured to keep up his miserable shreds of dignity,
but he failed. He got confused by the swarms of
people round him, saw others out of the tail of his eye
coming up also, and said, " Yes, Yes, Yes," to all
requests, hoping to get a breathing space, and a
chance of pulling things together again.
He had, however, only made things worse. He at
once discovered that there were at least half-a-dozen
knots of fellows all talking loudly, to whom he had
given permission, unwittingly, to work together, and
the scraps of conversation he could catch had nothing
to do with work whatsoever. The rule was, that only
two could work together, and when he pulled together
enough courage to approach one of these knots, he
could do nothing ; they were all very polite, but all
of them argued. There was an immediate hush in
the rest of the room, while poor Wethered's weak
voice was heard expostulating. At last, realizing that
to argue was fatal, and to forbid them was impossible,
he weakly consented to let them go on " working " if
they promised to keep quiet. They all shouted that
they would, while everyone laughed. Wethered was
now suffering the tortures^of the damned ; he had still
over an hour of this to endure that evening, and, in
addition, a long vista of hateful evenings opened out
before him, when he would again have to take
" Banco." At that moment a "new bug," as the new
boys were politely known there, dropped a book with
a loud crash on the floor. Wethered spun round, saw
that here at least was something he was able to cope
with, hurried up and said : " You d
d little
nuisance, do me five hundred lines by to-morrow
night." At once there was a chorus of '' Oh ! I say,"
and Wethered's face went pink with impotent annoyance, as he walked hurriedly away. A minute later,
a swarthy boy of sixteen or so got up from his seat,
and, holding a dead carnation between thumb and
forefinger, walked unflinchingly up to Wethered and
preferred the posy to him, amid loud and appreciative
titters. The latter took it up mechanically, thinking
that it had been lying on the floor, and that
Gonsalvo had picked it up and was asking if he should
put it in the waste-paper basket near him. Then he
suddenly realised the invidious nature of the whole
affair and blushed a deep crimson, and then said feebly,
" Go and sit down." Everyone howled with glee.
Things were now warming up, as the miserable
Wethered could see only too well. Paper pellets
began flicking round the room, someone started humming, books were dropped with suspicious frequency
56
THE CARTHUSIAN.
all round the room. Wethered turned a dirty white ;
he could do no work; he could only look on and occasionally remonstrate feebly : " Oh ! I say you fellows, can't
you make less noise ? " if something unusually loud
had occurred, and all the time he was hoping against
hope that the noise would not reach the ears of the
monitors. He knew that he would be scorned by
them, ridiculed by the fags, and laughed at by the
whole school.
He had absurd, fleeting ideas of singling out one
of the ring-leaders, say Gousalvo, and offering to fight
him, or of rushing headlong at the crowd on the end
table. He wondered if he should send out a fag to
Hall to ask if one of the other monitors would relieve
him as he was not feeling well. He had nearly
decided on this, when his eye fell on the paper pellets
and other debris that lay scattered all over the floor,
and thought this would give him away only too
blatantly, and all the time a loud buzz of conversation,
though it was long after the half-hour allowed, filled
the room. He realised he was a failure. He wondered
vaguely how other new monitors had ever got on.
But then, he remembered, they were good at games
and respected by the fellows for it, whereas he was
useless at them. He had been made a monitor, firstly,
because there was no one else, and, secondly, because he
was in the Sixth, and had already been passed over so
often that the house-master thought he must make
amends to Wethered during his last quarter.
Wethered sat down by the fire and tried to immerse
himself in his book, having now finally given up as
useless all attempts to curb the noise; and, indeed,
the conversation began to die down ; there was more
mischief afoot, he felt it. At last there was a
stir at the end of the table, and Gonsalvo and Fredericks, another husky, came up, suspiciously meek, each
carrying a book in his hand. Wethered eyed them
cautiously, he decided to do battle. " What do you
want now ? " he said, with a glint in his eye. Oh !
please Wethered," said Gonsalvo, " may I change this
book for another in my locker ? I really want to do
some work now, and I'm sorry for the noise I've been
making." Wethered did not believe him, but thought
it wise to accede. Gonsalvo walked down to his locker
by the door, but was immediately obscured from view
by Fredericks, who produced a Caesar, and asked
Wethered to translate a phrase which he (Fredericks)
found jolly difficult. Again Wethered couldn't refuse.
Then there was a sudden hush. Wethered's voice
droned on, then an instantaneous click and the room
was flooded in darkness. The lights had gone out.
Somebody yelled "they're fused," and then pan-
[DECIMBER, 1920.
demonium reigned. Books and inkpots were thrown,
benches upset, fellows shouted, stamped their feet and
sang. Wethered cowered, a shrunken, white figure,
deathly pale and with closed eyes, against the wall,
just visible in the light of the small fire at the end of
the room. It was all over . . . . Then, after what
seemed centuries, though in reality it was only a. few
seconds, a resolute step was heard outside. The door
opened, the lights switched on, and Westmacott, the
head monitor, a great healthy athletic dunce, strode
in and roared " What on earth are you doing ? Sit
down all of you." Everybody obeyed. There was a
guilty silence. They had had their dance, they must
now pay the piper. They knew their master. "Where's
Wethered ? " he roared again, and then caught sight
of the pathetic figure, quivering in the corner. " Why
the devil didn't you stop them ? " he said, more quietly.
The answer was plain. "Well, iinyway, I'll take
over for the last twenty minutes," he continued, "you
can go back to Hall."
Wethered walked unsteadily to the door. Everyone
looked at him with subdued amusement.
gins* wvttteit otf t\js
Long years ago, as some still know,
This room was a Museum,
With crocodiles and Roman tiles
For those who wished to see 'em.
At last, we're told, the room would hold
No more unusual trifles ;
With martial din the Corps came in
And stacked the walls with rifles.
At first so few, the Corps soon grew ;
Another change was wrought there;
Desk took the place of rifle-case ;
Latin and Greek were taught there.
Perhaps some day, when old and grey,
We'll halt before that door,
And sadly see " Tea 1/3,
Light luncheon 2/4."
J.G.
DECEMBEE, 1920.]
THE
CARTHUSIAN.
(Elicit.
A single lamp is sputtering in the dim oak panelled hall;
The aged clock is muttering in his place upon the wall,
" A year, a day "—
He seems to say—
" May pass away,
May pass away,
But I must stay."
Outside the bats are flitting and the night is thick and weird;
The clock erectly setting keeps a-mumbling in his beard
" For time to come
You'll hear my hum,
Till you become,
Till you become,
All dead and dumb."
" 0 clock, what do you presage ? Must you tick on and on ?
Deliver up your message before we too are gone!
Help us, sweet clock,
So stiff and stock,
Ere death shall knock,
Ere death shall knock,
And force the lock ! "
In silence for a season I sweat, my breath comes fast,
And then I see the reason : the clock has ticked his last.
His soul has fled,
His life has sped,
His heart of lead,
His heart of lead
Is dead ! Is dead !!
J.G.
Old Clothes loves walking. There isn't any particular reason why he shouldn't love walking, but 1
don't see why he should drag other people out with
him just for that reason, when they don't. Besides,
he will go into the most absurd places you ever saw;
he hates keeping to what he calls " the beaten track "
—I suppose he only means the road—and I don't
think a mad bull would stop him from going through
a gate if it was marked " Private." So of course he
is always getting himself into trouble, and when he
gets himself into trouble he gets the other fellow into
trouble too, and that's usually me, and its a shame
because its always his fault! Hut I was going to tell
you about the scrape he got us into our first Sunday
at Charterhouse, all through his blessed walking. It
turned out all right in the end, but we were frightfully lucky, and I don't know what would have hap-
57
' pened to us if we hadn't met the old gentleman in
the wood. But I'm spoiling the story.
Well, directly after lunch on the Sunday I told
you about, up came Old Clothes and said, '' Let's go
for a walk," before I had even had time to digest the
stewed apples, and he didn't give me time to say
anything but marched me straight off before I could
stop him. Of course I could have stopped him really,
you know, but I only said that to show you how
quickly it all happened ; and besides I thought he
only meant a short one, so I said I would come. Anyway we started off, and hud gone quite a long way
when I suddenly realized we had forgotten our hats,
and hit Old Clothes quite hard on the back, which made
him jump, and ask me what the something I thought I
was doing; so I told him if he didn't know I'd do it
again, and then he said " Funny ass ! " and told me
I'd interrupted his reverie. Well, I didn't know
what that meant;, so I said "Rats!" and he said
| " Mice ! " like fellows do when they try to be f u n n y ;
and then when I didn't laugh he said what did we
want hats for, aiid I said " To take off to masters,"
and then he said quite a lot of other things, bnt it
was no good, and so back we went.
The second time we got quite a long way and had
I been talking about all sorts of things when suddenly
I thought of something and stopped. Then Old
Clothes stopped too, and said, "Now what's the
matter ? " and I saw him put his hand up to his head
to see if he had forgotten his hat again, which made
me laugh so much that I couldn't speak, till he got
annoyed and punched me in the wind, after which I
| couldn't even laugh. When I did manage to speak,
j I told him what I thought of him, which was several
things, but he didn't seem to mind, so I gave it up.
Then he said what had I stopped for, and I said,
"Have you any idea where you're going?" So he
said no, and didn't I realize that when one went for
a walk one's whole idea should be not to know where
one was going? fSo I asked him what about when
two went for a walk, and he said, "Ass! ' When you
I go for a walk,' if you like " ; and then I asked him
what about him, and he said, "Funny ass!" again,
which was the second time he had said it that afternoon. I didn't say anything more, because Old
Clothes was much cleverer than me, and he ought to
know what he was doing.
So we went on, through lots of fields and hedges
and things till I began to think it must be getting
rather late, and I said, " Hadn't we better start going
back ?" But he said that was quite all right, we
were working round in a circle, and would soon find
58
THE CARTHUSIAN.
ourselves back at the school again, so I didn't say any
more, but only thought. Well, we didn't seem to get
anywhere in spite of all he said, and when I asked
him again he didn't seem quite so sure about it as he
had been before. So I said, " What about it ? " and
then he said suddenly, " Why, look, aren't those towers
on the hill there ours, just the other side of this
wood ? We've only got to get to the other side of
these trees and we're there," and he got so bucked at
his own cleverness that he jumped over the fence and
started running hard up the pathway, and I had to go
quite fast to keep him in sight.
But just as I was catching him up, all of a sudden
his foot caught in something, and he fell flatter on his
face than I have ever seen anybody fall before. Well,
I just sat down and couldn't do anything for laughing;
after a bit I said, " Are you hurt ?" and he just
grunted, so I laughed some more, and said perhaps he
knew what it was like to be hit in the wind now, and
he grunted again, and I was just going to laugh still
more when someone said ''Humph ! " behind me very
loudly, which made me look round instead. And
there stood a great tall man with a gun and a white
moustache and a feather in his hat, and I was going
to say something when he said, " And what the blazes
are you doing here, heh ?" So I said, " Nothing," which
wasn't true, and he said, " Nothing ? Then what the
blazes did you come in at all for ? Didn't you see the
notice, heh?" And I said I hadn't seen the notice
heh, and anyway I hadn't been to notices since
Saturday, which I though was rather funny ; but I
don't think he saw the point, because he just said,
" Come along, both of you," so off we had to go, and
we were both of us rather frightened, though Old
Clothes pretended he wasn't.
Well, he led us on through the wood, telling us
quite a lot of things about it—that it was his, and
didn't we know it was private, and we ought to know
better, and he kept on saying " Heh !" till Old
Clothes said to me in a whisper that he must have
got heh fever, which made me laugh quite suddenly,
so that I had to pretend it was a sneeze. All the
same I was still feeling very afraid and wondering
what he was going to do with us when suddenly we
came out of the wood and on to a lawn, and there
before us stood the towers that Old Clothes had
thought belonged to Charterhouse; but they didn't,
after all, they were fastened on to a lovely great house
instead, with the most beautiful gardens all round it.
The big man brought us up to the front door, and
then turned round and said, " What d'you think I
ought to do with you, heh ? " And we said we didn't
[DlCKMBER,
1920.
know, and all of a sudden he smiled and said, " Well,
you must come in and have some tea." And he took
us straight inside and gave us the most lovely tea we
had had since Old Clothes' baby sister was christened !
Well, we were awfully suprised, and we discovered
that the old man was awfully nice after all, and so
was his wife and Molly and Joan, his two daughters,
especially his daughters, and we had great fun after
tea. Of course we had told him all about ourselves
by this time, and he laughed lots when he heard how
we had thought his house was Charterhouse, and told
us that we were a good six miles away, which quite
flabbergasted Old Clothes. Then suddenly we thought
of adsum, and we got quite unhappy about it till the
old man laughed and told us not to worry, he'd see
to that, as he was an O.C. himself and knew our
housemaster. So we cheered up again and went round
to see the garden with Molly and Joan, and enjoyed
ourselves no end, till the old man said it was time to
go at last : and he actually took us all the way back
in a huge great car, which I said was much nicer than
walking, / thought. On the way Old Clothes told me
that the car was a Rolls, and I wanted to say " What
about the butter? " only I didn't.
We got back in good time for evening chapel, and
I think the man must have told our housemaster all
about it, as we never got ticked off at all. And we
think that we were awfully lucky, because Old Clothes
says if it hadn't been for the old man we should have
got into an awful row. Now I say Old Clothes
deserves to have, but he doesn't agree with me, which
is sheer obstinacy.
T.
J
jotting* of a $Um(A_s collected from once-a-week lectures.)
With thy sweet bloom illumine us,
White clover, make us cheerier ;
Come, all ye plants leguminous,
Embalmed in your bacteria,
Which on your roots, as on a stalk a rose is,
Bring you sweet nitrogen, in symbiosis.
*
*
*
*
Would'st thou know the process Haber?
(French pronounced). Take tubes of rubber,
Fix a pot of no small measure,
Add a pinch of mighty pressure,
Throw in test-tubes, stir it well,
Bunsen-heat likefiresin Hell 'Tis done ! In triumph now may'st thou what in this is
Proclaim to all : " Ammonia in synthesis ! "
THE CARTHUSIAN.
DECEMBER, 1920.]
Acetylene burning with air
Gives a very bright flame, I declare;
It in technical process
Mr. Wilson, you know, says
Is widely in use, as it were.
#
*
#
*
In iron manufacturee
Do they let waste gas go free,
Sailing up the chimenee ?
No ! What you must learn is
How they've managed now with treMendous skill and energee
To turn it back into a reGenerative furnace!
#
#
59
And when the team victorious is
(It isn't often), choruses
Of praise are heaped upon them :
An extra half we always get,
No banco for a week is set:
The sixth sigh " 0 quam bonum! "
But when defeat befalls our bloods
Tears everywhere are shed in floods :
The boys and masters too
With downcast eyes and solemn gait
Bewail so terrible a fate
Like monkeys at the Zoo.
But let us hope in future days
To see the end of this mad craze,
And let us have instead
Tiddlewinks or dominoes,
Or even Punch and Judy shows,
Or—, that'll do : 'nuff said !
*
*
When you are dead, and fires cruel
Playing round your tortured brow are,
Divert your mind with Hades' fuel,
And find its calorific power.
T.
X.Y.Z.
After Anstey.
At Charterhouse in days gone by
I looked with reverential eye
On youths brought up on porridge
Whose mighty feet have won them fame
In keeping up the old school's name
Of the best soccer college.
The muscles on each leg and arm
Filled the opponents with alarm,
And we swelled out with pride
As, standing on the line, we saw
Goal after goal our forwards score
Against the other side.
But now all that is changed : and we
Have other boys and games to be
The object of our praise:
A cricket or a footer blood
Is reckoned as an utter dud,
And rackets no one plays.
Who are the heroes of the school ?
Who hold the strong and potent rule
Once wielded by athletics ?
Why, learned youths of stature small,
Experts in matters classical,
Dynamics and kinetics.
They are the champions of chess,
Masters of guile and subtleness,
And marvellously clever.
Each move takes half a day or so,
And men may come and men may go
But they go on for ever.
SCENE.—Big Ground on a School match day.
The School,
because it has to, is looking on and perpetrating a
dismal noise not unlike that of a flock of sheep,
which is punctuated from time to time with bursts
of extra applause, invariably at the wrong moment,
and never failing to draw forth a quantity of rich
sarcasm from those who know the game. The usual
number of disinterested visitors and ladies with
nothing better to do occupy the seats in front of
cabbage patch.
CHORUS. Charterho-o-ouse!
BEHIND THE ROPE.
SMALL Boy fas a Bigger One comes up\. Sorry, this place is
gripped.
[The Bigger One pretends not to hear and pushes in.
A few minutes later the Friend of the Small Boy
arrives."]
FRIEND or S.B. Here, I thought you were keeping me a
place ?
SMALL Bor \_in an injured tone). So I was, only it was taken.
FRIEND or S.B. What, by him ? Oh, he would !
[The gentleman referred to turns round and glares at
him ; Friend of S.B. thinks it wiser to watch from
behind for a bit. The more he tries the less he can
see. At last he gets exasperated, and endeavours
to insinuate himself into the front line.~\
CHOKUS ALL ROUND. Oh, who is bricking about ? For heaven's
sake keep still, can't you ? Who is he P Some festive
new-bug—kick him! Ow! that's my toe! Get off,
confound you ! etc., etc.
[Friend of S.B. gives'up the effort as fruitless, and
in an attempt to conceal his mortification lets off a
mournful solo, " Chart-erho-o-ouse .'" not realizing
that the ball happens to be outside the touch-line ;
half-way through, however, the situation dawns
on him: he stops abruptly, blushes to the roots of
his hair, and subsides into a disconsolate silence
for the neat quarter-qf-an-hour.]
60
THE CARTHUSIAN.
ON TERRACE.
f A middle-sized Carthusian with a hat and stick is
wandering up and down in some dejection, waiting
the arrival of a doting maiden Aunt, who would
insist on coming down to see " Freddy at school,"
Freddy is airing liis opinions on said. Aunt to
while away the time.]
M.S. CAR. [as a taxi drives up, with a painful smile of welcome."}
Hullo, Auntie!
DOTING AUNT [getting out of the Ford."] Why, there he is !
Gracious, how big you've grown since I last saw you !
And how are you p You great healthy schoolboy—
look at those rosy cheeks ! [Pinches them.^ Well, may
I kiss yon, or are you too big for that n o w ?
[Frederick inwardly fumes and outwardly Hushes,
mumbling incoherent words to the effect that she has
his sanction ; whereupon she kisses him loudly and
moistly on either cheek, of which process her luckless nephew is afterwards seen surreptitiously
wiping off the aftermath.^
DRIVER OF FORD. Hem ! 'Souse me, mum
DOTING AUNT. Why there, I'd quite forgotten to pay the
driver; what a silly old thing I am ! [Spends the next
three minutes extricating the fare from her purse.'] There
you are, cabby, and here's tuppence for yourself. Now,
Freddy, you must show me all round everything ; I want
to see your cubicle, your football ground, and just
where you sit in class and your pew in church. I don't
want to miss aw/thing, mind !
[Frederick endeavours to resign himself, and they
move off.]
BY THE SCORE-BOX.
O?TIMISTIC ENTHUSIAST. Oh, well played ! Jove, that was
jolly good. Look, did you see that ? I say, Gilliflower's playing well, isn't he ! Right across—that's
it! Now up with it—O'Breezy's away ! Oh, he's
missed it—did you see ? Their back just nipped in.
He's jolly good, that back. Hullo, what's he doing ?
Oh, I see. Well tackled! That was jolly good. I
say, Horseprop's playing jolly well. He'll get firsts
after this. So will Sparker, I expect, [And so on, till
the end of the game.]
A BUDDING- FOOTBALLER [in his own estimation, who has conndent hopes of glory to come, and is trying to solicit a confirmation of his hopes from the lips of another."] When
is Farmyard leaving ?
His COMPANION [who sees what he is aiming at, and at once conceives an unfriendly determination at all costs not to say
what is expected of him."] Oh, I don't know. Next year,
I suppose.
B.F. [musingly"]. Wonder who'll take his place ? Let's see,
who is there ? There don't seem any really promising
forwards in the school just now, do there.
His COMPANION. Oh, I don't know.
B.F. [under the impression that hie plan is succeeding.] Why,
who are you thinking of P
His COMPANION. I don't know. There are one or two,
B.F. [modestly"]. Well I can't think of anybody good enough
at the moment, I must say.
His COMPANION [ruthlessly"]. What about Hood ? He's supposed to be awfully good.
[DECEMBER, 1920.
B.F. [who privately considers he is better than Hood, with unnecessary spite.'] Hood? Good heavens, he's absolutely
rank ! Heaven help the school if people like him are
going to be in the team ! Besides, he's leaving.
[After which lie gives up in disgust, find preserves </,
sulky silence for tlie rest of the match.']
NEAII THE FLAG-STAFF.
[The usual crowd of enthusiasts from Gndnlminri
and members of the Charterhouse staff are discussing the game.]
A LATE ARRIVAL.
What's the scawer ?
Charter'ouse
winnin' ?
A GODAI.MING CITIKKN. That's roight—two to one for.
L.A. 'Oo's it against ?
G.C. Westminister.
A BUTTERY Boy [ent]iusia.itii:allif\. Coo, did yer see t h a t ! It
come down on that big feller's 'cad a fair thunderbolt!
AKOTHKU. Looked more like an ornary footer-ball ter me.
[Congratulates himself secretly on this " lion mot."
His friend, however, fails to grasp qiiite what has
happened, but with a vague sense of having been
outwitted considers it ivisest to seek refuge in
silence, and pretends not to have heard.]
A WAG. Hullo, offside. I wonder how much they gave
Jimmy for that P Must be about two bob a time, you
know. Runs them up a nice little william by the end
of the game, I suppose. [Adopting an intonation much
used throughout the school,] Oh, yes-er '. I am not the
kind of man to refuse good money when I see it, of
course—er ! Le noble referee—er, la-tzimm, la-tzimm
la-la-a-a-a!
BEHIND THE ROPE.
[Refrain : " Ghart-er-ho-o-ouse ! " with variations.]
A SUBTLK HUMOURIST. Pass up to Mr. Wiler, pay more attention to the game up the other end 1
[The message is passed up till it reaches someone
who has heard that trick before. Here it stops, and
another one is sent back to the effect that Mr. Wiler
would oblige by minding his own qualified business ;
this to the huge delight of a quantity of small boys
through whom it passes.
A whistle blows, signifying the end of the game.
Loud cries of" Wurp ! " proclaim a victory for the
home side ; and there ensues a general stampede in
the direction of Crown."]
T.
There are some who when they've fonnd
A word that's fairly long
Make a most unpleasant sound,
Both meaningless and wrong;
Such as legger, confirmagger,
Intercegger, Sagger-Magger,
Cloggers, and Noggers!
DECEMBER, 1920.]
61
THE CARTHUSIAN.
We have heard there is a house—
We won't say which it is—
Which can't stand the name of " C'house " :
What can it think of this ?
Condescegger, confirmagger,
Intercegger, Sagger-Magger,
Staggers, Lagger, legger theagger,
Cloggers, and Noggers!
Each and all deserve to be
Eternally accursed;
But, I think you'll all agree,
The last two are the worst:
Confirmagger, Intercegger,
Sagger-Magger, Condescegger,
Legger theagger, Staggers, Lagger,
Chigger, digger,
Cloggers, and Noggers.
the door he remarked in his most winning manner,
" Good affternoon. A very fine affternoon indeed ! "
I closed the door, and my account for that matter."
of
By Bichard Hughes.
Benjamin Crocker in sixteen-three,
(Here's to the Devil in flaming rum !)
Made his fifth voyage to West Carribee,
(Drink to the Devil, man, and don't look glum !)
Kierce was his scowl, and his skin tanned red,
And a knotted silk kerchief covered his head
That was scarred with ivory, steel, and lead :
He wore three knives and a cutlass too
To slit the gullets of men of thew :
Or his thumbs could strangle a whole ship's crew :
(Here's to the Devil and his jolly chum !)
Though I could with ease go on
I will not pain you more,
For I've got to do some con.,
Still, I've told you plenty, for
There is legger, interegger,
Condescegger, intercegger,
There is dagger, Sagger-Magger,
Staggers, Lagger, Confirmagger,
There is Jagger, legger theagger,
Chigger, digger,
Cloggers, Noggers,
And Wagger pagger bagger !
C.A.B.
I don't quite know what it was, but I felt something
was wrong the moment I entered the shop. " Morning,"
I said gruffly. " Good morning, a very fine morning
indeed," replied the chemist affably. " No it isn't,"
I remarked testily. To begin with it was raining
cats and dogs, and even if it hadn't been I was quite
capable of seeing for myself without being informed
of the fact by every single interfering shopkeeper
whom it was my misfortune to visit. " Of course
not," he continued, rubbing his hands. " Then why
on earth did you say it was ? " I continued. " Er !
Ah! and what can I do for you this lovely
morning ? " he ventured.
" You can do nothing,
absolutely nothing; I always thought you were
incapable and now I know it." A clock began to
strike the hour.
I continued, " You don't stock
cabbages, tie pins, theatre tickets or even bootlaces.
What's the use of you ? Good morning"—this as
the clock finished striking. As I turned the handle of
Benjamin Crocker touched Brazil,
(Drink to his health in ancient rum !)
To victual his ship on dried guatil,
(Pour it down till your tongue's burnt dumb !)
And melons, and capec, and Roger-ho,
And Sapagoril from Madago,
And grey-green porpoises dried in a row:
All about on the beach lay his crew, everyone
Swilling neat rum in the scorching sun
Till the sky turned black and the sea turned dun :
(Come, my poppet: a noggin of rum !)
For the folk that voyaged with Bloody Ben,
(Drink to the Devil in golden rum!)
Were none of them squeamish sort of men,
(Drink, till your toes begin to hum !)
So the Skipper started him off alone
To seek strange toys for his sweet-heart, Joan :
Butterflies, gew-gaws of gold or bone :
At his fierce approach the Carribs fled
And flung small darts at his gawdy head :
But he winged a few, and then kicked them dead,
And swigged a pull at his flask of rum.
Old Gal-gar-ul sat and basked in the heat,
(Fill your brain with Jamaica rum !)
And mummied strips of tough, dried meat:
(Drink, man, drink till the Grey Rats come !)
In her small shadow the bright eyes shone
Of a black beast hobbling, one leg gone,
And never a paw to stand upon :
She babbled a speech of ancient men,
Without wit or strength to run from Ben :
He snapped her bones like a dry quill pen.
(Here, sweet, chuck with another of rum !)
62
THE CARTHUSIAN.
He burnt the place, and took away
(Warm your guts with a soak of rum !)
A small green flute for his child to play,
(Drink, till the New Jerusalum !)
And a scented idol of smooth, hard wood,
And knotted strings, and a feather hood :
—Things that he hardly understood :
And horny knives, of a strange device,
And things ill-gotten, above all price :
Ear-rings, nose-rings : gone in a trice :
And slaked his thirst with a draught of rum.
Then he sought his mates, and his ship so trim :
(Praised be Old Nick for the gift ol rum !)
But a black beast hobbled after him,
And he knew it not, being well in rum :
He reached his ship as the sun went down :
Ills men lay awash from toe to crown
In the cooling tide : for you cannot drown
When you are full to the gills inside :
You sleep it off : so he let them bide,
Snoring like porpoises, drunk to the wide,
And went below for a tot of rum.
There, below, on a pile of kegs,
(Brandy, Canary, and a Cyprus drum,)
A black thing swiffled, upon three legs :
He shrieked, and felt his knees go numb,
And fell, and cracked his burning head,
And cursed and clutched in his reeling dread :
Next day they found the Captain dead
In thick green bilge, without nose or lip,
Where the sea-worms crawl and the black baulks drip,
In a mess of blood where a foot might slip,
And an oozy track where the Thing had come.
They trussed him, and slung him, and made much revel,
Boozing away till Kingdom Come,
With pirate chaunties, hymns to the Devil,
Well washed down with a draught of rum :
They slung him over to Davy Jones
Who now has charge of his gawky bones:
And they weighed him down with round, white stones
For fear that the spirit he had in his head
Should cause him to rise too soon from the dead,
And gibber, and float, and foul the lead :
—So here's to the Devil, in good old rum!
On a bank a beggar sitting,
Poor and old ;
Little goblins hopping, flitting,
Clad in gold,
Leap from nose to tip of ear,
[DECEMBER, 1920.
Bending low to peep and peer ;
Wander down a wrinkle valley
To a towering eyelash ; dally
With a tear.
•Beggar wakens, stretches yawning ;
Goblins flee.
Sun slants down across the morning
Merrily.
Beggar opens both his eyes,
To his feet begins to rise;—
Goblins watch him all together
Crouching hidden in the heather,
Where he lies.
Sleepy beggar lifts his pack
Shoulder high ;
Straps it safe across his back
With a sigh.
Down the road he tramps again
Looks not back where he has lain ;—
There the goblins still are dancing,
In and out their small feet prancing,
Quick as rain.
of a Qelicate
Monday.—Rose early this morning full of a fiery
determination to do a record week's work. Went to
my study to prepare my Greek Testament, but decided
time would be better spent tidying up for the week's
work; removed remains of Saturday's brew, threw
some magazines out of the window, and locked up the
Rhyming Dictionary. Severely rebuked by the master
for not preparing my Testament, and so I went up and
explained that I had been tidying up my study ; but
he didn't seem to listen.
This evening had a good tea to prepare for a long
night's work ; felt that my mind would be better
balanced for work by a little ethical discussion ;
visited a neighbouring study and discussed the ethics
of football until eight. Returned to my study much
refreshed to study Thucydides ; found a statement in
the notes that Thucydides was the finest historian that
ever lived. Felt sure that I knew a better history—
"The Comic History of England"; could not actually
find a passage to surpass Thucydides, but kept on
trying.
After prayers I felt my determination driving me
to work ; went upstairs and cleared my brain with, a
DECEMBER, 1920.]
THE CARTHUSIAN.
little conversation with those who were going to bed.
Felt sure that I should be fresher for the morrow's
hard grind if I got a little extra sleep; acted upon
my impulse.
Tuesday.—Woke up with a strange feeling of
headache; mentally noted I must not work so hard
at night. Decided perhaps I ought not to risk making
a headache worse by learning repetition, but went into
school after breakfast. Fortunately, to-day's construe
is not till after the quarter. Headache vastly better ;
in fact it seems hard to believe I ever had one. Spirits
rose high ; construed with a feeling of exhilaration
only slightly tempered by a strange feeling of unfamiliarity. Master almost rude about my construe ;
explained my principles of keeping fresh. This drew
forth sarcasm ; I must write out the construe twice ;
how little these masters understand me !
Am convinced that Corps would not be beneficial
after an attack of headache; the matron had a nasty
tone in her voice; can it be that she too misunderstands me ?
I find it most comforting to sit round a fire. Saw
pictures in the flames ; pictured myself working hard
to-night. I cannot be well if I am subject to
absurd hallucinations. Shook off these thoughts by
a little talk with Veal; I always think a little
refreshment can do no harm, even to a confirmed
invalid.
Was struck with an awful thought, curiously coinciding with the banco bell, that I have not yet read
the papers. Of course, a full knowledge of the classics
is not possible with an incomplete knowledge of
parallel contemporary affairs. Read The Times leader.
At 8.55 felt a strange sensation of having just woken ;
this is serious. I have explained my symptoms to
the matron, who thinks I need sleep. Perhaps she
is right.
Wednesday afternoon, 2—4 p.m.—My thoughts are
so confused. Will the master of the week understand
if I explain to him ? I don't feel I ought to go on
writing out this construe feeling as ill as I do. How
little these masters understand me ! !
63
Old Pan sat in a forest playing sweet old-world
melodies upon his pipe, melodies full of the joy of
living, full of the charm of forest depths and green
swards bathed in sunlight. As he played, by chance
there came that way one that was a musician, who,
hearing him play, stopped a moment to listen: then
he approached, and addressed him thus—" Sir, I do
not know if you realise it, but your playing is crude,
your progressions are tedious, and the effect produced
on the emotions is nothing but a purely vulgar desire
to skip and dance." " Sir," said Pan, "I know nothing
of progressions: I play because I love it and must.
I may tell you that I played before your ancestors of
five or six generations ago ; and they would not let
me go before I had played many such tunes to them."
"And I may tell you," replied the other, "that I know
ten times as much about music as they did. I am
afraid you will find an adverse criticism of yourself in
the 'Saturday Critic' of this week."
With this
Parthian thunderbolt he retired.
But still Pan played on. And by and bye there
came that way a young man full of this world's common sense, and of self-confidence. He stayed not to
hear his tunes at all, but advanced upon him with
scornful eyes, and cried " My good man, I don't know
whether you think you are being funny, but let me
tell you that it simply isn't done to go about in that
condition, even here. In fact, if you' do not get some
decent garments pretty quickly, I shall find it my duty
to fetch a police officer from the nearest hamlet! "
" Sir, I am Pan, and I have been accepted in many
ages as I am." " Great Scott! " said the practical
young man, the fellow's mad: I must really fetch the
police "—and he ran off to do so.
Now Pan was very grieved at heart because no one
desired his music. He arose, still playing, and wandered away, his melody becoming very plaintive.
And because he thought of these things, and did not
accurately observe whither he wandered, by chance he
stepped over the brink of a deep pond which was in
the forest. The final agonized wail of his pipe, as he
felt himself falling, was terrible to hear.
"By Jove/' said the musician, who chanced to be
sitting on the far side of the pond, engrossed in his
thoughts, " that fellow can play after all! "
L.H.L.
Printed lor the Proprietors by A. LINDSBT, Moas Lane, Godalming.