# Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3816/Charivaria

A weekly selection of short humorous items, normally on the first page of each issue.
CHARIVARIA.
An eclipse of the sun took place on Friday last. It is supposed to have been an attempt on the part of the sun to prevent the Germans finding a place in it.
South Africa has now declared with no uncertain voice that she intends to fight under the British Flag, and the Kaiser's vexation on realising that the money spent on a certain famous telegram was sheer waste is said to have been pitiable.
We hear, by the way, that His Imperial Majesty is also extremely annoyed that so many English people should be resuming their summer holidays at the seaside. This is considered a slight on the power and ubiquity of the German Navy.
Some idea of how well the secret of their ultimate destination was kept even from the soldiers of our expeditionary force may be gathered from the fact that their favourite song on arriving in France was "It's a long way to Tip-par-ar-y."
The German newspapers no doubt perceive in this a reference to our Civil War in Ireland.
We are glad that the lie about the cutting-up of the Black Watch has been scotched. May they yet live to be "The Black Watch on the Rhine."
A gentleman writes to The Observer to mention that an American surgeon, on bidding him farewell the other day, remarked, "Blood is thicker than water." This statement, coming from a medical man, who ought to know, is extremely valuable.
"The Goeben's Inglorious Scuttle." Daily Mail.
Yes, and now full of Turkey's coal.
The London Museum is open again. The Curator, we understand, would be glad to add to his collection of curiosities any Londoner who is still in favour of a small Navy.
The Devon and Somerset stag-hounds have stopped hunting, and there is said to be a movement on foot among the local stags in favour of passing a vote of thanks to a certain mad dog.
Which reminds us that that rare spectacle, a smile on the face of an oyster, may now be seen. It has been decided that the Whitstable oyster feast shall not be held this year.
The Duc d'Orleans has sent back to the Austrian Emperor the collar of the Golden Fleece which His Majesty conferred on him in 1896. One can understand a Frenchman objecting to being collared by an Austrian.
It is, as is well known, an ill wind that blows no one any good. As a result of the War the proceedings of the British Association are not being reported at their usual length in our newspapers.
Another little advantage arising out of the War seems to have escaped notice. Owing to the face that such Germans as are left among us eat much more quietly than formerly in order not to attract attention to themselves, it is now possible to hear an orchestra at a restaurant.
The horse-race habit is, we suppose, difficult to shed. A newsvendor was heard shouting the other day, "European War. Result!"
"An artist who called at a famous firm of etching printers," a contemporary tells us, "found the men were away printing bank-notes." We trust that they were authorised to do so.
"Cambridge public houses," we read, "are to close at 9 p.m." Such dons are are still up for the Long Vacation are said to be taking it gamely in spite of the inconvenience of accustoming themselves to the new regulation.
Every day one finds fresh examples of how the War is putting an end to our internecine rivalries. For instance, The Daily Mail is now issuing the "Standard" History of the War.
Some of our contemporaries are referring to the Germans as "Modern Huns." We would point out that, as a matter of fact, they are not real Huns. They are wrong Huns.
"Thousands of young men without ties," complains a writer in The Express, "remain indifferent to the call of their country." We are afraid that this is true not only of those without ties, but also of some who wear expensive cravats.