LONDON AND THE WAR.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LII, Issue 15807, 2 January 1915, Page 4 (Supplement)

LONDON AND THE WAR.

EAST END PICTURES. "DEAR OLD JELLTCOE."PHILOSOPHY OF THE COFFEE STALL. WriAT does London think of the war? How are they feeling it down in the East End? Is. the average Englishman the coldblooded fish he is supposed to be, or is he really all a man of warm blood? These and a thousand other questions occur to one's mind these days and nights while we await the Zeppelin raid that may happen at any moment, writes a London correspondent. I know perfectly well that to the New Zealander the composure and seeming indifference of he Englishman at this present moment is inclined to be exasperating. Not that recruiting is falling off, nor that the papers axe beginning to lose their mammoth circulation figures. But there is certainly an impression abroad that the country at large has failed to realise the sheer immensity of the problem that is facing England, together with the rest of the civilised world. To say yes or no on this point would be to argue a knowledge of things English, and more particularly of things London, foreign to anyone save some*" super " John 6' London." As a mere colonial I confess to being absolutely at sea when it comes to estimating the exact sense of public opinion, and I am pretty certain that I am in the very best of company. Now and again in the daily and weekly press some sidelight is thrown upon the matter, as was the case the other day in the Daily Mail. A contributor, writing under the pen-name of "Ear-Witness," threw a vivid light upon the matter as it affects the poorer quarters of this wonderful London. I venture to quote from the article- in question, in the hope that you will be the wiser, as I was. Wishing for Bombs.

" Wish the bounders would come in some of their Zeppelins and throw a few bombs down on us," said the Testaurant keeper. He is a spanking fine fellow, the proud possessor of a medal with two clasps and an engraved sil\er watch as mementoes of the South African War. And itching to shoot Germans. . . . "Why?" asked the grocer's assistant, a mini-itnre man who for some time impressed us as being dead against the war and generally speaking of the opinion that if kings had to fall out they had better fall to and settle it between themselves. He does not impress us any longer—not in that way. We have since learnt that out of his weekly wages of twenty-four shillings he pays two to the Prince of Wales' Fund, spends several shillings more at a rifle ranee at Manor Park learning to shoot, and has been rejected at three different recruiting stations.

He's a humbug. "Why?" repeated the restaurant keeper. " Might wake us up —that's why! Tho'ugh. I doubt it,' he added, despairply. The coal-man, who looks more cheerful now the frosty nights have set in, considerately eating his sauced herring off the Sportsman in order not to leave his trade-mark on the table-cloth, ventured the statement- that England wasn't arleep, that he knew of— 'alf! He didn't think. . . .

"Oh. isn't she?" snarled our host. "We sent two men armed with sticks down to guard the macazine at —. didn't wo? Yes. and thev'd have been there still, ready to renulse the invader, if an old rusty colonel hadn't come along and kicked thorn home to their families. Now we have got . - . armed soldiers guarding that magazine. Awake! We never were. We never shrill be. See this?" "he asked, triumphantly c winding a man over hi= head. "It's the best man of London in existence. But on the front pace it says, fnirlv and ononc-h. 'Printed at the Omrany's Work*. Berlin.' .And we haven't jot a Tritiph map of Berlin, or of London for that matter, "half as pood at double the price. It cost me a «.hilHr><?. And if one is awake one is "heifer lulled to sleep every day Simply Idled:" The Same Song. "Mother alive still?" asked the coalman, facetiously. " No—h'it grandmother is' And she runs all the dailv napers. Thev all sing the same song: ' Allies' splendid position. Allies retiring to better position. All's

well!' That was one song, and it had a good many verses. Then came another one: 'Allies' splendid position.—Germans cannot move us.' No—nor we the Germans. They've sung that for four or five weeks. Then : ' Fall of Antwerp—A barren victory.Antwerp didn't matter, anyhow.' Meanwhile, the late Belgium,' as Kipling would say, and part of France, have been added to the German Empire." Here he roused himself up to his full height, which is 6ft 2in—less the curls: "I'm grown up!" he shouted. "I know that it's not 4 all lavender, so far, and I shouldn't faint if they told me so. Cup of tea, kipper and two!" This to .the kitchen ; and then : " I'm an Englishman ! I'm not a white-livered, shivery-kneed, black-hided Dago. Why should they treat me as one?" Such Ferocious Brutes. The big, burly contractor slid bis glass over to the barmaid, who at once filled it. Then he lit his cigar deliberately, and I smiled complacently. "We shall wear them out in time, Mr. Lovelock — fear! We shall be all right in the end." a " But I don't want us to wear them out, sir. I want us to fight them." " Money will win—safest way! Nothing like money for winning." " I would rather we could win in some other wayreally," protested Mr. Lovelock, looking pleadingly out from his goldrimmed spectacles. "All right— wait! They're losing i men every day, and they can't afford it. We can." "But Couldn't we beat them now?" "Of course we could. But, don't you see" Here the contractor lost his patience, "That's the -worst of you mild-inannere'l, spectacled gents," he spluttered, "you're such ferocious brutes. Nothing but the instant annihilation of the German Army will do you. If we are rich enough to win with silver bullets—why use lead?" "I feel quite creepy," said the lady at the coft'ee-£tall. " I suppose it's " the gloom." 'Nothing to bo scared of, lady." consoled the stallkeeper " There's nothing in it after all. What did they do to Paris? Only seventeen killed and wounded." " But I might be number sixteen. . . . Don't you really think we shall have them over here some day?" The stall-keeper didn't. "Well, well," she said, "but they are so clever. They seem to be doing it all. Of course, 1 believe in dear Jellicoe, but I have no faith at all in the Germans. They really seem to be capable of anything."