BATESON’S RISE.

Waipawa Mail, Volume XXXVI, Issue 7752, 22 July 1916, Page 4 (Supplement)

BATESON’S RISE.

By W. PETT RIDGE, The Well-Known Humorous Writer in the London “Daily Mail.” July 1914. “ Bateson, it is reported to me by ono of the senior clerks that on no less than two occasions this month you havo arrived at office ten minutes late.” “The trains, sir ” “I want no excuses, no heating about the bush, no shifty aixdogies. You are a.s well aware as I am that nine o’clock is the hour for signing on. But perhaps (sarcastically) I am crediting you with too much intelligence. Possibly vou have never learnt to tell the time. Bateson, I strongly recommend you to acquire, with all convenient speed, that most useful accompYshmont. Not really difficult, you konw. When the long hand points to X double 1 and tho short hand points to IX, that means it is nine o’clock. Try to carry the simple feet in your head, Bateson. You possess a head, I believe?” “Yes, sir!” “A reassuring admission on yoip part. If nature had but given you a brain a.s well, how much your equipment for City life would have been inc*readied, leaving your affection fo»r games unimpaired. You take an 'nterest in cricket, no doubt.” “To some extent, sir.” “Quite so, unite so. And no doubt if I asked you now many times Suffolk, for instance, has won the championship durr’ng the last ten years your reply would he, given—— You are smiling, Bateson. You are under the impression that this discussion of ours is an amusing incident. I congratulate you, Bateson, on possess’ng a sense of humour. But (truculently I warn you that this is of very little use in Grace-church-streot. Unless you decide, young man. to take life a triflo more seriously I shall have no hesitation in asking you to transfer your help to a, quarter whrt’vo . : t will be hotter appreciated This is tho first and last warning 1 give you.” “ T am sorry, sr, if ” “Tho door is where it was when you ®tnered the room Close it quietly as you go out.” August 1914. “Well, Bateson, then I take it you are determined A> go, and I suppose nothing I can say will knock any sense into you. But let m.o tell you this (wagging forefinger) : You are doing a very mad and reckless thing iti deciding to join the Army without hirst obtaining my per mission.” “My folk at home, sir, were quite willing to ” “ I’ve nothing to do with you folk at home. I have to think of the office and what will happen here if many more follow your example. Commerce is the backbone of tke British Empire, but that, of course, is nothing to you. Everything depends on the business of tli? nation being carried on as usual, but you, as I can see, snap your fingers at that. I tell you what it is, Bateson, you are acting from motives of pure and undluted selfishness. All you consider is yourself. You fancy it will impress everybody when you strut about in uniform. You are under tlio delusion that the Germans can’t he beaten w ithout your help. Do you know what T call it, Bateson? Colossal conceit. That’s the phrase for it. Colossal conceit. And mark this. If you persist in carrying out your wild intentions don’t you imagine that you c,an come back just when you picas? to your comfortable quarters here in Gracech urehstrect-. When you go you go, and you don’t return. We wash our hands o. you. Tlv' war will probably be over bv the end of this year, and you may com? up the stair easy l on your hands and knees but you'll find nothing for you hero.” “ f should like to sr.v ” “Can’t Vsten to you. Bateson. You’ve exhausted m.v large supply of patience. Get out of it as sharp as you like!” January 1915. “ Bateson to sec me ? Better show him in, perhaps. One must be amiable to these Army men. Toll* tho other people to wait for three minutes. Ah ! (genially to new arrival in uniform) how arc we, how arc we, how are we *' By Jove! wo look a dffor.ent man altogether. Sit down and make yourself at home. No. no, don’t take that chair—take mine. It’s more comfort“As 1 am going out next week* sir. I ventured ” "Not at all, not at all. Delighted to see you. It isyouing men like yourself who* make one hope— although the outlook is not at present very bright—that everything> : .s bound to conn* well at the end. lteady to do battle for the sake of the old country and prepared to sac. rifle? your lives if encossar.y in order that Gi’acechurch-street, where you have spent so many happy and never-to-be-forgotten hours Fleas? smoke Try one of my cigars; tjio left-hand side of the case, please; the others I keep for myself. Now tell me all about everything. 1 was 21 trifle wrong, Jipparcntly, in guessing that December wouTci see the finish of it. Vou are not sparing yourself, 1 hojve. Work’ng hard and all that sort of tiling, eh?” “Th? drill down at Caterham — ” “1 know (sympathetically), 1 know’ Or at any rat? I c:m imagine, f put in -a whole four hours as special con stable myself, but I had to give it up Got ou my nerves; tlu* constant ex peetation of something happening and nothing h-n-ppenfng. I should have b<’?n a mental -and physical wr.eck if I had gone on with it. And that is where I’m Jin older mail than you 1 should wish to give a word of advice that I have offered to tho others who have, left us. Keep a brave, stout heart’. Re member these of us like myself who arc looking on and lioping that Inter you’ll como back sale and sound to Grace-ehureh-streot. My lad (offering both hands and speaking wvtli emotion), good luck to you. and may Providence watch over you wherever you go; and, a.part from that, take oare of yourself When you see a bullet coming, dodge. Another cigar? No? Well, I suppose ( I ought not to detain you. Musi you b? off? Then I’ll see you to tin* lift.” “ You nc-edn’t trouble to—- “ Trouble?” (with a gesture) “My dear sir, w? mustn't consider anything a trouble at times like tlv's. Wlr.t do tli,o two stripes on your sleeve mean?” May 1916. “"Whore’s the head waiter? Tell tb> head waiter I want him at once. Go and find him and tell him, from me that unless —oh, here you are, hear waiter. Now. lot us undeist'.rnd the procedure of the*, evening. I give the health of the King, and you must have someone at th° piano to start the Natioiml Anthem, and then I shall off r the toast of our fn'end hero- on inv right. And then lie’ll ,’oplv. Have you got that? Wry well, then. (Turns deferentiallv to guest of the evening.) I’ve an 111 god il a:!, sir.” “Good of you to tak? ’’ “Not in flu* least. A pleasure, and n v?ry great honou \. holier? me. I shall speak briefly in proposing your health : thirty-live minute's, perhaps less. Depends how they take it. And then vou ("ise and say a couple of words Just a sentence will lie ample. Now, if you don’t mind, sir, let’s meke a start! (Gives th? loyal toast and joins.an octave low, in th? singing.) Gentlemen! (Cheers.) Wo are here to-night

to do honour to our dear and valued er—chum (applause)—home on leave from the front. During all the year* of my acquaintance with him, from the day he. as a mere lad, joined the firm wvth which we aire all associated, there has never been, I can honestly declare, so much as a mis-word, never the sign or shadow of a cloud. Indeed, our relations at Gracechurcli-street mind you, it is thanks to him and to those I'.ke him that Graeechureh-street continues to exist—(“Hear, hear”) were scarcely as tho head of a film towards a junior, hut rather as A parent towards a son. I look upon Lieutenant Bateson as not only a crodft. to myself -> (Left speaking.)