Games/Humor Books

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. Time and the Woman. By Richard Pryce. Not by any means a pearl of Pryce, and certainly not likely to make so great noise in the novel-reading world as did The Quiet Mrs. Fleming, by the same author. Methuen & Co. publish it. The Baron heartily recommends Frank Barrett's novel, in three vols., entitled, Kitty's Father. A thoroughly absorbing plot, well worked out, and... more...

BOAT-RACE DAY. The Reader will kindly imagine that he has crossed Hammersmith Bridge, and is being carried along by a jostling stream of sightseers towards Mortlake. The banks are already occupied—although it still wants half an hour to the time fixed for the start—by a triple row of the more patient and prudent spectators. On the left of the path, various more or lessShady Charactershave... more...

'ARRY AT 'ARRYGATE. (Second Letter.) DEAR CHARLIE,—The post-mark, no doubt, will surprise you. I'm still at the "Crown," Though I said in my last—wot wos true—I was jest on the mizzle for town. 'Ad a letter from nunky, old man, with another small cheque. Good old nunk! So I'm in for a fortnit' more sulphur and slosh, afore doing a bunk. Ah! I've worked... more...

NEW WELLS FOR OLD. Over the top of Part II. of The Outline of History I caught the smiling glance of the man in the opposite corner of the compartment. "Good stuff that," he said, indicating the History with a jerk of his head. "Quite," I agreed, maintaining my distance. "Immense," he continued. "And it means the dawn of a new life for me. I'm Wells's hero. Every... more...

HOT WEATHER CORRESPONDENCE. (In the manner of various contemporaries.) ANIMAL LABOUR. Corelli Parade, Stratford-on-Avon. DEAR SIR,—I seem to have read somewhere of the extreme sagacity and intelligence shown by the baboons of South Africa, some of whom, as well as I remember, are employed as porters and, I think, station-masters on the railways in the interior of Cape Colony. My gardener and coachman... more...

WASHOUT. We had hardly settled down to Mess when an orderly, armed with a buff slip, shot through the door, narrowly missed colliding with the soup, and pulled up by Grigson's chair. Grigson is our Flight Commander—one of those rugged and impenetrable individuals who seem impervious to any kind of shock. There is a legend that on one occasion four machine-gun bullets actually hit him and bounced... more...

I may assume, that after the terrible example given in my last chapter, you have firmly made up your mind never on any account to take service in the great army of bores. But this determination is not all that is necessary. A man must constantly keep a strict guard on himself, lest he should unconsciously deviate even for a few minutes into the regions of boredom. Whatever you do, let nothing tempt you... more...

A SHORT WAY WITH SUBMARINES. "A short way with submarines?" said Bill; "oh, yes, we've got one all right; but," he added regretfully, "I don't know as I'm at liberty to tell you. Wot I'm thinkin' about is this 'ere Defence o' the Realm Act—see? Why, there was a feller I knew got ten days' cells for just tellin' a young woman where... more...

July 8, 1914 Lord Brassey is said to be annoyed at the way in which his recent adventure at Kiel was exaggerated. He landed, it seems, on the mole of the Kaiser Dockyard, not noticing a warning to trespassers—and certain of our newspapers proceeded at once to make a mountain out of the mole. Mr. Roosevelt's American physician, Dr. Alexander Lambert, has confirmed the advice of his European... more...

"Though cold the coxcomb, and though coarse the boor, Though dulness haunts the rich and pain the poor, In this colossal city, Yet London is not Rome, O Shade!" I said. "A later Juvenal should not find her dead To purity and pity." "Satire, of shames and follies in sole quest, Is a one-eyed divinity at best," My guide responded, slowly. "The tale of Zoïlus hath its moral... more...