Games/Humor Books

Sweet odours, radiant colours, glittering light! How swift a change from the dusk sodden night Of London in mid-winter! Titania here might revel as at home; Fair forms are floating soft as Paphian foam, Bright as an iceberg-splinter. Dianas doubtless, yet their frost holds fire; The snowiest bosom covers soft desire, And these are snowy, verily. As blanched—and bare—as Himalaya's peaks,... more...

Fleacatcher.—Yes, the trout in the river Itching (this is the only correct spelling) are red, and, before they are boiled, raw. The best method of catching them is to tickle them. When you have hooked an Itching trout, you first scratch him, and then cook him. Novice.—We only knew one man who could make a decent rod, and he died twenty years ago. Remember the old adage so dear to Izaak, Qui parcit... more...

HEART-TO-HEART TALKS. (The PRESIDENT of the United States and Mr. GERARD.) The President. Here you are then at last, my dear Mr. GERARD. I am afraid you have had a long and uncomfortable journey. Mr. Gerard. Don't say a word about that, Mr. President. It's all in the day's work, and, anyhow, it's an immense pleasure to be back in one's own country. The President. Yes, I can... more...

MAN AND WIVES. A TRAVESTY. By MOSE SKINNER, CHAPTER SIXTH. ANN'S RECEPTION. The next morning, as ANN was eating breakfast, who should drive up in a covered wagon but the Hon. MICHAEL. "Just as I expected," said she. "They've found out where I am, and they'll come out here and try to pump me about it. But I don't envy 'em their job. Come in," she added, in answer... more...

THE PRELIMINARY DOVE: ITS PROSPECTS. Within a little week or two, So all our sanguine prints declare, The Dove (or Bird of Peace) is due To spread its wings and take the air, Like Mr. THOMAS when he flew Across the firmamental blue To join the PREMIER in communion Touching the Railway Workers' Union. We've waited many a weary week With bulging eyes and fevered brow, While WILSON pressed upon... more...

TIMON. About a month ago we lost our dog. I can't describe him, although I have tried from time to time; but Elaine, my wife, said I should not speak in that fashion of a dumb animal. He stands about two hands high, is of a reseda-green shade, except when in anger, and has no distinguishing marks except the absence of a piece of the right ear, which was carried off by a marauding Irish terrier. He... more...

THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD. AN ADAPTATION. BY ORPHEUS C. KERR CHAPTER XVIII A SUBTLE STRANGER. The latest transient guest at the Roach House—a hotel kept on the entomological plan in Bumsteadville—was a gentleman of such lurid aspect as made every beholder burn to know whom he could possibly be. His enormous head of curled red hair not only presented a central parting on top... more...

A PROPER PROPORTION. (An Interview with Mr. H.G. WELLS). I found the Sage, as I had expected, in his study at Omniscience Lodge. There he sat in his new suit of Britlings, surrounded by novels and stories in MS. dealing with every aspect of human affairs, sixty of the more important being specifically devoted to the War and the various ways in which it might conceivably terminate. I modestly approached... more...

MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. (Condensed and Revised Version by Mr. P.'s Own Harmless Ibsenite.) No. IV.—THE WILD DUCK. ACT III. HIALMAR's Studio. A photograph has just been taken, GINA and HEDVIG are tidying up. Gina (apologetically). There should have been a luncheon-party in this Act, with Dr. RELLING and MÖLVIK, who would have been in a state of comic "chippiness," after his... more...

LETTERS TO ABSTRACTIONS. NO. VIII.—TO LAZINESS. BEST (AND BEST-ABUSED) OF ABSTRACTIONS, My heart positively warms to you as I write. At this precise moment I can think of a hundred different things that I ought to be doing. For instance, I have not written to TOM, who is in the wilds of Canada, for months. His last letter ended with a pathetic appeal for an answer. "Never mind, old chap," he... more...