Periodicals
- Art 27
- Children's periodicals 59
- Entertainment 5
- Food/Wine 2
- Games/Humor
- General 661
- Health 1
- History 53
- House/Home 1
- Regional 62
- Science/Nature 118
- Transportation 10
Games/Humor Books
Sort by:
by:
Various
"STUMPED!" (A would-be laudatory Ode.By Jingle Junior.) [The young Indian Gentleman, Mr. H. RANJITSINHJI, has "secured his century" at Cricket no less than eleven times this season.] O H.S. RANJIT—(spelling a wild venture is!) Wielder of willow, runner-up of "centuries"! What's in a name? A name like RANJITSIN— (Can't finish it, was foolish to begin!) How many...
more...
by:
Various
IMPRESSIONS OF "IL TROVATORE." (By a Matter-of-Fact Philistine at Covent Garden.) ACT I. SCENE 2.—Leonora's confidant evidently alive to the responsibilities of her position. Watch her, for example, when her Mistress is about to confide to her ear the dawn of her passion for Manrico. She walks Leonora gently down to the footlights, launches her into her solo, like a boat, and stands...
more...
by:
Various
CONVERSATIONAL HINTS FOR YOUNG SHOOTERS. LUNCH (continued).—Perhaps the best piece of advice that I can give you, my young friend, is that—for conversational purposes—you should make a careful study of the natures and temperaments of your companions. Watch their little peculiarities, both of manner and of shooting; pick up what you can about their careers in sport and in the general world, and...
more...
LETTERS TO ABSTRACTIONS. No. XVII.—TO FAILURE. A Philosopher has deigned to address to me a letter. "Sir," writes my venerable correspondent, "I have been reading your open letters to Abstractions with some interest. You will, however, perhaps permit me to observe that amongst those to whom you have written are not a few who have no right whatever to be numbered amongst Abstractions....
more...
THE MAN WHO WOULD. II.—THE MAN WHO WOULD PLAY GOLF. Bulger was no cricketer, no tennis-player, no sportsman, in fact. But his Doctor recommended exercise and fresh air. "And I'm thinking, Sir," he added, "that you cannot do better than just take yourself down to St. Andrews, and put yourself under Tom Morris." "Is he a great Scotch physician?" asked Bulger; "I...
more...
by:
Various
THE GAME OF THE LITTLE HORSES. (A Sketch at the Casino, Dinard.) On either side of the circular Race-course, with its revolving metal horses, is a Green Table, divided into numbered squares, around which the Players, who are mostly English, are sitting or standing. A Croupier with his rake presides at each table. In an obscure corner of the balcony outside, Miss DAINTREE and her Married Sister have...
more...
by:
Various
THE CANDIDATE'S COMPLETE LETTER-WRITER.(In Answer to a Sweep asking for a F.O. Clerkship.)MY DEAR MR. ——, Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to secure for your interesting son a Clerkship in the Foreign Office. The fact that he has a distaste for the profession to which you belong would be no disqualification. I agree with you that chimney-sweeping is better than diplomacy. However,...
more...
by:
Various
A RESULT OF BEING HOSPITABLE. SCENE—Small, but Fashionable Club in West-End. Algy. Waiter! bring me a brandy-and-soda. Don't feel up to the average to-day. Hughie. Late last night? Algy. Yes. Went to Mrs. CRAMMERLY's Dance, Prince's Gate. Goodness knows why I went! I don't think they'll get me there again in a hurry. Charlie (waking up from arm-chair). Were you a victim too?...
more...
by:
Various
FROM DAY TO DAY. (A Study in Political Journalism, from some of the Morning Papers.) No. I. To-day, the first pollings of the General Election take place, and the electors will be called upon to decide one of the most momentous issues that have ever been submitted to the judgment of the country. For ourselves, we cannot doubt for a moment as to what the verdict will be. It is impossible that a policy...
more...
by:
Various
TO THE FIRST BATHING-MACHINE. (After Wordsworth.) O blank new-comer! I have seen, I see thee with a start: So gentle looking a Machine, Infernal one thou art! When first the sun feels rather hot, Or even rather warm, From some dim, hibernating spot Rolls forth thy clumsy form. Perhaps thou babblest to the sea Of sunshine and of flowers; Thou bringest but a thought to me Of such bad quarter hours. I,...
more...