Games/Humor Books

TO THE GERMAN MILITARY PICTURE DEPARTMENT.[The enemy, in his turn, is exhibiting a film of the fighting on the Somme. At the close a statement is thrown upon the screen to the effect that the Germans have "reached the appointed goal."]On footer fields two goals are situated, One, as a rule, at either end: This for attack (in front) is indicated, And this (to rearward) you defend; In your remark... more...

WHY I DON'T WRITE PLAYS. (From the Common-place Book of a Novelist.) Because it is so much pleasanter to read one's work than to hear it on the Stage. Because Publishers are far more amiable to deal with than Actor-Managers. Because "behind the scenes" is such a disappointing place—except in Novels. Because why waste three weeks on writing a Play, when it takes only three years to... more...

SWORD AND PEN; Or, The Rival Commanders. (Extract from a Military Story of the near Future.) Captain Pipeclay was perplexed when his Company refused to obey him. He was considered a fairly good soldier, but not up to date. He might know his drill, he might have read his Queen's Regulations, but he had vague ideas of the power of the Press. "You see, Sir," remonstrated his Colour-Sergeant;... more...

FORCE OF HABIT. The fact that George had been eighteen months in Gallipoli, Egypt and France, without leave home till now, should have warned me. As it was I merely found myself gasping "Shell-shock!" We were walking in a crowded thoroughfare, and George was giving all the officers he met the cheeriest of "Good mornings." It took people in two ways. Those on leave, blushing to think... more...

August 26, 1914. An eclipse of the sun took place on Friday last. It is supposed to have been an attempt on the part of the sun to prevent the Germans finding a place in it. South Africa has now declared with no uncertain voice that she intends to fight under the British Flag, and the Kaiser's vexation on realising that the money spent on a certain famous telegram was sheer waste is said to have... more...

HEARING HIMSELF. (Mysterious Mem. from a Hawarden Note-Book.) Exceedingly kind and flattering of MAX MÜLLER! "I hope there are but few here present who have never enjoyed the privilege of listening to Mr. GLADSTONE." Ha! ha! He little thought there was one there who had not "enjoyed that privilege." Have enjoyed most privileges in my time, but never that of "hearing myself as... more...

TWO-PENN'ORTH OF THEOSOPHY. (A Sketch at the Islington Arcadia.) SCENE—The Agricultural Hall. A large Steam-Circus is revolving with its organ in full blast; near it is a "Razzle-Dazzle" Machine, provided with a powerful mechanical piano. To the combined strains of these instruments, the merrier hearts of Islington are performing a desultory dance, which seems to consist chiefly in the... more...

JULY 30, 1887. A natural anxiety that his pupils should be furnished with as complete a repertory as possible, has prompted Mr. Punch to command one of his spare Poets to knock off a little dramatic piece founded (at a respectful distance) upon a famous Transatlantic model. The spare Poet in question—all reluctant as he felt even to appear to be competing with the inimitable—had, as the minion of... more...

CHAPTER III. Reims—Night—Streets—Arrival—Lion d'Or—Depression—Landlady—Boots—Cathedral—Loneliness—Bed. It is just ten o'clock. Reims seems to be in bed and fast asleep, except for the presence in the streets of a very few persons, official and unofficial, of whom the former are evidently on the alert as to the movements, slouching and uncertain, of the latter. We drive... 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...