Games/Humor Books

XVI. "Midnight's meridian is supposed to mark The bound twixt toil and slumber. Light and dark Mete out the lives of mortals In happy alternation," said my guide. "Six hours must fleet ere Phoebus shall set wide His glowing orient portals. "The last loud halloo at the tavern-door long since has driven the reckless and the poor From misery's only haven Forth on the chilling... more...

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...

SALUBRITIES ABROAD. Royat Improved.—I have said Royat ought to be rebuilt. The Grand Hotel is of a sort of Doll's House order of architecture, splendid front, no depth to speak of, and built on so steep an ascent that it is hoisted up at the back like a lady's skirt by a dress-improver. Beau site all the same, and magnificent view. Last year the Hotel Continental formed part of a group of... more...

November 17th, 1920. It is rumoured that a gentleman who purchased a miniature two-seater car at the Motor Show last week arrived home one night to find the cat playing with it on the mat. It appears that nothing definite has yet been decided as to whether The Daily Mail will publish a Continental edition of the Sandringham Hat. The matter having passed out of the hands of D.O.R.A., the Westminster... more...

THE SUPERFECTION LAUNDRY. I let myself into my flat to find a young woman sitting on one of those comfortless chairs designed by upholsterers for persons of second quality who are bidden to wait in the hall. "You want to see me?" I inquired. "Yes; what is it?" "I have called, Madam, to ask if you are satisfied with your laundry." "Far from it," I said. "It is kind of... more...

THE MINERS' OPERA. About a week ago, when they took Titterby away to the large red-brick establishment which he now adorns, certain papers which were left lying in his study passed into my hands, for I was almost his only friend. It had long been Titterby's belief that a great future lay before the librettist who should produce topical light operas on the Gilbert and Sullivan model, dealing... more...

BRIDGE CONVENTIONS. The game of Auction Bridge may be divided into three species. There is the one we play at home, the second which we play at the Robinsons', and the third that is played at the high table at my club. The three games are peculiarly distinct, but I have only recently discovered, at some expense, that each one has its particular conventions. At home, if I venture a light no-trump,... more...

A COUP FOR "THE DAILY TRAIL." We all knew at the office that Micklebrown had gone to Cocklesea for his holiday. If anyone had offered him a free pass to the Italian lakes or any other delectable spot Micklebrown would have declined it and taken his third return to Cocklesea. Like Sir Walter Raleigh when he started for South America to find a gold-mine, Micklebrown had an object in view. He... more...

A WHIFF OF THE BRINY. As I entered the D.E.F. Company's depôt, Melancholy marked me for her own. Business reasons—not my own but the more cogent business reasons of an upperling—had just postponed my summer holiday; postponed it with a lofty vagueness to "possibly November. We might be able to let you go by then, my boy." November! What would Shrimpton-on-Sea be like even at the... more...

THE PRODIGIES. We—Great-aunts Emily and Louisa—had in our innocence been telling a few old fairy stories at bedtime to those three precocities whom our hosts call their children. We knew that they talked Latin and Greek in their sleep and were too much for their parents in argument, but we thought that at least, at the story hour—— We were stopped by Drusilla. "I don't think much of... more...