Games/Humor Books

DUSTBIN. He dropped in to tea, quite casually; forced an entry through the mud wall of our barn, in fact. No, he wouldn't sit down—expected to be leaving in a few minutes; but he didn't mind if he did have a sardine, and helped himself to the tinful. Yes, a bit of bully, thanks, wouldn't be amiss; and a nice piece of coal; cockchafers very good too when, as now, in season; and, for... more...

THE NEW JOURNAL-INSURANCE. [Several newspapers have been roused to a sense of their duties to their readers by the insurance competition between The Chronicle and The Mail. We make a few preliminary announcements of other insurance schemes which are not yet contemplated.] VOTES FOR WOMEN.—A copy of the current issue nailed to your front door insures you absolutely against arson. THE STAR.—All... more...

ACT I. A Room tastefully filled with cheap Art-furniture. Gimcracks in an étagère; a festoon of chenille monkeys hanging from the gaselier. Japanese fans, skeletons, cotton-wool spiders, frogs, and lizards, scattered everywhere about. Drain-pipes with tall dyed grasses. A porcelain stove decorated with transferable pictures. Showily-bound books in book-case. Window. The Visitors' bell rings in... more...

June 9, 1920. Owing to heavy storms the other day one thousand London telephones were thrown out of order. Very few subscribers noticed the difference. A camera capable of photographing the most rapid moving objects in the world is the latest invention of an American. There is some talk of his trying to photograph a bricklayer whizzing along at his work. "Perjury is now rampant in all our Courts... more...

THE SUPER-PIPE. When Jackson first joined the jolly old B.E.F. he smoked a pipe. He carried it anyhow. Loose in his pocket, mind you. A pipe-bowl at his pocket's brim a simple pipe-bowl was to him, and it was nothing more. Of course no decent B.E.F. mess could stand that. Jackson was told that a pipe was anathema maranatha, which is Greek for no bon. "What will I smoke then?" said Jackson,... more...

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.King Cracker the Millionth, of the Bonbon Dynasty.The Baron's Assistants say that of the Christmas works published by Messrs. HUTCHINSON & CO. they can and do recommend The Children of Wilton Chase by L.J. MEAD, to which they accord their mead of praise, which likewise they bestow on FLORENCE MARRYAT's The Little Marine and the Japanese Lily, a book of adventures in the... more...

STRAY THOUGHTS ON PLAY-WRITING. From the Common-place Book of The O'Wilde.—The play? Oh, the play be zephyr'd! The play is not the thing. In other words, the play is nothing. Point is to prepare immense assortment of entirely irrelevant epigrams. "Epigram, my dear Duke, is the refuge of the dullard, who imagines that he obtains truth by inverting a truism." That sounds well; must... more...

LETTERS TO PEOPLE I DON'T KNOW. (No answers required, thank you.) To Count Brockdorff-Rantzau, Head of the German Peace Delegation. The enthralling volume, entitled Preliminary Terms of Peace, on which your attention is being engrossed at the present moment, is said to be of the same length as A Tale of Two Cities. In other respects there is little resemblance traceable between the two works. A... more...

BLANCHE'S LETTERS. SOCIETY "WAR-WORKERS." DEAREST DAPHNE,—The scarcity of paper isn't altogether an unmixed misfortune, as far as one's correspondence is concerned. Letters that don't matter, letters from the insignificant and the boresome, simply aren't answered. For small spur-of-the-moment notes to one's intimes who're not too far off, there's quite... more...

OPERATIC NOTES.Ancient Brass-Work, in memory of Wagner the Great Worker in Brass. Wednesday.—WAGNER. Vainly the Daughters of the River, representing the floating capital of the Banks of the Rhine, cry "Woa! Woa!" The orchestra, under the direction of Herr MAHLER, takes no notice of them, but goes on Wagnerianly, inexorably. Thus swimmingly we reach Walhall—where the fire-god Loge has a... more...