Games/Humor Books

THE BRIGHTER SIDE OF PEACE. I'm not out of the Army yet, but lately I was home on leave. At a time like that you don't really care about being demobilised just yet. After all, to earn—or let us say to be paid—several pounds for a fortnight's luxurious idleness is a far, far better thing than to receive about the same number of shillings for a like period of unremitting toil. There... more...

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...

MONSIEUR JOSEPH. On the day that I left hospital, with a month's sick leave in hand, I went to dine at my favourite Soho restaurant, the Mazarin, which I always liked because it provided an excellent meal for an extremely modest sum. But this evening my steps turned towards the old place because I wanted a word with Monsieur Joseph, the head-waiter. I found him the same genial soul as ever, though... more...

CHARIVARIA. Lord Riddell, in giving his impression of President Wilson, says that his trousers and boots were not in keeping with the smartness of his appearance above the table. This is where the trained habits of journalistic observation come in. In answer to many inquiries we are unable to obtain confirmation of a rumour that Mr. Charlie Chaplin's contemplated retirement is connected with an... more...

THE MYSTERY OF MR. E. DROOD. AN ADAPTATION. BY ORPHEUS C. KERR. CHAPTER XXIV. MR. CLEWS AT HIS NOVEL. Thrown into Rembrandtish relief by the light of a garish kerosene lamp upon the table: with one discouraged lock of hair hanging over his nose, and straw hat pushed so far back from his phrenological brow that its vast rim had the fine artistic effect of a huge saintly nimbus: Mr. BUMSTEAD sat... more...

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...

"Great Scot!" [Extorted, by circumstances beyond his control, from a stolid but unsuccessful Saxon Shootist at Bisley and Wimbledon, after the match at the latter place between picked twenties of the London Scottish and the London Rifle Brigade, won easily by the former team.] Oh! the Scot lot are all cracks at a shot, And extremely successful at Hunting the Pot. This particular "Saxon"... more...

The Elysian Fields, a flower-gemmed bank, by a flowing stream, beneath the sylvan shade of unfading foliage. Mr. Punch—who is free of all places, from Fleet Street to Parnassus—discovered, in Arcadian attire, attempting "numerous verse" on a subject of National importance—to wit, the approaching Royal Marriage. Mr. Punch. Propt on this "bank of amaranth and moly,"Beneath the shade... more...

25 MARCH 1914. The attention of the American Ambassador has been called to the danger of after-dinner speaking. There is many a true word said in digestion—and the truth is apt to hurt sensitive nations. Art circles continue to seethe with indignation over the National Gallery outrage. Even the Post-Impressionists have now no sympathy with the Suffragettes, for they realise that, while in this... more...

TITLE AND HALF-TITLE PAGES. With a view to economy of paper, the title and half-title pages of the Volume which is completed with the present issue are not being delivered with copies of Punch as hitherto; they will however be sent free, by post, upon receipt of a request. Those readers who have their Volumes bound at the Punch Office, or by other binders in the official binding-cases, will not need to... more...