There used to be a song which affirmed (how truly, I do not know) that every nice girl loved a sailor. I am prepared to state, though I do not propose to make a song about it, that every nice man loves a detective story. This week I have been reading the last adventures of […]

WHEN I am not feeling very well I go to Beatrice for sympathy and advice. Anyhow I get the advice. “I think,” I said carelessly, wishing to break it to her as gently as possible, “I think I have hay-fever.” “Nonsense,” said Beatrice. That annoyed me. Why shouldn’t I have hay-fever if I wanted to? […]

Our Flame-flower, the Family Flame-flower, is now plainly established in the north-east corner of the pergola, and flourishes exceedingly. There, or thereabouts, it will remain through the generations to come–a cascade of glory to the eye, a fountain of pride to the soul. “Our fathers’ fathers,” the unborn will say of us, “performed this thing; […]

“IT’S a bootiful day again, Sir,” said my gardener, James, looking in at the study window. “Bootiful, James, bootiful,” I said, as I went on with my work. “You might almost say as spring was here at last, like.” “Cross your fingers quickly, James, and touch wood. Look here, I’ll be out in a minute […]

There died recently a gentleman named Nat Gould, twenty million copies of whose books had been sold. They were hardly ever reviewed in the literary papers; advertisements of them rarely appeared; no puffs nor photographs of the author were thrust upon one, Unostentatiously he wrote them–five in a year–and his million public was assured to […]

Once upon a time there was a King who had three sons. The two eldest were lazy, good-for-nothing young men, but the third son, whose name was Charming, was a delightful youth, who was loved by everybody (outside his family) who knew him. Whenever he rode through the town the people used to stop whatever […]

The scene is the Editor’s room in the office of The Lark. Two walls of the room are completely hidden from floor to ceiling by magnificently-bound books: the third wall at the back is hidden by boxes of immensely expensive cigars. The windows, of course, are in the fourth wall, which, however, need not be […]

The scene is laid outside a village inn in that county of curious dialects, Loamshire. The inn is easily indicated by a round table bearing two mugs of liquid, while a fallen log emphasizes the rural nature of the scene. Gaffer Jarge and Gaffer Willyum are seated at the table, surrounded by a fringe of […]

We are told that the theatre is in a bad way, that the English Drama is dead, but I suspect that every generation in its turn has been told the same thing. I have been reading some old numbers of the Theatrical Magazine of a hundred years ago. These were the palmy days of the […]

The stage is in semi-darkness as Dick Trayle throws open the window from outside, puts his knee on the sill, and falls carefully into the drawing-room of Beeste Hall. He is dressed in a knickerbocker suit with arrows on it (such as can always be borrowed from a friend), and, to judge from the noises […]

As the curtain goes up two ladies are discovered in the morning-room of Honeysuckle Lodge engaged in work of a feminine nature. Miss Alice Prendergast is doing something delicate with a crochet-hook, but it is obvious that her thoughts are far away. She sighs at intervals, and occasionally lays down her work and presses both […]

The scene is a drawing-room (in which the men are allowed to smoke–or a smoking-room in which the women are allowed to draw–it doesn’t much matter) in the house of somebody or other in the country. George Turnbull and his old College friend, Henry Peterson, are confiding in each other, as old friends will, over […]

Herbert is a man who knows all about railway tickets, and packing, and being in time for trains, and things like that. But I fancy I have taught him a lesson at last. He won’t talk quite so much about tickets in future. I was just thinking about getting up when he came into my […]

A friend of mine is just going off for his holiday. He is having a longer holiday than usual this time. Instead of his customary three weeks, he is having a year, and he is going to see the world. He begins with India. Probably some of our Territorials will wonder why he wants to […]

When I am in any doubt or difficulty I say to myself, “What would Napoleon have done?” The answer generally comes at once: “He would have borrowed from Henry,” or “He would have said his aunt was ill”–the one obviously right and proper thing. Then I weigh in and do it. “What station is this?” […]

There is something on my mind, of which I must relieve myself. If I am ever to face the world again with a smile I must share my trouble with others. I cannot bear my burden alone. Friends, I have lost my hat. Will the gentleman who took it by mistake, and forgot to leave […]

We have been trying to hide it from each other, but the truth must now come out. Our house is haunted. Well, of course, anybody’s house might be haunted. Anybody might have a headless ghost walking about the battlements or the bath-room at midnight, and if it were no more than that, I should not […]

John walked eight miles over the cliffs to the nearest town in order to buy tobacco. He came back to the farmhouse with no tobacco and the news that he had met some friends in the town who had invited us to dinner and Bridge the next evening. “But that’s no reason why you should […]

It was three o’clock, and the afternoon sun reddened the western windows of one of the busiest of Government offices. In an airy room on the third floor Richard Dale was batting. Standing in front of the coal-box with the fire-shovel in his hands, he was a model of the strenuous young Englishman; and as […]

The New Bailey was crowded with a gay and fashionable throng. It was a remarkable case of shop-lifting. Aurora Delaine, nineteen, was charged with feloniously stealing and conveying certain articles, the property of the Universal Stores, to wit thirty-five yards of bock muslin, ten pairs of gloves, a sponge, two gimlets, five jars of cold […]