Butter Rum Cartoon

Butter Rum Cartoon

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Wednesday, July 14, 2021


 I was nine or ten years old and short for my age. Trent was probably a year older than I, and taller and bigger. He lived next door, across the alley from us, in Blaine, Washington, where Dad was the minister of the Methodist church. Trent wasn't his real name, but I can't remember his real name, so I'll call him Trent. He was my friend.

I remember only three events with Trent, and all of them took place at his place. I don't think he ever came over to mine. Two of the events took place in his kitchen when his folks weren't home. I don't remember ever seeing his folks. One was when he sat chewing something. I asked him what he was eating, and he said, "A scab." That was one of the grossest things in memory.

Another time, I opened and peered into his refrigerator and saw a pickle lying there. "Hey, can I have this pickle?" I asked, hoping, and Trent generously said I could. So I popped it into my mouth and began chewing. It wasn't a pickle. It was a jalapeƱo pepper—the first one I ever ate. I cried. Trent laughed.

But the third event, the one this story is about, took place in Trent's front yard. We were both sitting on a grassy slope by some steps, talking about things, including the Army. My brother Paul was in the Army, and I idolized my big brother. While Trent and I talked, he made the motion of pulling the pin of a hand grenade out with his teeth and throwing it. I said, "My brother says you can't do that. It'd bust your teeth; you gotta use your finger." Trent gave me a frown and casually said, "Your brother's a fart."

Suddenly, even before I knew it, I was all over Trent, pounding on him with my fists. He was so big that my pummeling was little more than an annoyance, and he stood up, picked me up and threw me down, and strode into his house.

I was furious. Stomping home, I stopped beside his house along the way and began throwing rocks at it, careful to miss the windows but making a racket. It turns out that his mom was home, and she called my folks, and here marched Dad, also furious, at me, as I threw rocks at the neighbors' house. "What are you doing!" he shouted.

"He called Paul an f-a-r-t," I said angrily, not daring to say the word to my minister father who would never allow me to say "gosh" or "darn" or even "shut up."

Dad had spanked me for putting sand in a girl's hair, and for pushing Danny into a drainage ditch, but he just stood there and ordered me to go to my room. Once there, I expected him to come spank me, but he didn't. I heard him talking quietly to Mom in the dining room, and cracked the door of my room open enough to hear him say, "He even spelled it."

For the complete contents of the Butter Rum Cartoon, click here

Monday, July 5, 2021


The Uninvited Guests

 An Iranian Folk Tale

Illustrated by Judy Farman-Farmanian

Adopted by Farideh Fardjam

In a small village there lived an old woman. This old woman's little house had a yard the size of a saucer and in it there was a tree the size of a match stick.

The old woman was good-hearted and kind. Children liked her very much.

One evening, just as the sun was disappearing below the horizon and dusk entered the houses, the old woman lighted her lamp and put it on the window sill. She covered herself with her chador (a cloak that Moslem women wear) and went outside to get a breath of air, talk to her neighbors and relax.

While she was talking with some children, it started to rain—just a sprinkle at first, the pleasant smell of mud walls dampened by the rain scented the air.

The old woman sent the children on their way home and went back to her own small house. It began to pour. Thunder and lightning shook the dishes on the window sill. The old woman was cold and had just decided to spread her bedding on the floor and tuck herself in when there was a knock on the door...

Knock                    Knock                    Knock

The old woman said to herself, "Good grief! Who could it be at this time of night?" She covered herself with her chador, ran into the yard and called from behind the garden door, "Who's knocking at the door?"

"It's me, Miss Sparrow. I'm getting wet in the rain. Open the door."

The old woman opened the door and said, "Come in." Rain drops rolled off of the sparrow's beak—drip, drip, drip. She flapped her wings—flap, flap, flap.

The old woman led the sparrow to her room and put a cloth over her wet wings. The sparrow was scratching her wings with her beak when again they heard a knock at the door...

Knock                    Knock                    Knock

The old woman ran out again and asked, "Who's knocking at the door?"

"It's me, short-legged Hen. I'm getting wet in the rain. Open the door."

The old woman opened the door and said, "All right, come in." The hen's feathers were stuck together; her tired eyes expressionless. The old woman put a cloth over the hen's back. The hen moved to one side of the room and shook herself to get dry.

The old woman hadn't taken off her wet chador when, again, she heard someone knocking at the door...

Knock                    Knock                    Knock

The old woman without hesitation ran out to the garden door and asked, "Who's knocking at the door?"

"It's me, Mister Blackbird. I'm getting wet in the rain. Open the door."

The old woman opened the door and said, "All right, come in." 

The cat entered the room. When the sparrow, the hen and the blackbird saw her coming in, they huddled together and began to shiver. The cat smiled and said, "Don't be frightened, we're all guests here and we have to make the best of it." So they relaxed and began to doze off. The old woman put a cloth on the cat's back too. The cat stretched out in a corner, closed her eyes and began to wash her face and paws. The old woman went to close the door when again...

Knock                    Knock                    Knock

The old woman had her work cut out for her. She put on her chador, went out to the garden door and asked, "Who's knocking at the door?"

"It's me, Watch Dog. I'm getting wet in the rain. Open the door." 

The old woman opened the door and said, "You come in too." The dog's teeth were chattering—click, click, click. The old woman took him to her room. She tied a scarf around his neck and led him aside to lie down. The dog had just settled down to scratching behind his ear when, again, they heard knocking at the door...

Knock                    Knock                    Knock

The old woman, who knew there was another guest waiting in the rain, went to the door and asked, "Who's knocking at the door?"

"It's me, Mister Donkey. I'm getting wet in the rain. Open the door."

The old woman began to laugh, then opened the door and said, "Come in." The donkey stamped his hooves on the ground, kicked his hind legs happily into the air and jumped into the yard. 

The old woman led the donkey into the house and put a quilt on his back. And he also went to a corner and stretched out. The knocking at the door was louder than before...

Knock                    Knock                    Knock

The old woman went to the door and asked, "Who's knocking at the door?"

"It's me, Black Bull. I'm getting wet in the rain. Open the door."

The old woman opened the door and said, "All right, you come in too. The bull first lowered his horns to pass through the door, then squeezed himself into the yard. When the others saw the bull, they moved around to make room for him. The sparrow giggled at it all.

The bull coughed and knelt down in a corner. The old woman brought a blanket and covered the bull. Then she faced her guests and said, "All right, you can all sleep comfortably and tomorrow morning go back to your own chores."

The sparrow, the hen and the blackbird jumped onto the window sill and went to sleep. The cat, the dog, the donkey and the bull slept around the room. The old woman, who was tired also, pulled her quilt over herself and went to sleep.

The next morning, the woman was so tired that she woke up later than usual, but when she opened her eyes she saw that everyone was busy. The donkey lit the samovar, an urn for boiling water for tea, and put it on the tablecloth. The cat was making tea.

The dog was sweeping the yard. The blackbird was gathering wood. 

The bull was smoothing the wet roof with a stone roller, and the hen was helping him

The old woman was happy to see all the activity in her little house. She put on her chador, went out and bought bread, and returned to the house. They sat down around the samovar and ate bread and drank tea. They talked happily. And while the guests had their last cup of tea, the donkey said, "Last night when it was raining, we had no place to go, but now we must excuse ourselves and leave."

All of the guests, realizing how kind the old woman had been to them, were sad at the thought of leaving. The old woman said, "If you want to know what is in my heart, I wish that you could all stay here. But my yard is the size of a saucer and I don't have enough room. Even if Miss Sparrow could stay, Mr. Bull would have to leave." 

The bull began to think. He looked at the old woman and said, "I can 'moo' for you, and thrash wheat for you. Do you want me to leave?"

The old woman, realizing that she had hurt the bull's feelings, said, "Although there is little room, stay here with me."

The sparrow cleared her throat and said, "Dear old woman, I can 'tweet' for you, and lay small eggs for you. Do you want me to leave?"

The old woman smiled and said, "You don't take up much room, so stay."

The donkey shook his head and said with surprise, "Well, old woman, I can 'hee-haw' for you, and call the neighbors for you. Do you want me to leave?'

The old woman, seeing that the donkey was upset, said, "All right, you can stay."

The cat curled her tail around herself and said undecidedly, "I can 'meow' for you, and catch mice for you. Do you want me to leave?"

The old woman said, "Dear Pussy Cat, don't worry, you can stay, too."

The blackbird, seeing that everyone was staying, spoke up and said, "What's this? I can 'caw' for you, and wake people up for you. Do you want me to leave?"

The old woman said, "Mister Blackbird, don't get upset. You can stay, too."

The hen said, "I can 'cluck' for you, and lay big eggs for you. Do you want me to leave?"

The old woman said, "You can stay too."

The dog said, "I can 'woof' for you, and chase the thieves for you. Do you want me to leave?"

The old woman said, "It doesn't matter, you can stay too." She told each one, "If you choose to stay with me, you have to help each other to build shelter for yourselves so that we can all live comfortably."

They all got up from around the tablecloth, cleared the dishes and went to work. From that time on, year after year, they lived together happily every after.

For the complete contents of the Butter Rum Cartoon, click here.

Monday, December 14, 2020











"What game shall we have?" is a frequent question at family gatherings and social parties. Amusements of this character, requiring either action, the exercise of fancy or intelligence, or the taxing of the attention or the memory, are now eagerly sought, and becoming most popular among all classes. To meet the existing want, this volume has been prepared with great care, most of the games herein having been successfully tried, and will be found an abundant means of entertainment and amusement, either for private circles, family reunions, or large social assemblages, in which the young and the old alike can engage with equal zest and enthusiasm.


[FORFEITS are given at the end.]


One of the players withdraws to the hall, or adjoining room, when those in the parlor decide upon some article the leader is to touch with his cane. At a signal the player steps in, who, having been admitted to the secret, is aware that the article chosen will immediately follow the question in which a black article is mentioned. The word agreed on is a handkerchief.

Question.  Was it that book?

Answer.  No.

Q.  Was it the chandelier?

A.  No.

Q.  Was it not the ribbon on Emma's hair?

A.  No.

Q.  Was it that vase?

A.  No.

Q.  Was it Alice's ear-ring?

A.  No.

Q.  Was it that tidy?

A.  No.

Q.  Was it Harry's watch-chain?

A.  No.

Q.  Was it Frank's boot?

A.  No.

Q.  Was it your aunt's handkerchief?

A.  Yes.

This game may be mystified by substitution for a black article a piece of furniture having four legs, as a piano, table, chair, etc.


This is a most amusing game, and one in which considerable skill can be brought into play; the responses to be made in such a manner that the word of proverb adopted by each player should not appear conspicuous. One of the party is sent out of the room while the others choose a proverb, such as, "All is not gold that glitters;" "A stitch in time saves nine;" "Marry in haste, and repent at leisure;" "Time and tide wait for no man;" "The darkest hour is just before dawn;" "Take care of the minutes and the hours will take care of themselves;" "Slow and sure;" "Honesty is the best policy;" "Necessity is the mother of invention," etc.  The quotation being selected, one of the players goes round the circle, assigning to each member of the party, in the order in which they are seated, the word of the proverb which comes to them in turn. In replying to the three questions asked by the leader, upon returning to the parlor, each player must incorporate his or her word of the proverb into each answer. Some play this game by giving the questioner the privilege of asking only one, and in some instances two questions of each player; but three questions are more frequently asked, and considered preferable on most occasions. Beginning with the first person on the left, the answer must contain the first word of the proverb, the second person the second word, and so on. To illustrate the game, George is send out of the room, and the proverb chosen is, "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." Enter George:

Geo.  Fannie, which is right: six and eight are thirteen, or six and eight is thirteen?

Fannie.  After a little I will answer your question.

Geo.  Do you think we shall have rain to-morrow, Nellie?

Nellie.  I have no corns; nor am I a bird or a barometer, whereby I can indicate the state of the weather.

Geo.  Do you enjoy skating, Gerard?

Gerard.  On smooth ice, and the thermometer not in the vicinity of zero.

Geo.  Well, Lizzie, what is your opinion of Prospect Park?

Lizzie.  I think it is one of the finest parks in the country. Capital place for croquet-playing.

Geo.  Come, Georgie, won't you give us Gottschalk's "Last Thought" on the piano?

Georgie.  I would, but my 'hand' is so tired, and my wrist is lame with octave music.

Geo.  James, if a pint of baked chestnuts costs ten cents, what will be the expense of a gallon of cider for a Thanksgiving dinner?

James.  It is a knotty question, and I would prefer to test the chestnuts and cider before giving an answer.

Geo.  Lottie, what is your opinion of a flirt?

Lottie.  Never knew such an one among our sex; and, therefore, the question is not worth answering.

Geo.  Well, Nattie, won't you help me solve this problem?

Nattie.  Guess you will require the aid of one or two before you hit upon it.

Geo.  Josie, a penny for your thoughts.

Josie.  Too cheap by far in these days of high prices.

Geo.  My slippers are becoming worn, Lucy; don't you feel inclined to work me a new pair before Christmas?

Lucy.  Not in the least, I can assure you.

Geo.  Are you fond of prairie-chickens, Horace?

Horace.  Send me around a brace, and do not beat around the bush with so absurd a question. You know it is a favorite dish with me.

In selecting proverbs, it is desirable to choose those only which are composed of the most ordinary phrases. Answers should be given promptly, and should not exceed fifteen words in length. If required by the guesser, the answer must be repeated word for word.

Shouting Proverbs

A proverb is selected in the same manner as in the preceding game; instead, however, of the guesser asking questions of each member of the party, upon his coming into the room, each shouts the proverb assigned to him or her, being particularly careful, however, that all should call out together. By ascertaining beyond doubt two or three of the words in the sentence, the guesser will have a clue to the proverb. The person from whom he received the key to the quotation must exchange places with him.


The original, and perhaps the most amusing, form of Blind-man's Bluff is too well known to need description. Variety, however, is charming. The following are a few varieties, all more or less so in their way:

Shadow Buff

A sheet or white tablecloth is hung upon a screen, after the manner of preparations for a magic lantern. The blind man, as we may call him for the sake of distinction, his eyes not being bandaged, is seated on a stool, low enough to prevent his shadow being thrown on the sheet before him. At some distance behind him a lighted candle is placed, all the other lights in the room being extinguished.

All the members of the company then form themselves into a sort of procession, and pass one after the other between the blind man—who is not allowed to turn his head round as much as an inch—and the table whereon the candle is placed. This produces the effect intended. The light of the candle, intercepted by the forms passing before it, throws onto the sheet a profile shadow of each. As these shadows pass before him in succession, the blind man is obliged to declare aloud the name of the person to whom he imagines the shadow to belong. It is scarcely necessary to say, that each, in passing before the light, takes all possible pains to disguise his appearance, his height and his walk, so as to prevent recognition, the person recognized taking his seat before the screen.

The Blind-Man's Cane

The blind man—in this instance really blinded—is placed in the middle of the room, a light cane having been given to him. The players form a circle and dance round him, holding each other's hands, enlivening the proceeding by the chorus of any popular melody or lively air on the piano. The music finished, all stand still. The blind man holds out his cane, the person to whom it is pointed being obliged to take hold of it by the end presented to him. The blind man then asks three questions, to which the holder of the cane is obliged to answer, "Yes" or "No," disguising his voice to avoid being recognized. If the latter does not know how to disguise his voice he is detected, and takes the place of the blind man.


This is a capital parlor game for eighteen or twenty to engage in, the players to stand in the form of a star in twos and threes—six rows of two deep and two of three deep, their faces to the center—a lady being placed in front of each gentleman. The rows being arranged, two of the players are chosen—one to run after and touch the other; the object being to touch one of three, wherever three are together. The pursued has the right of crossing the ring in any direction, for which purpose the rows must be sufficiently far apart from each other to afford an easy passage, and when tired and not wishing to be touched and consequently become pursuer in his turn, may rest himself by standing in front of one of the rows, being then composed of three persons—which is not allowable. The outside one must therefore run away to avoid being touched. If touched, he takes the place of his pursuer, who is chased in his turn; or, if he likes it better, places himself in front of one of the rows, thereby compelling another player to run away, as the first. The more frequently this is done, the greater the perplexity of the pursuer; and, in consequence, the animation of the game.


On a given number of blank cards you write the same number of questions. An equal number of answers are prepared, so contrived that each answer will apply to any one of the questions, in whatever order they may be asked. The questions are given to a gentleman, the answers to a lady, or vice versa. Both shuffle their cards, and the holder of the questions reads them out in succession as they come to his hand—the other reading an answer to each in like manner. This produces replies often of a sufficiently piquant nature, as the following examples will show:

Question.  Are you of an affectionate disposition?

Answer.  Before dinner.

Q.  Can you weep at a tale of suffering?

A.  With new boots on.

Q.  Do you understand the language of flowers?

A.  Three times a week, if my mother has no objection.

Q.  Can you keep a secret?

A.  You'd laugh if I told you.

Q.  Can your temper be trusted?

A.  Under the rose.

Q.  Do you often change your mind?

A.  Don't you wish you may get it?

Q.  May I hope?

A.  Nonsense, etc., etc. 


The disciple of St. Crispin, who conducts the game, takes his seat in the center of a circle formed by the rest of the players, each of whom selects some article or implement connected, with the "gentle craft," which he is supposed to represent during the game; as the awl, the lapstone, the punch, the waxed thread, the leather, the sole, the boots, the strap; or even the names of persons or things more remotely connected, such as money, the foreman, a shoebinder, a customer, etc. 

Whenever the adopted name of any player is mentioned in the course of the game, he must immediately chime in with an observation, introducing the name of another, who, in his turn, fulfills the same condition. When the word "shop" is used, all must rise from their seats and say, "Let us go," and must on no account sit down again till they have again been mentioned by name, each in his turn.

When it is desirable to finish the game, the shoemaker—who, by the way, is known as the leader —says, "I shut up shop."

The following colloquy forms an example.

The Leader.  Why, what's the matter with you all tonight? You look dreadfully cut up, leather.

Leather.  So would you if you'd been bored as I have by that confounded awl.

Awl.  You needn't grumble; I've had enough to try me with that tough sole.

Sole.  Tough, indeed! We are all obliged to earn money.

Money.  Ah! you're all dependent on me. If it were not for me, I should like to know what would become of you or your leader.

Leader.  Don't give yourself uneasiness, but ask the shoebinder.

Shoebinder.  Don't ask me. I'm worn out with binding shoes.

Shoes.  And you wear us out enough in return. You never try boots.

Boots.  No; my wares are too expensive for you; we require a higher style of customer.

Customer.  Shop!

All.  (Getting up.) Let us go.

Leader.  Sit down and attend to your work, will you? As for you, Mr. Nails, (Nails sits down) I shall be down upon you like a hammer (Hammer sits down) if you don't mind. Stick to your business as I do. Like a good cobbler, I never go beyond my last (Last sits down). Keep your places, and let me serve the customer (Customer sits down). I would not miss selling him a pair of boots (Boots sits down) for any money (Money sits down). Etc., etc.

Any mistake or omission is, of course, punished by a forfeit.


The players seat themselves in a circle, each adopting a musical instrument, on which he is supposed to be the performer. As for instance, one chooses the violin, and draws his right hand backward and forward with a vigorous action over his extended left arm; another, the cornet, and puffs out his cheeks to the utmost extent of endurance, and with an entire disregard of personal beauty; another, the clarinet, and turns his eyes inside out, prolonging his countenance as painfully as possible; another, the double drum, and knocks as much dust out of two music-stools as possible; another, the piano, and strums with his hands on his knees or the table; and so on, through as many instruments as there are performers. The conductor takes his place in the center of the circle, sitting cross-legged on a chair, assuming the motions requisite for playing the instrument of his choice. Suddenly he will substitute therefore one of the instruments used by one of the other players, who must immediately take up the conductor's instrument, or be subject to paying a forfeit.


The players form a semicircle round the leader of the game, who holds in his hand a handkerchief knotted, to enable him to throw it at any player he may desire. When the leader touches a player with his handkerchief, saying, "Earth, Air or Water," the player must respond immediately with the name of the animal inhabiting the element cited.

For instance, if the leader says "Earth" the player receiving the handkerchief must immediately answer "lion," or the name of some other animal; "Air" "eagle;" "Water" "salmon." Should the person touched give "parrot" in answer to "Earth," or make a similar error in response, or should he give an answer previously given, he immediately takes the leader's place on the floor.


This forms one of the most enjoyable of parlor games, participated in by adults with the same eagerness and interest as by children; the hieroglyphics made on the carpet by the leader tending only to mystify the minds of the company present. One of the players, familiar with the secret, retires to the hall, when a word is agreed upon; having reentered the room, the leader making mysterious movements with the cane, he is addressed by him in a sentence, the first letter of which must correspond with the first consonant in the word chosen; the second sentence spoken by the leader to correspond with the second consonant, and so on. The vowels in the word are expressed by raps on the floor with the came; one rap for A; two for E; three for I; four for O; five for U.

For example, we will suppose that the word agreed upon is Boatman. Nellie, one of the players, having been admitted to the parlor, Charlie, after making certain mysterious movements of the cane in the air and over the carpet, says:

"Be careful, Nellie."

(Rap - rap - rap - a wave of the cane - rap.)

"Toes of Lizzie are in the way."

(A wave of the cane.)

"Mind your p's and q's."

(Rap - another wave of the cane.)

"Now guess the word."

Imagine the surprise of the uninitiated, when Nellie at once says "Boatman."

This game, if properly managed, may be kept up for a considerable time. Meanwhile, players fancying they have guessed the secret are ushered separately into the parlor, only to be mystified and confounded. For a large company, either of children or adults, this is a most interesting pastime. 


One of the players takes a feather, or any light substance, which he tosses up in the center of the assembled circle, who should be seated as closely together as convenience will admit of. He then blows upon it to keep it floating in the air. The individual to whom it comes nearest does the same, in order to prevent its falling on his knees, or indeed any part of his person—an accident which would subject him to the payment of a forfeit.

One of the chief advantages of this simple but highly amusing game is, that steady, serious people may be induced to engage in it. The gravity of their faces, blowing and puffing away at the contemptible feather, as if all their hopes were centered in evading its responsibility, is truly edifying. Sometimes it happens, it being impossible to blow and laugh at the same time, that the feather drops into the player's mouth at the very moment when he is concentrating all his energies in the effort to get rid of it. This is the signal for shouts of laughter, and for a forfeit.


The principal performer is armed with a magic wand, or cane, with which he makes a circle on the carpet and various hieroglyphics. After a few seconds he touches one of the players with his wand, who has been admitted to the secret of the game, ordering him to be blindfolded and go to the other end of the room. This order executed, the leader asks him to guess the person on whom the wand shall rest. The leader then proceeds to touch several persons lightly with the wand, saying at each, "The wand moves;" and at length, letting it rest on the shoulder of the person who has last spoken—the key to the trick—exclaims, "The wand rests!" The person blindfolded will at once name the person touched, who having been admitted to the secret also, has purposely spoken last. The latter then takes the place of the first accomplice, and the leader touches the players with his wand as before; his accomplices, without any apparent design, exciting the uninitiated to talk. Silence is then called for, and the leader immediately touches the last speaker, this time one not in the secret, who is immediately named by the blindfolded confederate, with whom he changes places. He then has to guess the player touched, having no knowledge of the trick to guide him, and for each mistake pays a forfeit.


Each player selects a trade, which he carries on in imitation, as follows:

The tailor stitches a coat.

The cobbler mends a shoe.

The laundress washes imaginary tubs full of shirts.

The painter paints a portrait.

The blacksmith hammers at the anvil, etc., etc.

One of the party is chosen as chief, and commences the game by exercising his own particular trade. When the chief takes it into his head to change his trade and adopt that of one of the party, all leave off work at once, and remain inactive, except the player thus imitated, who immediately takes up the trade of the chief, which he continues to exercise till such time as it shall please him to change again and take up somebody else's. The individual honored by this second choice then takes up the chief's trade, and continues till a third change takes place—the other players remaining idle till the chief resumes his original occupation—the signal for all to fall to work again.

Any player making a mistake pays a forfeit. 


Each player furnishes his neighbor with an answer, the questioner standing at a little distance, so as not to overhear what is said.

All the answers being arranged, he is to come forward and address a question in turn to each player, who is bound to give the answer confided to him by his neighbor. The result is often highly amusing, as the following will illustrate:

Charles.  What do you think of the Duke Alexis?

Maria.  With pepper and vinegar.

Charles.  Are you fond of dancing?

Ellen.  On the table.

Charles.  Do you like equestrian exercise?

Alexander.  Trimmed with point lace.

Charles.  What is your opinion of Tennyson?

Lucy.  Went skating, etc.

Charles.  Did you hear Miss Nillson at the Academy?

Gertie.  Ask papa.


One of the players, admitted to the secret of the game, retires to the hall or an adjoining room. All the rest conceal themselves from his sight, and the conductor of the game, having touched the article of dress of some one present, says:

"We are ready; are you?"


"Do you know how Lottie Edwards is dressed?"


"Do you know the color of her eyes?"


"The manner in which her hair is done up?"


"Good. Do you know how her sleeves are cut; the style of her collar?"


"Does Lottie wear ear-rings?"


"And a chain?"


"A sash?"


"In fact, you know all about her dress and adornments?"


"Her gloves; ribbon on her hair?"


"Does she wear a watch?"


"Well, as you know so much about Lottie's dress, tell me which of the articles mentioned I touched."

"You touched her chain"—that being the sole article to which the questioner had prefixed the conjunction and—the word of recognition for the initiated clairvoyant.


This is a most admirable parlor game, affording amusement and laughter for persons of all ages. The chairs are first arranged through the center of the room, and must number one less than the players participating in the game, each alternate chair to be reversed, viz: first chair at the north side of the room to face east, next chair immediately adjoining to face west, and so on. One of the party having volunteered to give "Jolly Brothers' Galop," or some other lively air on the piano, the line of march is taken up, old and young filing in measured steps up one side and down the other, around, the vacant chairs. Suddenly, just at the moment when the players least expect it, the music ceased abruptly, probably in the middle of a bar, which is the signal for each person to secure a seat. There being, however, one chair less than the participants in the game, a general scrimmage ensues for possession of a chair, one of the number, who is so unfortunate as to be left standing at this stage, withdrawing. Another chair is then removed, the music resumed, and the game goes on as before, till but two persons are left contesting for a single chair. It is amusing to note how carefully these two individuals move around this coveted prize, and how wistfully they glance at it, half halting in front thereof, expecting the notes from the pianoforte to be hushed just at that particular moment. Round and round they go—suddenly the music stops, one of the twain falls into the chair, and but one passenger is left out of the fifteen or twenty who started out together to "Go to Jerusalem."


This is a very popular game, joined in by young and old alike. The spokesman is supposed to own a vessel, to be laden with fruit, interrogating each player with the question, "What will you contribute toward the cargo?" The answer is to be made by naming some fruit, the initial letter of which must correspond with the initial letter of the surname of the party addressed. For instance, supposing Brown, Jones and Robinson are asked separately, the first would reply "Bananas," the second "Juniper-berries," and the third "Raisins." The names of birds or animals may be selected in the same manner. The person duplicating the answer of a previous player retires from the circle.


The rules of this game are not intricate. All the players standing up, take hold of the sides of a handkerchief. The chief player, taking hold with the rest, makes mystic circles on the handkerchief with his forefinger, exclaiming:

"Here we go round; when I say 'Hold fast,' let go; when I say 'Let go,' hold fast."

He then says "Let go," or "Hold fast," as he may feel inclined. When he says "Let go," those who do not hold fast pay forfeits; when he says "Hold fast," all who do not immediately let go are punished in like manner.


A very interesting game, and a popular one with persons of all ages. A postmaster having been selected, and a carrier, the latter person to be blindfolded, the game proceeds as follows: Players must be seated around the room, all chairs unoccupied to be removed. The postmaster then goes around the circle, and gives to each person the name of a post office, which, when called out, he is obliged to exchange seats with the person who corresponds with the other post office mentioned. Should either of these, when exchanging seats, be caught and identified by the postman, who is blindfolded, the person caught becomes postman. To illustrate, we will suppose that John has been chosen postmaster, and Jessie postman. John going around among the company will give to Carrie the post office of "Gossiptown;" to Thomas "Hardscrabble;" to Gertie "Switchbank," to Henry "Kiss-me-quick," to Florence "Flirt-town," to James "Squedunk," etc. The postmaster then calls out "Hardscrabble" and "Flirt-town." Thomas and Florence, whose seats are in opposite parts of the room, exchange seats with as little rustle as possible, so as not to give Jessie, the post-carrier, any clue to their position in the room. Should Thomas be caught before reaching his seat, the office of post-carrier is thrust upon him. Should neither one be caught in crossing the room, upon each being reseated, the postmaster calls out, "Posted."

To make this game the more interesting, the most comical post office addresses should be chosen, and the movements made promptly upon names of towns being called out.


A pair of scissors is passed from hand to hand—each player saying, as he presents them, "crossed and uncrossed, I pass these to you," open or shut, as he may choose.

In the first case the player must cross either his arms or feet carelessly, so as not to attract attention; in the second he must take care to keep them separate.

Many people, from the want of attention, are made to pay forfeits for a long time without knowing why, their surprise and perplexity being the chief amusement of the game.


As will be seen, the first letter in answer to the question of the leader, must correspond with the initial letter in the surname. For instance, we will suppose that a trio are playing, whose names are respectively Hattie Andrews, George Barnum and Nellie Carter. The following dialogue will illustrate:

Leader.  What do you love your love with?

Hattie.  With an A.

Leader.  Why?

Hattie.  Because he is Affectionate.

Leader.  What is his name?

Hattie.  Augustus.

Leader.  What will you give him?

Hattie.  I will give him an Amethyst.

Leader.  What will you feed him on?

Hattie.  Apple-tarts.

Leader.  What will you make him?

Hattie.  Make him a bouquet of Anemones.

To Georgie the leader next approaches, who replies, "Beautiful," "Bertie," "Brooch," "Berries," "Bluebells."

In answer to the questions of the leader, Nellie's responses, to provoke laughter, may be sarcastic, who loves her love with a C because he is "Cross," because his name is "Crab-apple;" will give him a "Cracker," will feed him on "Chalk," will make him a "Cheese-cake."

This game is more interesting where only the leader and one or two of the players are admitted into the secret of the responses. Should all know the secret, however, it requires some ingenuity to give prompt responses, failing in which, or giving an answer previously given, compels paying a forfeit. The leader can vary the game by selecting a letter for each player, which he only divulges upon questioning, thus preventing each one concocting an answer to the anticipated questions. 


A little girls' game in which any number can participate. The secret of this amusement is, to touch an article of your dress or adornment, which you bought, in reply to inquiry of girl on the left. Whoever fails to touch such article, or mention an item previously alluded to by any other player, must pay a forfeit. For example, we will suppose that seven girls, of eleven or twelve years of age, are seated in a semicircle in a parlor, participating in the game, the girl on the extreme left opening the dialogue:

Euphemia.  I've been shopping.

Carrie.  What did you buy?

Euphemia.  A sash. (Touching sash on her waist.)

Carrie.  I've been shopping.

Tillie.  What did you buy?

Carrie.  A pair of coral ear-rings. (Failing to touch ear-rings, pays a forfeit.)

Tillie.  I've been shopping.

Jessie.  What did you buy?

Tillie.  A bow. (Touching bow under her chin.)

Jessie.  I've been shopping.

Eliza.  What did you buy?

Jessie.  A collar. (Omits touching her collar.)

Eliza.  I've been shopping.

Blanche.  What did you buy?

Eliza.  A pair of lace undersleeves. (Touching same.)

Blanche.  I've been shopping.

Maggie.  What did you buy?

Blanche.  A watch-chain. (Touching chain attached to her breast-pin.)


This parlor game, like "Proverbs," and many others, is a test of skill between one player and all the rest; on his side to discover the word chosen; on theirs to render difficult such discovery by vague answers. For example, there are eight players engaged, exclusive of the questioner, who is to withdraw to the hall, when the others agree upon a word. Being summoned in, he attempts to solve the secret, by asking three questions of each player, as follows. The word chosen is Box.

Jasper.  How do you like it?

Phoebe.  Lined with satin.

Jasper.  When do you like it?

Phoebe.  When I feel sleepy.

Jasper.  Where do you like it?

Phoebe.  At the opera.

Andrew.  Strong; in December; behind a good team.

Mamie.  Full of jewels; in summer; on the lawn playing croquet.

Cora.  Made of gold; upon going to Saratoga; at the Academy.

Archie.  In the stable; in the engraver's room; on anybody else's head but my own.

Lillie.  About a foot high; with a silk dress in it; in grandma's pocket.

Frank.  With a pretty girl's picture in it; when the doctor carries it away; on election night.

Susie.  With a coral set; Christmas; at home.

It will be seen that box may be construed in various forms, as box on the stage-coach, box at the opera, box on the ear, snuff-box, box-wood, pill-box, jewel-box, Christmas-box, etc.


A most amusing game for children, and one productive of a good deal of laughter and merriment. All being seated, a boy and girl are selected to cry out the rules of the game; the first named personage to whisper in the ear of each player what he will give them, while the girl follows round in his footsteps and advises what to do with it, the gift being unknown to her. Each member of the party having been confidentially interviewed in this way, the real sport of the game becomes apparent, as will be seen from the following illustrations: 

Edward and Eva having been the rounds of the company, Eva now asks the first player what was given to her, Edward immediately inquiring what she was told to do with it. The replies are quite humorous.

Eva.  Hortense, what did Edward give you?

Hortense.  A pair of kid gloves.

Edward.  What did Eva tell you to do with them?

Hortense.  Told me to cook them.

Herbert.  Gave me a Canadian pony; told me to teach it the catechism.

Anna.  Gave me a wax doll; told me to send it on a begging expedition for the Chicago sufferers.

Sadie.  Gave me a Chickering piano; told me to bury it.

Ralph.  Gave me an invitation to Hattie's birth-day party; told me to wear it.

Jennie.  Gave me a gold watch; told me to box its ears.

Minnie.  Gave me a volume of Tennyson's poems; told me to teach it the "Lanciers."

Reuben.  Gave me a St. Bernard dog; told me to send it to Yale.

Addie.  Gave me an opera-cloak; told me to "rock it to sleep."

Katie.  Gave me a smoking-cap; told me to drown it.

Alice.  Gave me a kitten; told me to melt it.

Marian.  Gave me a cargo of buffalo-robes; told me to eat it.


A Birdcatcher is appointed. He forms the center of an admiring circle, each of the players, exclusive of the Birdcatcher, taking the name of a bird—as Canary, Nightingale, Raven, Eagle, Parrot, Wren, Duck, etc. The selection of species is a perfectly optional matter, with one exception—there must be an Owl in the collection.

The Birdcatcher tells a story—introducing the names of the various birds as often as possible. Every bird, when his name is mentioned, must immediately utter a sound peculiar to his species.

So long as the Owl is not mentioned, all the players sit with their hands in their laps. At the first mention of his name each player's hands must immediately be put behind his back, to avoid being caught by the Birdcatcher, who is on the watch. If, after having named the Owl, he succeed in seizing a hand not yet raised from the owner's lap, the individual so entrapped becomes Birdcatcher in his turn, his name and position being taken by the leader. If, on the contrary, the players are too quick for him, and he can not make a single capture, he continues his narrative. The birds, at the first name pronounced, replace their hands in their laps—not till then. When the Birdcatcher names "All the birds in the air," all utter their respective cries at once. Any bird neglecting to do so, or forgetting his identity, and uttering the cry of another bird, exchanges positions with the Birdcatcher, and tells the story.

The following is a list of the most available birds, with their various modes of expressing themselves:

The Canary.  "Pretty Dick."

The Turkey.  "Gobble-obble-obble."

The Magpie.  "Jack wants his dinner."

The Sparrow.  "Chip, chip."

The Duck.  "Quack, quack, quack!"

The Curlew.  "Pe-wit, pe-wit!"

The Parrot.  "Pretty Poll."

The Rooster.  "Cock-a-doodle-doo!"

The Nightingale.  "Shoo-fly." '(Sing a line therof.)'

The Crow.  "Caw, caw, caw!"

The Owl.  "To-whit, to-whit, to-whoo!"

The Goose.  "Hiss-s-s-s!"

The Raven.  "Cro-a-ak!" or "Nevermore!"

All preliminaries agreed on, the Birdcatcher commences his narrative something in the following manner:

"I went out on Long Island the other morning on a gaming expedition with my gun, game-bag and dog. I had no intention of violating the gaming laws, much less robbing a farm-yard, but just on the top of a rail-fence I saw a fine Rooster. ('Cock-a-doodle-doo!') There was nobody looking, and I couldn't resist it, when all of a sudden up came an enormous Turkey. ('Gobble-obble-obble!') 'Oh, oh!' said I, 'a Turkey!' '('Gobble-obble-obble!') Well, a Turkey ('Gobble-obble-obbe!') is worth rather more than a wretched Sparrow, ('Pretty Dick!')  And as I was looking at the Rooster ('Cock-a-doodle-doo!') Mrs. Goose (Hiss-s-s!') waddled up to the fence, followed by another Turkey. ('Gobble-obble-obble!')  All of a sudden a rascally Magpie ('Jack wants his dinner!') flew out of a bush, making such a noise that 'All the Birds in the Air' (General cry, without moving the hands) took flight at once. Off went the Turkey ('Gobble-obble-obble!') on one side, and Mr. Rooster ('Cock-a-doodle-doo!') on one side, and Mr. Rooster ('Cock-a-doodle-doo!') on the other, scattering a complete flock of Ducks. ('Quack! quack!')  There wasn't a single bird in sight, except an Owl. ('To-whit! to-whit! to-whoo! All hands up. The Birdcatcher endeavoring to catch the hand of some player before it is put behind his back. If a hand is caught, its owner becomes Birdcatcher; if not the old catcher continues.)

"As I was saying, the Owl (dead silence—all hands still up) suddenly began making such an extraordinary noise, no doubt thinking himself a Nightingale (the Nightingale sings a few bars from a familiar air, all hands down on their laps immediately) that All the Birds in the Air (general cry) flocked round again to see what could be the matter. Up came the Sparrow ('Chip! chip!') the Crow ('Caw! caw!') the Raven ('Croak!' or 'Nevermore!' as agreed on) the wild Duck ('Quack! quack!') even the farmer's Parrot; ('Pretty Poll!') in fact, All the Birds in the Field (dead silence). 'Oh! ho!' I said, 'what does all this mean?' when to my horror an Owl ('To-whit! to-whit! to-whoo!' All hands disappear as before. The Birdcatcher catches or doesn't catch, etc., etc.)

This game may be made any length, and to render it the more interesting, names of birds represented in the party should be of frequent occurrence in the narrative. Repetitions of a certain species is always allowable, being generally unforeseen by the person claiming the name, and seldom failing through this manner of catching a player. The Birdcatcher can substitute for "All the Birds in the Air," "All the Birds in the Field," or make any similar change, frequently enwrapping one of the party by this shrewd maneuver. 


Each player composes in his turn a bouquet of three different flowers, which he names aloud to the conductor of the game.

The conductor writes down the name of the flowers, adding to each the name of a person in the company—saying nothing to any one of such addition. He then inquires of the supposed manufacturer of the bouquet what she intends doing with the flowers she has chosen. She announces her intentions, whatever they may be, and the conductor applies them to the three persons whose names he has written. For example:

The Conductor.  Miss Amelia, have the kindness to choose three flowers.

Amelia.  The china-rose, the dahlia and the japonica-camellia.

Conductor.  I have taken note of them carefully. Now tell me what you mean to do with the rose?

Amelia.  I will put it in water.

Conductor.  And the dahlia?

Amelia.  I will throw it out of the window.

Conductor.  And the camellia?

Amelia.  I will wear it in my waistband till it dies.

Conductor.  Good. You have put Mr. Jenkins in water, thrown Mr. Thompson out of the window, and must wear Mr. Jones in your waistband till he dies.


This is a game of memory, in which you pay forfeits for mistakes, and also for laughing.

The players sit in a circle. One begins by saying, solemnly: "One old ox opening oysters."

Everybody repeats this.

Then she begins again: "One old ox opening oysters; two toads totally tired out trotting to Tewkesbury."

This goes round the circle.

The next repetition is: "One old ox opening oysters; two toads totally tired trotting to Tewkesbury; three time tigers taking tea."

This is repeated round the circle, always beginning at "One old ox," and adding a number each time, as follows:

"Four fat friars fishing for frogs."

"Five fairies finding fire flies."

"Six soldiers shooting snipe."

"Seven salmon sailing in Solway."

"Eight elegant engineers eating excellent eggs."

"Nine nimble noblemen nibbling nonparella."

"Ten tall tinkers tantalizing ten turkeys."

"Eleven electors eating early endive."

"Twelve tremendous tale-tellers telling truth."


This is a game of forfeits, which are paid for every mistake made by the player in repeating words. The company sit in a circle, and the player who is chosen to begin, says, "A good fat hen." Each person in the circle repeats this, one after the other; then the leader begins again, "Two ducks, and a good fat hen," which is repeated separately by all the players. She continues, "Three wild geese, two ducks, and a good fat hen." This is repeated. 

The next sentence is, "Four plump partridges, three wild geese, two ducks, and a good fat hen."

Repeated separately by all.

Leader.  Five pouting pigeons, four plump partridges, three wild geese, two ducks, and a good fat hen.

Repeating by all separately.

Leader.  Six long-legged cranes, five pouting pigeons, four plump partridges, three wild geese, two ducks, and a good fat hen.

Repeated by all.

Leader.  Seven green parrots, six long-legged cranes, five pouting pigeons, four plump partridges, three wild geese, two ducks, and a good fat hen.

Repeated by all; every mistake to incur a forfeit.

Leader.  Eight screeching owls, seven green parrots, six long-legged cranes, five pouting pigeons, four plump partridges, three wild geese, two ducks, and a good fat hen.

Repeated, with forfeits.

Leader.  Nine ugly turkey-buzzards, eight screeching owls, seven green parrots, six long-legged cranes, five pouting pigeons, four plump partridges, three wild geese, two ducks, and a good fat hen.

This is all repeated separately. If any one makes a mistake or leaves out a word, she pays a forfeit.


This is another of those standard games which will ever prove popular in a social party, and one which will never fall into disfavor—a source of amusement to young and old alike. It is essential, however, to give increased novelty and interest to this game, that the person selected to rehearse the adventures of the "old stage-coach," should be familiar in a degree with the class of persons who "stage" it back in the country, embellishing his story with laughable incidents. Enthusiasm will be manifested, also, by the story-teller introducing into his narrative as frequently as possible the name or character allotted to the various members of the party.

Having assigned to the persons present the personation of one of the characters in the coach, or the name designating any paraphernalia common to harness or stage, the leader commences his story, each person arising and turning around when the name he has adopted is mentioned in the course of the narrative, and all changing seats when Stage-coach is mentioned.

"It was a sultry August afternoon when my Chum (rises and turns around once) and your humble servant exchanged seats in the cars at Colliers, for the Box (rises and revolves) on top of the old Stage. (Rises and revolves.) In a few moments we were rolling toward the beautiful Susquehanna valley, Sambo, (rises, etc.) our colored friend, who was perched on top of a trunk, enjoying the accidental raps he occasionally received from the Whip (rises, etc.) or from protruding branches which skirted the roadside.

"We had jogged along for four or five miles, a gingham Umbrella (rises and revolves) protecting us from the sun, when we halted in front of an old country tavern. The Driver (rises, etc.) dismounted from the Box, (revolves) threw the Reins (rises) carelessly down, and proceeded to water the jaded Horses. (Rises.) Just at this juncture the Animals, (rises) becoming frightened, pawed and reared; the Old Woman (rises) with the spectacles put her head out of the Stage, (rises) startled with fright; the Whiffletree (rises) became loosened, our English Friend (rises) scrambled to the ground and our inexhaustible humorist, Joe Jot Jr., (rises) tumbled out and rescued all the other Passengers (rises). Taking in at a glance the impending danger, my Chum, (rises, etc.) wishing to rob the coroner of his fees, slid down to the ground with the aid of a Strap, (rises) Sambo (rises) and myself quickly following. Just then the Horses (rises) started on a galop, and colliding with an old buttonwood tree down the road, the Front Wheel (rises) broke, the Spokes (rises) were shattered, the Tugs (turns) snapped, the Pole (turns) flew off, and the Stage-door (turns) swung back and forth; the Horses (turns) suddenly slipped and fell, and the old Stage-Coach (all rise and change seats, the story-teller endeavoring to secure one also; the player so unfortunate as to be left standing telling the next story).


This is a jolly game, and if carried out to the letter, persons present will become convulsed with laughter. All participants must retire to the hall but two of the players; one of these is supposed to receive callers, and must repeat the questions of the caller, mimic her tone and imitate her actions as exactly as possible; the other who remains in the parlor calls in each girl separately, places a reception-chair for her, and if the new-comer is inclined to be silent, provokes her to ask questions of the hostess. As soon as the caller becomes so convulsed with laughter as to make further conversation inexpedient, she vacates the reception-chair for the next victim, and contributes her aid toward drawing out the next unsuspecting caller.


A very simple game, in which all the players place a finger on a table, or on the knees of the conductor of the game, to be raised in the air when the conductor says, "Birds fly," "Pigeons—or any winged object in natural history—fly."

If he names a non-winged animal, and any player raises his hand in distraction, the latter pays a forfeit—the same in case of his neglecting to raise it at the name of a bird or winged insect. 


The little girls sit in a circle; one holds a pen, pencil, flower—or, in fact, any thing that she can get—in her hand and presenting it to the next player, says, "Take this."

Ada.  What's this?

Bella.  A hatchet.

Ada.  Did you make it?

Bella.  Hush! (This word is said very impressively, with the finger raised.)

The second player then takes the pen, etc., and says to her neighbor, "Take this."

Carrie.  What's this?

Ada.  A hatchet.

Carrie.  Did you buy it?

Ada.  Hush!

Now, the second player should mimic exactly the tone of voice in which the hush is said, and the raising of the finger, or she pays a forfeit. Any person smiling during this game also pays a forfeit.

When the hatchet has gone round the circle, it is returned—with the same words—to Bella, who then begins again:

Bella.  Take this.

Ada.  What's this?

Bella.  A hatchet.

Ada.  Did you find it?

Bella.  (Louder and more emphatically than the first time.) Hush!


This goes round the circle. When Bella begins again, the questions and answers run thus:

Bella.  Take this.

Ada.  What's this?

Bella.  A hatchet.

Ada.  Did you steal it?

Bella. (Very loud.) HUSH!

This is the last time of sending it round; but as the tone of voice and raised finger are frequently forgotten, and the game is one which tends to excite laughter from its absurdity, the three times round will generally produce a good supply of forfeits.


This is a very old and well-known game. The players sit in a circle and count, beginning at one and going on to a hundred, which must, if possible, be reached. But the number "seven" must not be mentioned, Buz being substituted for it.

For instance, the players say alternately, "one," "two," "three," "four," "five," "six;" the seventh exclaims, "Buz;" the others go on, "eight," "nine," "ten," "eleven," "twelve," "thirteen," "Buz,"—because twice seven make fourteen—"fifteen," "sixteen," "Buz," for seventeen, "eighteen," "nineteen," "twenty," "Buz," because three times seven are twenty-one.

Thus Buz is said whenever a seven is named, or a number out of the line of seven times in the multiplication-table, as fourteen, twenty-one, twenty-eight, thirty-five, forty-two, forty-nine, fifty-six, sixty-three, seventy, seventy-seven, eighty-four. When the players reach seventy-one, they must say "Buz one," "Buz two," etc.

Buz is to be said for every seven, or number in "seven times."

Any one breaking this rule is out of the game—i.e., sits silent.

This game must be played quickly, and it will be found that Buz will so often be forgotten in its right place that the circle, or number of players, will continually diminish, till it ends sometimes only in a pair. 

And, as after every blunder the count begins again at one, it is a matter of some difficulty to reach a hundred. We recommend this game as a very merry and pleasant one.


One player personates a lawyer. The others choose partners, and sit down in pairs in two rows facing each other. The lawyer walks down the rows, and asks a question of any one whom she pleases. The question must be answered by the partner of the one addressed. If she inadvertently replies herself, she has to pay a forfeit. 

Example:  Ada is Lawyer; Mabel and Charles, Mary and Anna, Fanny and Edith, Edward and Anthony are partners.

Ada.  Mabel, what is your opinion of Tennyson's "Queen of the May"?

Charley.  She prefers the nursery rhyme, "Four and twenty Blackbirds."

Mabel.  Oh, Charley!

Ada.  Pay a forfeit, Mabel, for speaking. Edith, are you fond of flowers?

Fanny.  She likes plum pudding better. (Edith is silent.)

Ada.  Mary, do you think your hair very pretty?

Anna.  She is not so silly.

Ada.  Edward, whom do you think the greatest man in profane history?

Anthony.  Oliver Cromwell.

Edward.  Oh, Anthony! you know I detest him. I am a regular Cavalier.

Ada.  Please pay two forfeits for such a long speech!

The fun of this game is the way in which the partners try the patience of those who are obliged to be silent, by answering absurdly for them. Also, it is difficult, as the game progresses, to keep from answering a question directly addressed to oneself.


A very old game. One player stands on a stool in the midst of her play fellows, representing in her own person that mysterious grandee the Grand Mufti.

She makes any motions which she pleases, such as lifting her arms, extending her hand, sighing, putting her hand to her head, etc., in fact, any kind of absurd gesture, saying at the same time, "Thus does the Grand Mufti!" or "So does the Grand Mufti!" Now, these two words, "thus" and "so," make the game; for when she says, "Thus does," etc., every one must make just the same gesture, or do the same thing; but when she says, "So does the Grand Mufti," no one must imitate her: if any player does, she pays a forfeit.

It requires great attention and quickness not to get confused by the game as it quickens, and thus to make mistakes.


Nellie.  Come, girls, let us have another game.

Ida.  What will it be?

Hattie.  The "Hidden Word." Do you know how to play it?

Nellie.  Yes; one of us must go out of the room; the others fix upon a word. Then we call the outside party in, and say: "We have fixed upon a word; can you guess it?"

Stella.  That sounds as if it would be a capital game. Hattie, you might go out in the hall first, because you know how to play it. (Hattie withdraws to the hall.)

Nellie.  This game resembles "Proverbs," differing there-from only by all of us adopting the same word. Hattie will ask each one a question, after we have agreed upon a word; and we are bound, by the rules of the game, to introduce it into our answers. We must be careful, however, not to emphasize it.

Minnie.  What word shall we take?

Stella.  "Hope."

Nellie.  No; that would be too difficult to introduce into an answer, and therefore too easy for Hattie. Let us take some common word, which would not excite her attention.

Ida.  Would not the conjunction "but" be appropriate?

Nellie.  Yes, that would be a capital one, and, if it is agreed, we will adopt it. Won't you call Hattie in, Lizzie? (Enter Hattie.)

Hattie.  Are you fond of vocal music, Ida?

Ida.  Passionately so; but prefer standard ballads and melodies.

Hattie.  How many colors are there, Emma?

Emma.  Seven, I believe; but there are a great many more shades and tints.

Hattie.  Did you enjoy your trip to the Catskill mountains last summer, Minnie?

Minnie.  Very much; but why didn't you come up? We looked for you.

Hattie.  Stella, can you make wax flowers?

Stella.  Am taking lessons therein; but can at present only make a few simple petals and leaves.

Hattie.  How many feet has a spider, Lizzie?

Lizzie.  Never learned; but why ask me?—consult a naturalist.

Hattie.  Won't you favor us with "Alpenlieder" on the piano, Nellie?

Nellie.  Would be pleased to; but prefer to hear you play "Crown of Diamonds."

The member of the party first giving a clue to the word chosen, on being indicated by the questioner, retires, and the game proceeds as before. This pastime may be made most entertaining for children or young people, adults also participating in it with a good deal of zest. A good parlor game, promptness and ingenuity being the prime requisites in framing replies.


Half the company leave the room. While they are absent, the others fix on a verb which the absent ones are to guess and perform. By and by, when their decision is made, they call in the leader of the outside party, and say: "The verb we have chosen for you rhymes with pie"—or any other word chosen. The leader retires, and discusses with her followers what the word can be. It is best to take those which will rhyme with the noun given, in alphabetical order "Buy" would come first for "pie."

The party enter and begin to buy of each other. If right—that is, if "to buy" was the word chosen—the spectators clap their hands; if wrong, they hiss. Speech on either side would entail a forfeit. If hissed, the actors retire, and arrange what next to do.

"Cry" would be the next rhyme, or "dye," or "eye," or "fly," or "hie," or "sigh," or "tie," all of which are acted in turn, till the clap of approval announces that the guess is a successful one. Then the spectators go out, and become in their turn actors, in the same manner.

A great deal of the fun of this game depends on the acting and on the choice of the verbs; but it is almost sure to cause great amusement.


One player asks all the others in turn what her thought was like. They answer at random, of course. When all have said what they think it is like, the thinker tells them what her thought was, and requires them to tell her in what way it resembles the object they named. If the person whose turn it is can not find a likeness between the two things, she must pay a forfeit.

Ada.  Nora, what is my thought like?

Honora.  Like a whip.

Ada.  (Separately to each player.) What is my thought like?

Mary.  Like a nail.

Anna.  Like a star.

Fanny.  Like a postage-stamp.

Charley.  Like a bear.

Anthony.  Like a bee.

Edith.  Like the steamship "City of Brooklyn."

Mabel.  Like a railway.

Ada.  My thought was "The Duke Alexis." Why is he like a whip, Honora?

Honora.  Oh! because—because he can make himself be obeyed.

Ada.  Why is the Grand Duke like a nail, Mary?

Mary.  (Laughing.) Because he had a 'head' and is of great use.

Ada.  Why is the Duke like a star?

Anna.  Because people look up to him.

Ada.  Why is Alexis like a postage-stamp?

Fanny.  Oh, dear, Ada! that is dreadfully hard. Do, some one, help me.

Charley.  Because he's worth a penny.

Fanny.  Oh, that won't do!

Anthony.  Because he shows a royal countenance.

Ada.  That will do. Now, Charley, why is the Grand Duke like a bear?

Charley.  Because he was capable of being taught to dance.

Ada.  That is so bad that I really will have a forfeit. Now, Anthony, why is he like a bee?

Anthony.  Because he is a good subject.

Ada.  Why is Alexis like the steamship?

Edith.  I don't know—oh stay! Because he has crossed the Atlantic.

Ada.  Why is the Grand Duke like a railway, Mabel?

Mabel.  Because—because—oh, indeed I can't tell! so here is my forfeit.


A screen must be placed at the end of the room; behind it is put a cheval glass and a light. The showman stands before the screen, and offers to exhibit his wild animals to any person who will promise not to describe what he has seen when he comes out. Then the person who gives the promise and demands admittance, is asked what animal he wishes to see. On his naming one, the showman proceeds to describe it. The description should be very witty, and should have some application—either complimentary or satirical—to the person to see the show. The person is then admitted, and is shown himself in the looking-glass. 


Make a large bag of thin white paper—silver paper will do; fill it with sugar-plums, and tie a string round the top to keep it fast. Then suspend it from the ceiling, or from a large door-frame, and provide a long, light stick. Each little player is blindfolded in turn, and the stick put into her hand. She is then led within reach of the bag, and told to strike it. If she succeeds in her aim and tears a hole in it, the sugar plums are scattered on the floor, and the little ones scramble for them; but it is by no means easy to strike a suspended object blindfolded; generally many attempts are made unsuccessfully. Each player is allowed three trials.

If the giver of the bag pleases, small gifts may be put in it, tiny books, pin-cushions, dolls' bonnets, etc., etc., with the sugar-plums.

This is a pleasing game for very young children.


This game is suited for the elder children of the family, as it requires a little judgment in the selection of an extract or story to be filled in. 

Ada, Mabel and the other children are seated round a table. Ada has been chosen as "President of the Board of Trade," in which distinguished position she holds a pencil in her hand, and has a book and paper lying before her ready for use.

Ada.  I will read to you the trades you have each chosen:

Fanny.  Doll Merchant.

Anna.  Perfumer.

Mary.  Baker.

Charley.  Bookseller.

Edward.  Stationer.

Honora.  Seedsman.

Edith.  Fishmonger.

Mabel.  Pastrycook.

Jessy.  Milliner.

Anthony.  Grocer.

Now I am going to write an extract from this book, "Jesse's Gleanings." Every now and then I shall point my pencil at one of you; then you must give me a noun which belongs to your trade, and I shall insert it in the place of nouns in the book, of which I am only allowed to keep five. If, when I read my extract, it makes nonsense in your opinion, you will each pay a forfeit. You will also pay a forfeit for slow answers and for giving nouns which do not belong to your trades. Now I shall begin.

Ada wrote a few words, and then pointed her pencil at Fanny, who replied "Dolls;" Honora gave Heliotrope; Anna, Perfume; Edith, Bluefish; Mary, Hot rolls; Jessy, Jockey; Mabel, French pie; Charley, Library; Edward, Ream of folio-post; Anthony, Loaf of sugar.

"Now," said Ada, "you shall hear our extract, and judge whether you think it on the whole instructive or amusing. If it is either, we pay no forfeit." And she read:

"It is a curious and extraordinary fact that Dolls are nowhere to be found in Heliotrope. One would think that Perfume was particularly well suited for Bluefish, as I have frequently observed them to be most numerous in Hot rolls; at least the case in some Jockey hats in Boston, where they were exceedingly numerous, and made larger French pies than I have seen in any other Library. A Ream of folio-post and a Loaf of sugar are sometimes found in the next of the mole."


The conductor of this game is called the Merchant. He gives to the different players any name he likes, consisting of simple words, such as:

1. Jack; 2. How Much; 3. What; 4. Too Much; 5. Bravo; 6. Five Dollars; 7. Dollar and a Half; 8. Eighteen Pence; 9. Good; 10. Nonsense.

The game is carried on in dialogue, commencing with the Merchant, in the following manner:

Merchant.  Jack!

Player No. 1.  Yes, Merchant.

Merchant.  What's the price of wheat?

No. 1.  Five dollars.

Merchant.  Good!

No. 9.  Yes.

Merchant.  What's the price of wheat?

No. 9.  Eighteen pence.

Merchant.  Eighteen pence! Nonsense!

Nos. 8 and 10.  (Together.) Yes, Merchant.

Merchant.  How much?

No. 2.  Yes, Merchant.

Merchant.  What's the price of wheat?

No. 2.  Dollar and a half! Bravo! Jack!

Nos. 7, 5 and 1. (Together.) Yes, Merchant.

Merchant.  What's the price of wheat?

Nos. 7,5 and 1. (Together.) Dollar and a half—Five dollars—Eighteen pence.

Merchant.  Nonsense!

No. 10.  Yes, Merchant, etc., etc.

It will be seen by the above, that the duty of each player is to answer, "Yes, Merchant," on hearing the leader pronounce his adopted name. If he neglect this, he pays a forfeit.


If only two or three in a company of fifteen or twenty are familiar with this game, it will proceed for some time to the extreme mystification of the others. The secret is to omit the letter "E" from the reply you make to the questioner. As for instance:

Arthur.  We are going to get up a famous dinner for Uncle Zeb, but he doesn't like barley soup. What will you substitute for it, Ada?

Ada.  Vegetable.

Arthur.  Would not suit. But what kind of fish will you furnish, Sadie?

Sadie.  Salmon.

Arthur.  A favorite dish of my esteemed uncle. What kind of meat or poultry will you send in, Eugene?

Eugene.  A brace of tender spring chickens.

Arthur.  A tempting offer, but must reject it. What vegetables will you give, Amanda?

Amanda.  Potatoes and celery.

Arthur.  Neither of which agrees with his palate. Now, Warren.

Warren.  Squash and corn.

Arthur.  Each of these he will accept. And what else, Daisy?

Daisy.  Pickles and chow-chow.

Arthur.  He will take the latter but not the former. But what kind of pudding will you give him for dessert, Lizzie?

Lizzie.  Plum-pudding.

Arthur.  Which he always enjoys hugely. And in the fruit line, what do you give, Celia?

Celia.  Grapes and raisins.

Arthur.  For obvious reasons he will take only the latter. But won't you give some nuts, Harry?

Harry.  Hickory nuts.

Arthur.  Which will suit the old gentleman exceedingly; and, notwithstanding his peculiar taste and whims, we will be able to furnish him with a tempting ovation from the various contributions of his nephews and nieces.


A most interesting game, taxing the memory, and enjoyable for a small or large company. In giving an answer, the verbs and nouns thereof must commence with the letter assigned to each player, whether it be "A" "B" or any other.

Mary.  I am going on a trip to Atlanta.

Ada.  What shall you do there?

Mary.  Ask for Aunt Alice.

Ada.  (To her next-door neighbor.) I am going to Huston.

Mabel.  What will you do there?

Ada.  Buy a blue bonnet.

Mabel.  I am gong to Chicago.

Jessy.  What will you do there?

Mabel.  Collect curiosities.

Jessy.  I am going to Dry Pond.

Anna.  What will you do there?

Jessy.  Deal in diamonds.

Anna.  I am going to Easton.

Maud.  What will you do there?

Anna.  Experiment with edge-tools.

Maud.  I am going to the Falls.

Jane.  What will you do there?

Maud.  Frolic with cousin Frank.

Jane.  I am going to Germany.

Emma.  What will you do there?

Jane.  Grumble at the giant.

Emma.  I am going to Harper's Ferry.

Edith.  What will you do there?

Emma.  Hunt for hazel-nuts.

Edith.  I am going to Iowa.

Carrie.  What will you do there?

Edith.  Interview the Indians.

Carrie.  I am going to Jericho.

Agnes.  What will you do there?

Carrie.  Jingle jewsharps.

Agnes.  I am going to Kamschatka.

Fanny.  What will you do there?

Agnes.  Kiss a kruba.

Fanny.  I am going to Louisiana.

Cora.  What will you do there?

Fanny.  Look for luxuries.

Cora.  I am going to Marseilles.

Hattie.  What will you do there?

Cora.  Make up a menagerie.

Hattie.  I am going to New York.

Tillie.  What will you do there?

Hattie.  Nap in the Narrows.

Tillie.  I am going to Oyster Bay.

Ella.  What will you do there?

Tillie.  Open an orange-depot.

Ella.  I am going to Philadelphia.

Lizzie.  What will you do there?

Ella.  Pawn away poverty.

Lizzie.  I am going to Quebec.

Bertha.  What will you do there?

Lizzie.  Quiz my quarter-cousins.

Bertha.  I am going to Richmond.

Minnie.  What will you do there?

Bertha.  Reform raw-boned rangers.

Minnie.  I am going to St. Louis.

Lucy.  What will you do there?

Minnie.  Sharpen scissors.

Lucy.  I am going to Turkey.

Alice.  What will you do there?

Lucy.  Tame turbulent Tartars.

Alice.  I am going to Utica.

Amy.  What will you do there?

Alice.  Utilize uproarious urchins.

Amy.  I am going to Virginia.

Rosa.  What will you do there?

Amy.  View a beautiful valley.

Rosa.  I am going on a journey into Wales.

Julia.  What will you do there?

Rosa.  Wrap up wax-dolls.

Julia.  I am going to Yellow Creek.

Sarah.  What will you do there?

Julia.  (Laughing) Yawn in a yacht.

Sarah.  I am going to Zanesville.

Flora.  What will you do there?

Sarah.  Zigzag with zebras.


A word is fixed upon to which all the players in succession have to express a rhyme in dumb show.

We will suppose the word given to be Root.

The first player elevates his foot, tugging at the air, and making faces of pain, as if undergoing the agony of pulling on a tight Boot.

The second points an imaginary gun to Shoot.

The third looks sentimentally up at a picture-frame, as to a lady's casement, and, assuming the aspect of a despondent lover, appears to be playing a Lute.

The fourth makes violent and angry faces, thumping his palm as if in the height of a Dispute.

The fifth turns his shirt-collar down, rocks his chair back, and winks knowingly, by way of indicating that he is Cute.

The sixth twists up a roll of paper, and puts it up to his mouth, making the grimaces usually attendant on the early studies of the Flute, etc., etc.

The amusement of the game, of course, depends on the nature of the rhymes selected by the players, and their powers of expressing them humorously.

Forfeits may be exacted for imperfect or badly-expressed rhymes.


All the players seat themselves in a circle, one of them being supplied with that peculiar species of toy known as a "whistle." One of the players, fixed on to officiate, stands up in the center. The holder of the toy then whistles with it in a direction where the leader is not looking. The latter turns quickly round to detect, and, if possible, to seize the instrument from the player. The latter, however, passes the toy to another, and while the leader is watching eagerly to detect it, hears it sounded in an opposite direction, and so on, sounding it whenever the leader's attention is attracted elsewhere. If the leader succeed in detecting a player, and seizing the toy from him, they change places—the detected person becoming leader in his turn.


A most interesting and popular game for either young people or adults to participate in, requiring the exercise of the memory. One of the party withdraws to the hall, while the others select a word which must belong either to the animal, vegetable or mineral kingdom. The questioner is entitled to ask twenty questions of the players, to each of which they are bound to answer "Yes," or "No," or decline; if they decline to answer one question, the questioner is entitled to ask an other in its stead. Supposing the word selected be the "Telegraph," at a signal the questioner enters the parlor, and, commencing with the person on the left, asks:

"Does it belong to the animal kingdom?"  "No."

"Is it vegetable?"  "No."

"Have I ever seen it?"  "Yes."

"Can I feel it in my pocket?"  "No."

"Can it buy any thing."  (Rejected.)

"Is it in this house?"  "No."

"In the street?"  "Yes."

"On the sidewalk?"  "No."

"Does it cross the street?"  "Yes."

"Does it move very quickly?"  "Yes."

"Is it used on railways?"  "Yes."

"Does it pull you along?"  "No."

"Is it very large?"  "No."

"Is it very thin?"  "Yes."

"Is it round?"  "Yes."

"The Telegraph."

This game may be made very entertaining by readiness and intelligence in the players.


Let one of the party suddenly ask, "Can anybody put one of his hands in such a position that the other can not by any possibility touch it?" As there is but one such position—namely, clasping the elbow—a good deal of fun may by got out of the various and often clumsy attempts to find it out.


A poor, honest, hard-working woodman—doubtless with a wife and six small children to support—appears with a load of wood to sell. The poor fellow is anxious to thrive in business, but, as may be expected from his humble origin, is thoroughly ignorant of book-keeping. The only account he can manage to keep is a small memorandum—which he makes on a piece of paper or card before entering the market—of the particular species of wood he has to sell. This may be any thing—oak, cherry, mahogany—in short, what he pleases.

He is anxious to get home, and, therefore, looks out for a customer as soon as possible, and addresses the first person he meets with the inquiry:

"Do you want a bundle of wood?"


"I have got one to sell."

"What sort of wood?"


This is not very polite; but what are manners to an honest heart? The intending purchaser is considerate enough to think of this, and, instead of feeling offended, names a species of wood. If this should not happen to be the right one—that is, the one the woodman had previously fixed on—the toil-worn laborer goes on to the next person, and so on, till he can find some one to relieve him of his load by guessing the identical timber, and changing places with him, which the too-successful guesser is compelled to do.

The new woodman goes his round like the previous one. The repetition of a wood already named is forbidden.

If the woodman has gone the entire round of the company without the fatal guess having been made, he begins again at the beginning, with the same name inscribed on his card.


Two of the tallest players go aside and settle which of the pair shall be called "Orange" and which "Lemon;" but their respective names must not be known to the others.

Then they join hands, and raising their arms as high as they possibly can, sing:

"'Oranges and lemons,'

Say the bells of St. Clement's.

Here comes a candle to light you to bed.

And here comes a hatchet to chop off your head."

While they sing, the other children, holding each other round the waist, run under their upstretched arms. At the word "head," which they manage to sing just as the last child of the train passes, they drop their arms and catch her round the neck. She is then taken on one side and asked in a whisper whether she will be an orange or a lemon. If she chooses an orange, she is told to go behind the young girl who calls herself by that name, and to take hold of her by the waist. If she should choose to be a lemon, she is to take hold of the girl so named. But the choice must always be declared in a whisper, or the others would know who was "orange" and who was "lemon." Then the pair reunite their hands, raise their arms, and begin the chant again, cutting off a head and gaining a follower every time, till not one of the chain of players is left. Every time a child is caught, she has to choose between the orange and lemon, and is sent behind her choice, putting her arms round the waist of the last of the orange or lemon followers.

When all have chosen, it is generally found that each fruit—orange and lemon—has a good train of supporters behind her; though, of course, it will sometimes chance that one has more than the other, as the liking may have set toward either oranges or lemons.


The names of great authors of the United States, England, France, Germany and Italy are put into a bag. Each player draws a name, reads it, and must instantly repeat the title of one of the same author's works. If he or she hesitates, any other player who can remember a title repeats it. The puzzled player must instantly pay a counter to the one who spoke first.

At the end of the game, the one who has most counters wins.


The players form a circle, and take the names of articles used at the tea-table. Tea begins. She turns round rapidly, saying, "I turn Tea, who turns Sugar?" Fanny, who is Sugar, then begins to turn round, saying, "I turn Sugar, who turns Milk?"

Ada.  I turn Milk, who turns Cream?

Anna.  I turn Cream, who turns Hot Water?

Mabel, who is Hot Water, forgets to turn, and pays a forfeit.

Mabel.  I turn Hot Water, who turns Biscuit?

Edith.  I do. Who turns Butter?

Mary.  A forfeit, Edith. You must say the exact words.

Edith.  There it is; but who turns Butter?

Charley.  I turn Butter. Who turns Jelly-cake?

Anthony.  I turn Jelly-cake, who turns Raspberry Jam?

Edward.  I turn Raspberry Jam; and now we are all turning round like teetotums! When may we stop, Ada?

Ada.  Not till I say, "Take away the tea."

So the revolving tea-table articles continued their revolutions for some seconds, till Ada clapped her hands and cried, "Take away the tea," when they all sat down in their chairs again.


This game, although only two persons are engaged in it at a time, furnishes much amusement, from the contradictory nature of its words and actions. The rules relative to it are as follows:  When the questioner desires the respondent to be seated, the latter must stand up; when he begs him to put his hat on, he must take it off; when he requests him to stand, he must sit; and in every point the respondent must take especial care to do always the very reverse of what the questioner wishes him.

These rules being settled, the game is simply this:  one player places a hat on his head, takes a young lady's hat in his hand, and gives it to one of the company; he then begins conversing with her, endeavoring both by words and actions to puzzle her as much as he can, so as to cause her to pay a forfeit.

Allie.  (Taking his ht off.) A very beautiful evening, Bessie.

Bessie.  (Putting her hat on.) Yes, indeed, a most lovely night.

Allie.  (Putting his hat on, and sitting down, Bessie instantly taking hers off and getting up.) Pray be seated, Bessie, I really can not think of sitting while you stand. (Gets up and Bessie sits down.) Have you been on a visit to your Aunt Polly's recently? (Takes off his hat.)

Bessie.  (Putting hers on.) I have not yet, but I think I shall before (Allie sits down, Bessie gets up) the season is over.

Allie.  (Putting his hat on.) Excuse me, you are standing while I am sitting; pardon me, your hat is on—you must pay a forfeit. (The next player taking her place and the hat.)


One of the company takes her seat on a low stool in front of the rest of her companions, who, with the exception of one called the "leader," are seated in a semicircle.

The leader goes round the circle, and makes a memorandum of some gift each player is to contribute to the person seated on the stool, whom we will call Myra. Addressing her he says:

"Myra, your friends have each given you a gift. 'Bryant's poems,' 'Parchesi board,' 'photograph album,' 'pair of skates,' etc. Can you guess from whom you received the parchesi board?"

Myra.  Laura.

Joseph.  No; who gave you Bryant's poems?

Myra.  Arthur.

Joseph.  No; who gave you the beautiful skates?

Myra.  Cousin Ella.

Joseph.  Yes. Now, Ella, you will have to take Myra's place, and each one will give you a present, the donor to be guessed in same manner.


All the players adopt the names of various articles connected with a lady's toilet—as Collar, Ear-rings, Gloves, Watch, Handkerchief, etc., etc.

A circle is formed of chairs, one less than the number of players—one of whom is consequently without a seat. This person, after having assigned to each member of the party an article of adornment for her aunt's outfit, provides herself with a plate, and advances to the center of the room.

Grace.  Aunt Sue is going to a concert, and wants her Fan. (Spins the plate.)

As Grace pronounces the word, she gives the plate a vigorous twist, and leaves it spinning on the carpet. Bertie to whom was assigned the word Fan, immediately darts from her seat—which is taken by the spinner—so as to catch the plate while spinning. Should it fall to the ground before she reaches it, she pays a forfeit.

Bertie.  Aunt Sue is going to the opera "Martha," and would like her Opera-glass. (Spins the plate.)

Rosie.  Aunt Sue is going to a promenade concert, and is making her Toilet.

This is a signal for all to change places, the speaker attempting to secure one of the vacant chairs. The player left standing becomes leader in turn.


The first player writes an adjective on the upper part of a slip of paper, and then folds the slip so that the written word can not be seen by the next player, who writes the name of a gentleman, real or imaginary, on the paper, which he passes to another after having folded it over again. The third player writes an adjective; the fourth, a lady's name; the fifth, the name of a place; the sixth, what the gentleman said to the lady; the seventh, the lady's reply; the eighth, the consequences; and the ninth, what the world said about the whole affair.

One of the players now unfolds the slip and reads what has been written by the different persons engaged in the game, adding a few words to unite the disjointed members of the little narrative. As a specimen of the ludicrous result which arises from each player's ignorance of what has been written by his companions, we give the following pathetic tale:

"The ill-favored Peter Wilkins met the adorable Jenny Jones at the Grand Duke ball. He said to her, 'Will you love me then as now?' and she replied, 'When did I refuse you any thing?' The consequences were, he drowned himself in the East river, and she married the baker, and the world said, 'Served them right!'"


The players decide on dressing a lady, but first they prohibit the mention of green, yellow, blue and pink.

The question asked is, "How will you dress my lady?" Each player has to answer it and to dress the lady without mentioning the prohibited colors. Example:

Ada.  Mary, how will you dress my lady?

Mary.  In a white tarlatan dress.

Mabel.  With black ribbons.

Charley.  A wreath on her head of roses.

Ada.  What color?

Charley.  A beautiful pink.

Ada.  Thank you. A forfeit, please.

Edith.  She shall have white gloves and bracelets.

Ada.  And no shoes?

Edith.  Yes, a nice pair of white shoes.

Ada.  Shall she have a bouquet?

Anna.  Yes, and a fan.

Ada.  Of what color?

Anna.  Black.

Ada.  A black bouquet? That can not be. What color shall the flowers be?

Anna.  White camellias without leaves.

Ada.  Fanny, what shawl shall she wear?

Fanny.  A Cashmere.

Ada.  What color?

Fanny.  Green; no, stay! yellow.

Ada.  Both are prohibited; pay a forfeit.

And thus the game goes on.


The leader of the game commences it by saying, she apprenticed her son to a tailor, a shoemaker, a grocer, or any other trade she pleases, and naming the initial letter of the first article he either made or sold. This her companions must endeavor to guess, the next turn falling to the one clever enough to do so, while every one making a mistake, pays a forfeit. The greater the number of players, the more amusing the game becomes. We give a short example:

Mary.  I apprenticed my son to a baker, and the first thing he sold was G.

Amy.  Gingerbread. I apprenticed my son to an iron-monger and the first thing he sold was a C.S.

Susan.  Coal-scuttle. I apprenticed my son to a grocer, and the first thing he sold was C.

Emma.  Coffee?

Susan.  No.

Kate.  Chocolate? Yes! Then it is my turn: I apprenticed my son to a dry-goods merchant, and the first thing he sold was an S.

Jane.  A shawl. I apprenticed my son to a butcher, and the first thing he sold was a M.C.

Clara.  M.C.! what can that be! Oh, I guess: mutton chop!


A little girl is placed at each corner of the room. One player stands in the middle. She goes to each kitten in the corner in turn, and says, "Puss, puss, will you give me a little water?" The Puss addressed declines doing so, but meantime, while they are talking, the other kittens are beckoning to each other to change places, and, suddenly, run rapidly across to each other's corner. The cat in the middle must be on the watch to get into one of these places herself. If she can gain it before the kitten who is exchanging corners, she remains in it, and the disappointed player has to be "cat" instead.


One of the party goes out of the room, and while absent the others fix upon the name of some noted individual. The outsider is then called into the parlor, who is privileged to ask twenty questions. The name decided upon is Abraham Lincoln, and the game proceeds thus:

Anthony.  Is it a man?

Fanny.  Yes.

Anthony.  Is he living or dead, Ada?

Ada.  He is dead.

Anthony.  How long ago, Mary?

Mary.  Since 1865, I think.

Anthony.  Is he English?

Honora.  No.

Anthony.  Was he American?

Edward.  Yes.

Anthony.  What was his character?

Mary.  He was very good, very religious, very brave.

Anthony.  Brave! Farragut.

Charles.  No. Farragut died in 1870.

Anthony.  (Eagerly.) Was he a Western man?

Fanny.  Yes.

Anthony.  Ah! I know. Abraham Lincoln. Fanny must go out now. She told me.


The players sit in a circle. Eva who is chosen to be "Bird Merchant," goes round, assigning to each player the name of some bird she chooses to call herself. When all have received their names, Eva says, advancing to Hamilton:

"Hamilton, I have an aviary of great variety and beauty. To which of my birds will you make a bow? To which will you tell a secret? From which will you pluck a feather?"

Hamilton.  Name your birds, and I will tell you.

Eva.  I have a gentle dove, a charming nightingale, a canary in a cage, a cuckoo, an owl, a pheasant, a swan, a duck, a swallow, a tomtit, a hawk, an eagle.

Hamilton.  I will make a bow to the dove; I will tell a secret to the owl; I will pull a feather out of the pheasant.

Eva.  The dove is Fanny; you must make her a bow without smiling. The owl is Anthony; you must tell him what to do. The pheasant is Anna; she must give you a forfeit.

At the end of the game, the birds say which of them has lost a feather, and they pay a forfeit. If any bird does not have a feather pulled from her wing during the game, she becomes bird merchant the next time.


The leader of the game says to her right-hand neighbor, "My ship has come home from China." The other asks, "What has it brought?" The first one replies, "A fan;" and with her right hand makes gestures as though fanning herself. All the other players do the same. The second player then says to the third, "My ship has come home from China;" and in answer to the question, "What has it brought?" replies, "Two fans," fanning herself with both hands, her gestures being imitated by all her companions. The third player, on announcing the possession of "three fans," has to keep moving the right foot, without ceasing the motion of her two hands; the others, of course, doing the same. At "four fans," both feet and both hands must be kept moving. At "five fans," both feet, both hands, and the head. These movements, executed all at once by the whole of the players, will give them a most ludicrous resemblance to a party of Chinese mandarins.


This is a hiding game. One player goes out of the room; the others hide something, previously chosen for the purpose. It may be a fan, a ball, a cord, a key, etc. When they have hidden it, they call the player in, who instantly begins her search for the hidden thing, in the curtains, under the hearth rug, in the piano—everywhere, in short. When she approaches the right spot, the hiders cry, "Hot!" When she moves away from it, they cry, "Cold." 

If she finds the concealed article, she hides it next time herself. If she gives up the search, she pays a forfeit.

Sometimes a whole party go out of the room, and one remains in it to hide the chosen object they are to seek. 

When they return, she watches them, and calls out who is "hot" or "cold" by name, as "Charley is growing warm," "Nellie is quite hot," "Oh, now, Mary, you are so cold!"


A little party of eight or ten girls of about twelve years of age are assembled. They decide on playing a game called "Whisking the Handkerchief," and Isabel tells them how to play it.

"You must stand in a circle," she says, "but you must not join hands. You must put them behind your back and turn the palm outward, and you must all fix your yes on the ground; if any one looks up, she must pay a forfeit. Now, Mary, you take a handkerchief, dance lightly round the circle, and slip it into any one's hand that you like. No one will know to whom you have given it, for all our eyes will be on the ground. Then, suddenly, the one to whom you give the handkerchief will whisk it up at one of us. The person touched will be surprised, of course, but she must dart off instantly; for Mary, who is on the watch, will strive to catch her.

The play began.

Mary slipped the handkerchief into Edith's hand unseen. Edith whisked it against Mabel, who, taken by surprise, stood still for a moment, and would have been caught, if Mary had not luckily been on the opposite side of the circle. Recalled by her playfellows to her danger, she darted away, and a long, merry race ensued; but Mary caught her, and Mabel became "handkerchief-bearer" in her turn.

If Mabel could have reached the circle again, untouched, Mary must have continued in her place and paid a forfeit.


The following illustration will show how this game was played by a social party in Brooklyn not long since:

Ada.  I will write on slips of paper some numbers—as many as we please. We twist our papers up, put them in a hat, and you each draw one. Then you open it, and say, "My famous number is Twelve"—or whatever the number is. "There were twelve famous Caesars." If you don't know enough famous things or people to make the number, you pay a forfeit; but that will be impossible for you.

Charley.  I am by no means sure; I think it very likely that I shall pay the first forfeit myself. However, I am ready to try if I can escape. 

Ada and Charles then prepared their pieces of paper; put them in a hat, accepted the two finally left, and resumed their seats.

Tillie.  I have drawn the famous number of Four. I think Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter are a famous four.

Ada.  I have drawn a famous number; it is Three. Oh! I know who shall be my famous three—the three Graces.

George.  Very well, Ada. I have drawn a famous number. My number is Twelve. I will give the twelve months of the year.

Charley.  I have drawn a famous number—Nine. Of course I give the nine Muses.

Mary.  I have drawn a famous number: it is Two. Our two greatest Generals, Washington and Grant.

Anna.  I have drawn a famous number; it is Five. The five senses are very famous—Seeing, Hearing, Smelling, Tasting and Touching.

Fanny.  I have drawn a famous number—Seven. Seven stars in the Pleiades; they are called "Seven stars" sometimes.

Mabel.  I have drawn a famous number—Eight. May I say an octave in music? It is the most famous eight I know.

Edith.  I have drawn Eleven. I can't think of an eleven. Give me a number, Fanny. Oh, dear! here's a forfeit.

Henry.  I have drawn Six.  Well! Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday—famous for work, if for nothing else.

Anthony.  I have drawn Ten. A decade of years.

Amy.  I have drawn One—one Sun only in our system of planets.


One of the players leaves the room, after having secretly agreed with the leader of the game that certain objects are to be designated by their initial letters. Thus, R would signify "ring," W "watch," P "purse," etc. The leader of the game then directs each of the company to lay some trifle upon the table, and opening the door, calls to her confederate, "Miss ——, since you are so marvelously gifted, be good enough to name the article each person in the company has placed upon yonder table. What has Mr. A. placed upon there?" The first word of this question beginning with the letter "W," her confederate feels no hesitation in saying, "It was a watch." The leader continues, "But what did Miss B. put there?" This phrase commencing with B, she boldly says, "A book," or whatever article it was agreed should be designated by that letter. This game, or rather trick, cleverly managed generally produces a great effect.


This is a most laughable game, and is thus played: The players on whom absolute silence and gravity are strictly enjoined, range themselves in a close circle. The leader gives her right-hand neighbor a little tap on one cheek; she does the same to the person seated beside her, who follows her example, and it thus makes the round of the circle. The leader then taps her neighbor on both cheeks, the other players doing the same. The third round seizes her gently by the ear, which she continues to hold while the other players go through the same evolutions, which end by producing so odd looking a human chain, that it becomes almost impossible to refrain from breaking the imposed silence by laughter or exclamation, which of course incurs a forfeit.


Each player chooses a number for each question from the table, and the answer is then read aloud. One of the party is selected to read the questions and answers.


1.  What do I like best?

2.  What is my character?

3.  What is my chief hope?

4.  In what do I excel?

5.  What is my most earnest wish?

6.  Of what am I thinking?


Question 1.—1. Eating.  2. Sleeping.  3. Hunting.  4. Talking.  5. Music.  6. Flattery.  7.  Scandal.  8. Croquet.  9. Admiration.  10. Pretty young ladies.  11. Green tea.  12. Reading.

Question 2.—1. Gentle.  2. Firm.  3. Timid.  4. Obstinate.  5. Weak.  6. Nothing particular.  7. Observant.  8. Prudent.  9. Foolish.  10. Impatient.  11. Energetic.  12. Coquettish. 

Question 3.—1. To please.  2. To be well dressed.  3. To be admired.  4. To do good.  5. To be rich.  6. To be talked about.  7. To be loved.  8. To be invited to croquet parties.  9. To be useful.  10. To be engaged.  11. To be a good friend.  12. To sing well.

Question 4.—1. In mischief.  2. In scandal.  3. In goodness.  4. In tattling.  5. In flirting.  6. In scolding.  7. In patience.  8. In nonsense.  9. In music.  10. In dress.  11. In folly.  12. In kindness.

Question 5.—1. To become respected.  2. For the company to admire me.  3. To be the best dressed of the evening.  4. To be of use to everybody.  5. To make myself agreeable.  6. To display my cleverness.  7. To have a cup of tea.  8. To go home.  9. To be asleep.  10. To be amused.  11. To be envied.  12. To be loved.

Question 6.—1. Of yourself.  2. Of an absent friend.  3. Of plum-pudding.  4. Of the last book you read.  5. Of the leader of this game.  6. Of your own dress.  7. Of what we shall have for breakfast.  8. Of a croquet game.  9. Of your favorite dog.  10. Of Jessie '(or any member of the party.)'  11. Of nothing.  12  Of Gerard.


This is a very favorite amusement for families and social parties at Christmas. A large deep brown dish, is best for the pie. Then a quantity of bran is procured. Meantime, a great number of contributions to the pie have employed busy fingers—needle-cases, pincushions, braces for cricketers, cigar-cases, books, purses, boxes, vases, etc., etc., are brought, and are privately put into the Christmas pie, and thickly covered over.

After dinner, on Christmas Eve, the Christmas pie is put on the table, with a spoon and plate beside it. Everybody is invited to help herself to it, and each spoonful brings out whatever it touches. Something round is under Ada's spoon. She disinters a ball—a nice leather ball! Charley has brought up a housewife quite complete, with needles, thimble, scissors, etc. Papa takes out a very nice top; Anthony a book a little beyond his age. Amy gets a most appropriate helping—a little wooden cow. The servants also have gifts from the Christmas pie. The very inappropriateness of some of the gifts helps to create laughter, and there is a good deal of amusement in the after exchanging, or refusing to exchange, them when the pie has disappeared.


This is a game quite puzzling to lookers-on, which is played in the following manner by the "Olive Branch" group: Nellie quits the room. Meanwhile the rest of the company think of a word, generally the name of some article of furniture or object in the apartment. Nellie is then recalled, and asked the thing thought of—the questioner, Hattie, supposing the word chosen to be "book," asking: "Can you tell us what we have thought of?"  "Yes." "Well, then, was it a boot?" "No." "Was it that ornament?" "No." "Was it that orange?" "No." "Was it Stella's knife?" "No." "Then what was it?" The person questioned, finding that the initial letters of the above-mentioned articles form the word "book," unhesitatingly answers, "It is a book."


Harriet.  I am going to put a question in a whisper to Mary, who is seated on my right-hand, to which she will reply in the same tone. She will then put a question to her next neighbor, and receive her answer. When to tour of the circle is made, I shall commence by stating aloud the question put to me by my left-hand neighbor, answering it by the reply received in answer to my own question and her next neighbor's reply. (Whispers to Mary.) Of what use are the bellows?

Mary.  To blow up the fire. (To Emily.) Of what use is a fire-engine?

Emily.  To put out a fire. (To Juliet.) Of what use is a plow?

Juliet.  To plow up the ground. (To Helen.) Of what use is a cap?

Helen.  To cover the head. (To Matilda.) Of what use is a shoe?

Matilda.  To protect your feet. (To Louise.) Of what use is a black pin?

Louise.  To fasten up your hair. (To Harriet.) Of what use is a barometer?

Harriet.  To tell the weather. (Aloud.) Louise has just asked me the use of a barometer. Mary replied, "To blow up the fire!"

Mary.  Harriet has asked me the use of the bellows; and Emily replies, "To put out the fire!"

Emily.  Mary wishes to know the use of the fire-engine, and Juliet tells her, "To plow up the ground."


Desire any one of the company to think of any number she chooses, provided it be even. Tell her triple it—halve the product—triple this half, and then tell you how many times nine will go into it. Multiply this by two, and it will be the number thought of. Thus suppose "4" to be the number, you triple it, making "12;" halve the product leaving "6;" again triple this, making "18," in which "9" will go twice, this "twice" multiplied by "2" gives you "4," the number thought of.


Charles, Mary, Walter, Lucy, Ada and Nora are each provided with half a sheet of note-paper. Charles writes the title—real or imaginary—of a book, and folds it down, giving it to Mary, who, without seeing his, writes a second title, and passing it on to Walter, who gives it an author, hides this, and gives the paper to Lucy, who writes an opinion of the press; all that has gone before being unknown to each player. A second paper is started by Mary with the first title, Walter writes the second title, Lucy the author's name, Nora the opinion of the press, a third paper beginning with Walter. One of the company is chosen to read the notices, the following being an illustration:

On Boots and Blacking; Or, the Way to be Happy.

by a Whale Hunter

This is a very improving little book. Nobody can read it without being the better for it. We heartily recommend it to the young.

The Twin Sisters; Or, Flat-fish and Flounders.

by a Young Aspirant

The events rival Miss Braddon's, the characters surpass Miss Austen's, the language is worthy of a Shakespeare, the humor of a Dickens; in short, this little work is compounded of every creature's best.


One player addresses another:

"Have you seen the crow in the farmer's cornfield?"

The other replies:

"Yes, I have seen the crow in the farmer's cornfield."

"Do you know what the crow does?"

"Yes, I know what the crow does."

"Can you do as he does?"

The secret is to shut your eyes every time you answer—all the answers being echoes of the questions in the affirmative. Failing in this, you pay a forfeit.



The interest of a game of forfeits is often marred at its conclusion by the want of variety in the tasks set for the redemption of the various pledges. Those should not be of a commonplace or unmeaning description. There is very little amusement  to be got from ordering a gentleman to kiss such or such a lady—to sing a song—to stand on one foot, etc., etc..

In "crying forfeits," not only should some degree of intelligence or whimsicality be displayed in inventing the different acts of penitence; they should also be adapted to the capacity of the individuals selected to execute them.

We will endeavor to indicate a considerable number that will be found no less amusing in the carrying out, than the games which have given rise to them.

As a number of the following acts of Penitence depend upon the introduction of "kissing," to which, properly, an objection will exist in many societies, we need hardly say that such amusements are only intended for societies where relationship or extreme intimacy will warrant such familiarity. It has not been considered expedient to separate them from the rest—a confidence in the good taste and sense of propriety of our readers rendering such a proceeding unnecessary.

A Song.—If the penitent be able to extemporise a song, so much the better; but if not, he should endeavor to choose one from his collection. As a rule, a single verse will be found sufficient. If the song chosen should happen to contain more than one verse, it is always safe to stop at the conclusion of the first.

The Will.—The player ordered to make his will, bequeaths to each of his companions something he possesses—either an article of property, or any moral or physical quality. This is, of course, an inexhaustible source of compliments or sarcasms; in dispensing the latter of which, however, we need scarcely advise our readers to use as much delicacy and discrimination as possible, so as to avoid inflicting a wound in a too-susceptible quarter.

Good Advice.—The penitent gives—either in whispers or aloud, according to the order he has received—any piece of advice that may come into his head, to one or all the company.

Comparisons.—You are ordered to compare a lady, or a gentleman, to some subject or other—and explain in what respect she, or he, resembles that object, and in what differs from it. For instance—a lady compares a gentleman to a sheet of white paper: The resemblance exists in the facility with which both receive a first impression—the difference in the promptness with which the gentleman alone can receive impressions in quick succession, one after another, which are as quickly effaced. A gentleman compares a lady to a mantel clock: Like that article of furniture, she ornaments the room wherein she is placed; but, unlike it, makes us forget the hours as they fly, instead of calling attention to them, etc., etc. 

The Secret.—This consists in whispering a secret to each member of the company.

The Confidential Answer.—The penitent places himself last in a row of three persons, the first of which whispers whatever he likes to the second. The penitent has heard nothing, but is obliged to whisper to the aforesaid second person an answer to the observation of the first. The "middle man" then repeats aloud what has been confided to him on either side. The result is generally an amusing species of cross reading.

The First Letters.—A certain number of letters are given to you, on which you are expected to found a speech—complimentary or the reverse, as may be desired—to the person furnishing them; using each letter, in succession, as the commencement of a word.

The Deaf Man.—The penitent is punished with the temporary affliction of deafness, and compelled to stand in the middle of the room. To all propositions to him he must answer three times in succession, "I am deaf; I can't hear." The fourth time, however, he must say, "I can hear," and execute whatever command is imposed upon him. The fun—to all but the unfortunate sufferer—is to make the first three proposals of an agreeable nature—such as bringing a young lady and asking him to salute her, to which he is compelled to turn a deaf ear; while the fourth time he is requested to perform some humiliating act—such as sing a comic song, dance a hornpipe, etc., etc.—which he is compelled to put into immediate execution.

The Pilgrim.—A gentleman conducts a lady round the circle, saying to each member of it, if a gentleman, "A kiss for my sister, and a morsel of bread for me!" If a lady, "A morsel of bread for my sister, and a kiss for me!" The bread is of no particular importance, but the kiss is indispensable.

The Clock.—A player is condemned to transformation to a clock. He stands before the mantelpiece, and calls a player, of the opposite sex, to him. The person thus called upon, asks the "clock" what time it is. The "clock" replies whatever hour he likes, claiming the same number of kisses as he names hours of the day. If approved of, the player who has asked the time takes the place of the "clock," and calls upon another; the original ceremony being repeated in turn by all the players of the company.

'Twas I.—The player is selected to ask three questions of every player in succession. The answer may be whatever the person questioned pleases; but to it the unhappy victim must invariably reply, "'Twas I." For instance: "What did you see last night on the avenue?" "A man stealing a turkey." "'Twas I." "Who did you see at Mrs. Smith's reception?" "A young man, dressed in the height of fashion, with a swallow-tailed coat—colored waiter at the table." "'Twas I." "What curiosities did you observe in Philadelphia last week?" "A donkey jogging through Broad street." "'Twas I."

The Parrot.—The parrot has to address to each person in the company the question, "If I was a parrot, what would you teach me to say?" and faithfully repeat the response. If, however, the parrot be a gentleman, and receives from one of the young ladies the invitation, "Kiss me, pretty Polly," he is allowed to avail himself of it.

Nun-fashion Kiss.—Kiss one of your companions through the bars at the back of a chair.

The Two Chairs.—The forfeit is sometimes to be redeemed by the following penance: Place two chairs back to back, take off your shoes, and jump over them. Which is easily performed by the 'shoes', not the chairs, being the articles jumped over.

The Twister.—

When the twister a-twisting would twist him a twist,

For the twisting his twine he three times doth entwist;

But if one of the twists of the twist doth untwine,

The twine that untwisteth untwisteth the twine.

Four Corners.—This old penance, "to laugh in one corner of the room, cry in another, sing in another, and dance in another," is too well known to need any explanation.

To kiss a Box inside and out without opening it.—This is done by first kissing it inside the room, and then outside the door.

To put Yourself through the Keyhole.—Write the word "yourself" on a slip of paper, roll it up, and pass it through the keyhole.

To spell Constantinople.—When you have spelt the first three syllables, your companions will call out "No, no"—meaning the next—therefore go on spelling, as you incur a second forfeit if you pause to justify yourself.

Kiss, Tap and Box.—One of the company makes, behind the person to whom the forfeit belongs, three gestures, a kiss, a tap under the chin, and a box on the ear, and asks him which he will have, the first, the second, or the third—he receives whichever he chooses.

A Rabbit's Kiss.—The couple having to redeem their forfeits by this penance kneel at a little distance from one another, each holding the end of a long needleful of thread in their mouths. At a given signal they gradually diminish the distance between them, by drawing the thread within their lips, until sufficiently near to exchange the required kiss.

Back to back.—To kiss her sister back to back. This is done over the shoulder.

Pinching.—To pinch her own right arm below the elbow. This is a catch. She can do so by pinching the wrist of her right arm with her left hand.

Feeding.—To guess who feeds her with water. A glass of water and a spoon are brought, she is blindfolded and seated in a chair; every person in the room gives her silently a teaspoonful of water. She guesses each time who feeds her and is only released when her guess proves correct.

Blindfold.—For two players across the room. Shake hands with any one named by the forfeit-holder, blindfold. This is a very amusing forfeit. Both the players are blinded, and have of course great difficulty in meeting. Their companions must watch that they do not hurt themselves in the attempt. It is by no means easy to shake hands under such circumstances.

The Quaker.—Four players may redeem their forfeits by playing "Obadiah, the Quaker." They sit in a row: one at the end begins twirling his thumbs slowly, and says:

"Brothers, dear to you I say,

That I must go to-day

To see my small brother,


He then rises, goes to the middle of the room, and kneels on one knee. All kneel in a line close behind him. Then the end one of the row gives the player before him a good push, and the little ones roll on the carpet amid shouts of laughter.



Which are the two hottest letters of the alphabet?—K N (Cayenne).

Who is the man who carries every thing before him?—The footman.

Why is U the gayest letter in the alphabet?—Because it is always in fun.

When may a man's pocket be empty and yet have something in it?—When it has a hole in it.

Which is the merriest sauce?—Caper sauce.

Why is a cat going up three pairs of stairs like a high hill?—Because she's a-mount'in'.

Why is a horse like the letter O?—Because gee (G) makes it 'go.'

What have you to expect at an hotel?—Inn-attention.

What is that word of five letters, of which, when you take away two, only one remains?—Stone.

When is the letter B like a fire?—It makes oil boil.

What word may be pronounced quicker by adding a syllable to it?—Quick.

What relation is that child to its father who is not its father's own son?—His daughter.

If a heater costs two hundred and fifty dollars, what will a ton of coals come to?—Ashes.

When may a ship be said to be in love?—When she wishes for a mate.

What relation is the door-mat to the scraper?—A step-father (farther).

What is that which has never been felt, seen nor heard—never existed, and still has a name?—Nothing.

What is that which comes with a bus, goes with a bus, is of no use to the bus, and yet the bus can't go without it?—A noise.

Why does a duck put its head under water?—For diver's reasons.

Describe a suit of old clothes in two letters?—C D (seedy).

What American poet may be considered equal to three-fifths of the poets, ancient and modern?—Poe.

How would you express in two letters that one person was twice the weight of another?—I W (I double you).

What is that which occurs once in a minute, twice in a moment, and not once in a hundred years?—Letter M.

What is an old lady in the middle of a river like?—Like to be drowned.

Why is a proud girl like a music-book?—She is so full of airs.

When is a thief like a reporter?—When he takes notes.

What things increase the more you contract them?—Debts.

What town is drawn more frequently than any other?—Cork.

What is the key-note to good breeding?—B-natural.

Which is the ugliest hood ever worn?—Falsehood.

What nation will always overcome in the end?—Determination.

What have you now before you which would give you a company, a veiled lady, and a noisy toy?—Co-nun-drum.

What to you put before nine to make it three less by the addition?—S IX.

If I were in the sun and you out of it, what would the sun become?—Sin.

Why is an engine like a schoolmaster?—Because one minds the train and the other trains the mind.

What will a leaden bullet become in water?—Damp.

The End

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