JUGGLING WITH AUTHORS

A hostess-with a party of friends on her hands, for whom to find amusement on a hopelessly rainy daysuggested that each one should write a question, bringing in a punning reference to an author's name. These, thrown into a basket, were to be withdrawn at random, and each person was to answer the question on the paper that fell to his or her lot, incorporating in the reply the name of another author.

For their encouragement she cited an example that she had read, which had given her the idea. Once started, they became enthusiastic, and the result of their efforts is here given:

Why did Mark Akenside? Because he let Rose Terry Cooke.

Where did Henry Cabot Lodge? In Sir Walter Scott. What did Harriet Beecher Stowe? Something that should make Leigh Hunt.

Where did E. P. Roe? To a Shelley shore.

What did Richard Steele? The same that John Horne Tooke.

When does Lewis Carroll? When William Dean Howells.

What started Walter A. Wyckoff? The same thing that made Victor Hugo..

When Ouida asks does Samuel Lover, what does he do? Samuel Smiles.

Why did not Doctor Johnson Marie Corelli? Because he loved Hannah More.

What makes Thomas Hardy? The same régime that makes Edward Everett Hale.

What made Edward Whymper? Lang pulled Augustus Hare.

What agency made Captain Charles King? The enthusiasm that made Alexander Pope.

What happens when John Kendrick Bangs? It makes Richard Savage and drives Oscar Wilde!

What makes Rider Haggard? A little too much. "Holland."

What does Anthony Hope? For the social entrée to Oliver Wendell Holmes.

Can George Augustus Henry Sala boat? Yes, so as to make Ik Marvel.

What made Mary Mapes Dodge? Why did not Charles Dudley Warner!

What did T. Buchanan Reid? Mark Twain, but thought John Greenleaf Whittier.

What makes Marian Evans Cross? She is suffering from a Bunyan.

The material seems to be inexhaustible.

AUTOGRAPHS

some

In entertaining a party of young persons, where are diffident and require to be drawn into sociability, some plan of amusement that necessitates moving about will be found promotive of enjoyment.

Provide each guest with a large card with pencil attached and announce that a prize will be given to the one who succeeds in obtaining the most autographs of those present in a given time.

Should there be fifty guests, the time allowed might be twenty minutes-marked by the touch of a bell.

Each one will be so eager to secure his neighbour's autograph, who in turn is seeking another's, that it will be difficult to obtain as many as one might suppose. The general hilarity occasioned will be gratifying to the hostess.

CRAMBO

This is an old French game, called in the land of its birth, "Bouts-rimés "—(Rhyme-ends), and said to be the invention of a poor poet whose talent was employed by other poets to find rhymes for them.

Each player is provided with three bits of paper-one larger than the other two. On the larger piece he writes a question and upon each of the small bits a word.

These are folded so as to conceal the writing and dropped into a basket. After a vigorous shaking, the basket is presented to the players in turn, who draw at random a large paper and two small ones. It facilitates the choice if the large pieces are in one receptacle and the smaller ones in another.

The questions must be answered in rhyme, introducing the two words that have been drawn.

Great dismay is usually expressed on all sides when the difficulty first presents itself of bringing utterly incongruous subjects into harmonious relations, but people do not know how clever they are until they are put to the test-and Crambo has revealed many a poet to himself. The game best fulfils its mission if the rhymes are but doggerel that will amuse, and the effort

to make them tax the wits is pleasant. For example, the question may be, "What pleasure lasts the longest?" The words drawn, "self" and "apple-pie." The following nonsense incorporates them:

Some persons get their chief pleasure from books,
Others appear to care most for their looks.

Pleasure at best seems a kind of a dream;
But the gratification of self-esteem
Has a lasting charm until we die.
A tramps ideal might be apple-pie !

ILLUSTRATED SONGS

This game has the advantage that no preparation is required, except the distribution of pads and pencils among the players. Each person is requested to draw three pictures illustrating as many familiar songs, old or new. The worse the drawing, the better the fun. Twenty minutes is the prescribed limit of time, at the expiration of which the productions are signed by their authors and numbered. The papers are then collected and ranged about the room, pinned to curtains, tucked into photograph frames, etc. The players go about the room examining this art collection, and noting on their pads what song they think each drawing is intended to illustrate.

For example: Two modest houses in duplicate, drawn in the style of architecture popular in children's first attemps, and between them a large pot marked sugar," stands for "Home, Sweet Home."

An attempt at the representation of lilacs, daffodils and pansies (each may be labelled if the artist is dissatisfied with his work) may suggest "The Flowers that Bloom in the Spring."

"IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN"

This game was suggested by Thackeray's clever narrative of the fate of Ivanhoe as "it might have been," in which that hero marries the gentle Rowena-according to the wishes of so many readers-and lives to repent it.

Each player selects his subject from some well-known novel or tale and takes what liberties he chooses with its characters. All are provided with pads and pencils, a time limit agreed upon, and all set to work. At the end of the allotted period, the papers are signed by pseudonyms and handed to the hostess to be read aloud, or to some one whom they think qualified to give each tale its due expression and set it forth with fine effect. At the conclusion of the reading, every one prints upon slips of paper-that the hand-writing may not be recognised his or her vote as to which narrative is the cleverest, and to its writer is given that award of honour or a prize.

For example, at a recent assemblage of choice spirits where this game was played, one paper told the story of Trilby as "it might have been" if she had married Little Billee.

She is introduced into the dull routine of life in a sleepy little English hamlet where she is bored to the verge of desperation. The provincial mind does not feel the charm of her personality and distinctly disapproves of "her ways and her manners."

The family of Little Billee champion her at first for his sake, but, like many another family in like case, wonder what he could have seen in Trilby to fascinate him, when they know of so many other girls infinitely more attractive-and when she exclaims "maïe aïe !"