... THE FLOWING BOWL Arnold wrote of amber grapes and Chian wine; Keats of that beaker full of the warm Soieth. We do not presume to poetry but we do think that if your flowing bowl is filled at Christmas with any one of these there is a fair chance that you will merry merry be BORDEAUX BOWL Ingredients: 1 bottle claret, 1 tablespoonful sugar, grated nutmeg, ½ sherry glass orange Curacao, and 1 ...

... H. H. Munro, better remembered as Saki, was one of the most endearing wits of Edwardian times. He began his literary career as a political satirist but excelled at deft short pieces in a lighter vein like this one by Saki Characters: Major Richard Dumbarton Mrs. Carewe Mrs. Paly-Paget [Scene Deck of eastward-bound steamer. Major Dumbarton seated on deck-chair, another chair by his side, with ...

... THE COCKEYED PARTY It. It. Wyndham Ltkw (or. \ii>li(niaiT in llloomshiirv} PROLOGUE EARLY afternoon on a June day of 1950. Outside the London School of Economics. Siesta is over. Clusters of attractive gipsies lounge on the School steps, casting provo cative or insolent glances at the crowd. Others mingle with the populace, passing to and fro with rhythmically-swaying hips. Others are flocking ...

... PETER DICKINSON, bearing in mind the fondness for moderniz ing Shakespeare, here presents Falstaff in a motoring mishap OfCENE: the courtyard oj a wayside inn. O Enter Shallow and Silence. Shallow: Come on, come on, come on; give me your hand, Sir, give me your hand. And how goes the little sports car you bought at Stamford Fair? A quick one, I'll warrant? Silence: Alas, Cousin, a dear bargain ...

... D. B. Wpidham Lewis PROMISING frantic excitement but supplying very little, the Mystery of the Man in the Iron Mask (so called because it was a black velvet one) has always seemed to us marvellously like a typical Daily Scoop scream headline H ...

... Hringing you the pulsating drama of one man who dared to tell the truth and of a woman who got left out because she couldn't be fitted into the story. by MAURICE WILTSHIRE ONE Christmas Eve, towards the end of December in the year 19--, my Uncle Alec, at whose country place we were staying to elude the festive season, called us children to him and bade us cluster about his knee with rapt ...