Yet there is a kind of practical joke which, so far as I know, has
never been played upon anybody, and which, if it wore played,
might provoke a considerable volume of laughter and no small
inconvenience. I have schemed it out and venture to submit the plan
to you.

My idea is to take some weekly magazine which caters either for some
special trade or amusement or pursuit. Let us imagine it to be _The
Chicken Run_, with which is incorporated _The Fowls' Guardian_. I am
entitled to assume that most of Mr. Punch's readers are acquainted
with this bright and lively feathered journal. My plan is to get
together some bold spirits, to capture the editor and his staff,
and to hold them in a comfortable but rigorous imprisonment for one
week; to take possession of the editorial office, and then to set to
work to transform the contents of the paper. I foresee the amazement
of the faithful readers of _The Chicken Run_, on being informed, in
the column headed "Hints to Beginners," that Mr. LLOYD GEORGE'S pet
Leghorn cockerel has developed a surprising taste for latchkeys, and
recently swallowed two of them, while Mr. ASQUITH'S Buff Orpington
pullet has taken to following him about like a dog and roosting
on his bed-rail. Then there would be a breezy editorial article
designed to prove that poultry had come out of the war with a much
enhanced reputation, owing to the loyal part they had played in
assisting the FOOD-CONTROLLER.

Further, there would be special articles proving, for instance, that
champagne is the one drink on which all breeds of chickens increase
and multiply their production of eggs, especially if hot caviare
is afterwards administered in large bowls. Then there would be the