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قراءة كتاب Mr. Punch's Railway Book
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class="i10">To unravel.
There was once an ancient lady
Whom we knew as Miss O'Grady,
Who was asked to spend the autumn down at Trew.
So in fear and trepidation
She sought out her destination,
And betook her to the station—
Waterloo.
She took her little ticket
And she did not fail to stick it
With half-a-dozen coppers in her glove.
Another moment found her
With a plenty to astound her—
For she'd notice-boards all round her,
And above!
So she studied every number
On those sign-posts that encumber
All the station; and she learned them one by one;
But she found the indication
Of the platforms of the station
Not much use as information
When she'd done.
In her shocking state of fluster
Little courage could she muster,
Yet of porters she accosted one or two;
But, too shy to claim attention,
And too full of apprehension,
She could get no one to mention
"Which for Trew."
So she trudged through every station—
"North," "South," "Main,"—in quick rotation,
And then she gave a trial to the "Loop";
Like some hapless new Pandora
She sat down a-gasping for a
Little hope to live on—or a
Plate o' soup.
* * * * *
'Mid the bustle and the hissing
An old maiden lady's "Missing"—
In some corner of the complicated maze;
And round about she's gliding
In unwilling, hideous hiding,
On the platform, loop, or siding,
In a craze.
And still they cannot find her,
For she leaves no trace behind her
At Vauxhall, Clapham Junction, Waterloo;
But she passes like a comet
With the myst'ry of Mahomet—
Her course unknown—and from it
Not a clue!
MOST OFFENSIVE
Railway Porter. "If you please, sir, was this your'n?"
A RAILWAY COLLUSION—A HINT TO STATION-MASTERS
Porter. "Now, then, Bill! are you off?"
Cab Ruffian. "No; what sort of fare is it?"
Porter. "Single gent, with small bag."
Ruffian. "Oh, he won't do! Can't yer find us a old lady and two little gals with lots o' boxes? I'm good for a pint!"
CHANGELINGS; OR, A STORY WITHOUT (POLITE) WORDS.
"Them's the only dogs as come by this train, sir. The guard says as 'ow there was three sportin' dogs, as 'ad ate their label off, wot's gone on by the Scotch Express."
Rather 'Cute.—Small but Sharp Passenger. "Look here! You didn't give me the right change just now!"
Clerk. "Too late, sir! You should have spoken when you took your ticket!"
Passenger. "Should I? Well, it's of no consequence to me; but you gave me half-a-sovereign too much! Ta-ta!" [Exit.
UNDERGROUND STUDIES
SMOKING COMPARTMENT
WAIT TILL THE TRAIN STOPS
THIRD CLASS. TO SEAT SIX
THE UNDERGROUND RAILWAYS
Stoker. "Wery sorry to disturb yer at supper, ladies, but could yer oblige me with a scuttle o' coals for our engine, as we've run short of 'em this journey?"
REPARTEES FOR THE RAILWAY
"No smoking allowed." Of course, but I am going to enjoy my cigar in silence.
"Want the window closed." Very sorry, but I can't find a cathedral.
"Find my journal a nuisance." Dear me! was under the impression it was a newspaper.
"Allow you to pass." Afraid only the Secretary can manage that for you; he alone has power to issue free tickets.
"Do I mind the draught?" Not when I am attending to the chessman.
"Do I know the station?" Of the people on the platform? Probably lower middle class.
"Is this right for Windsor?" Yes, if it's not left for somewhere else.
"Are we allowed five minutes for lunch?" Think not; but you can have sandwiches at the counter.
"Isn't this first-class?" Quite excellent—first-rate—couldn't be better!
"I want to go second." Then you had better follow me.
"I am third." Indeed! And who were first and second.
"I think this must be London." Very likely, if it is, it mustn't be anywhere else.
