قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 109, July 13, 1895

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‏اللغة: English
Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 109, July 13, 1895

Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 109, July 13, 1895

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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SO THAT DOESN'T COUNT.

"Are you sure they're quite Fresh?" "Wot a Question to arst! Can't yer see they're Alive?" "Yes; but you're Alive, you know!"

Are you quite sure that it is safe?

Well, there have been all sorts of stories about this sort of thing, but I don't believe it. The Prince went, you know.

Oh, yes, of course. Then that's all right. Now we are off. How interesting! We can see the tops of the houses! But what are we waiting for?

Oh, for other passengers to get into the cars. How long does it take?

About three-quarters of an hour. Well, now we are off again.

Why, there is a mist, and we can't see anything.

Oh, yes, we can. Why, that must be either Kensington Gardens, Hyde Park Corner, or Battersea Park.

Don't think there is much in it. And why are we stopping?

People getting in and out. Well, now we have had thirty-five minutes of it, I shall be glad to be home.

Oh, here we are. Now we can get out. Come, that is nice!

No, we can't! We have missed the landing, and have to go round again.[1]

After two journeys I think the best way of thoroughly enjoying the Wheel is to sit fast, close your eyes, and think of something else!


IN THE EARL'S COURT INDIA.

In Bombay Street, Indian City. Time—About Eight p.m.

A Matron (to her friend, as they approach the natives at work). Everything seems for sale here, my dear. Just the place to get a nice wedding-present for dear Emily. I want to give her something Indian, as she will be going out there so soon. What are they doing in here? oh, glass-blowing!... See, Jane, this one is making glass bangles.... Well, no, Emily would think it rather shabby if I gave her a pair of those. I might get one apiece for Cook and Phœbe—servants are always so grateful for any little attention of that sort—though I shouldn't like to encourage a taste for finery; well, it will do very well when we come back.... Perhaps one of those brass dinner-gongs—there's a large one, I see, marked seven-and-sixpence—but I'd rather give her something quieter—something she'd value for its own sake.... Now one of those chased silver bowls—twenty-five-and-nine-pence? Well, it seems a little——and though I was always very fond of her mother, Emily was never——I must think over it.... She might like a set of beetle-wing mats—only they're not likely to entertain much.... How would one of these embroidered tablecloths—eh? oh, I'm sure I've seen them much cheaper at Liberty's; and besides——(After a prolonged inspection of various articles at various stalls.) After all, I shall be going to Tunbridge Wells next week. I think I'll wait. I might see something there I liked better, you know!

"Stands smiling feebly"
"Stands smiling feebly"

A Wife (to her husband, who is examining the stock of a native shoemaker with interest). No, Charles. I put up with a great deal for the sake of your society of an evening; but if you imagine I am going to have you sitting opposite me with your feet in a pair of slippers separated into two horrid toes, you make a great mistake! Put the dreadful things down and come away.

Mr. McPairtan (from the North, to his small nephew). Eh, Robbie, my man, I'm thinking your mither wouldna' just approve o' my takkin' ye to sic a perfairmance as yon Burrmese dancing-women.... Nay, nay, laddie, there's deceitfulness eneugh in the naitural man withoot needing to lairn ony mair o't fro' these puir juggling Indian bodies wi' their snake-chairmin' an' sic godless doins!... Ride on the elephant? Havers! Ye can do that fine in the Zooloagical Gairdens.... 'Twould be just sinful extrawvagance in me to be throwing away guid siller wi' so mony bonny sichts to be seen for naething.

Mr. Gourmay (who is dying for his dinner, to his pretty cousins, who cannot be got past the Indian craftsmen). Yes, yes, very interesting, and all that; but we can see it just as well if we come back later, you know.

His Cousin Belle. But they may have stopped by then. I must just see him finish the pattern; it's too fascinating!

Mr. Gourm. I—er—don't want to hurry you, you know, only, you see, if we don't look sharp, we shan't be in time to secure an outside table at the Restaurant. Much jollier dining in the open air.

His Cousin Imogen. Oh, it's too hot to think of food. I'm not in the least hungry—are you, Belle?

Belle. No; I'd ever so much rather see the Burmese dancers and the Indian conjurors. I don't want to waste the best part of the evening over dinner; we might have some of that nice Indian tea and a piece of cake by-and-by, perhaps, if there's time.

[Speechless delight of Mr. Gourmay.

Energetic Leader (to his party, who are faint, but pursuing). No, there's nothing particular to see here. I tell you what my plan is. We'll go and do the Kinetoscopes and the Phonographs, have a look at the Great Wheel, and some shots at the Rifle Range, cross over and take a turn on the Switchback, finish up with a cold-meat supper at Spiers and Pond's, and a stroll round the band-stand, and, by the time we've done, we shall have got a very fair idea of what India's like!

First Relative (to Second). What's become of Aunt Joanna? I thought she was going on one of the elephants.

Second Relative. She would have it none of 'em looked strong enough for her. And what do you think she goes and does next? Tries to bargain with a black man to take her for a turn on one o' them little bullock-carts! I really hadn't the patience to stop and see what come of it.

Miss Rashleigh (by the Burmese Cheroot Stall, audibly, to her companion). Just look at this girl, my dear, with a great cigar in her mouth! Fancy their being New Women in Burmah! And such a hideous creature, too!

Her Companion. Take care, my dear, she'll hear you. I expect she understands English.

Miss Rashleigh (with ready tact and resourcefulness). Then let's tell her how pretty she is!

In the Indian Jungle.

Mr. Moul (to Mrs. Moul, as they halt before a darkened interior representing a coolie sleeping in an Indian hut, which a leopard is stealthily entering). Ah, now I do call that something like! Lovely! ain't it?

Mrs. Moul. It's beautiful. 'Ow ever they can do it all! (After a pause.) Why, I do believe there's a animal of some sort up at the further end! Can you see him, Samson?

Mr. Moul. A animal! where? Ah, I can make out somethink now. (With pleased

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