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Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 103, July 9, 1892

EUPHEMIA subsides in confusion


of the Daughters._ Oh, but, Mother, you forget! Miss ANNIE OAKLEY didn't stand on _her_--

_The R.M._ (_in an awful voice_), I am perfectly aware of that, EUPHEMIA; so pray don't make such unnecessary remarks!

[_EUPHEMIA subsides in confusion._

_An Unsophisticated Spectator_ (_as Master BAKER, after rubbing his forehead, discovers a brickbat under the mat where his head had been_). Now, how _very_ odd! He found a brick in exactly the same place when I was here before! Someone must have a grudge against him, poor boy! But he ought to look _before_ he stands on his head, next time!

_Mr. Timmerman_ (_carelessly, to his wife, as the Deadwood Coach is introduced_). It would be rather fun to have a ride in the Coach--new experience and all that.

_Mrs. T._ (_who doesn't intend him to go_). Oh, do be _careful_ then.

_Mr. T._ (_feeling quite the Daredevil_). Pooh, my dear, what is there to be careful about?

_Mrs. T._ It does look such a ramshackle old thing--it might break down. Accidents do happen so quickly.

_Mr. T._ (_reflecting that they certainly do_). Oh, if it wasn't perfectly safe, they wouldn't--

_Mrs. T._ Well, promise me if you go on the box to hold on tight round

the corners, then!

_Mr. T._ (_who doesn't see much to hold on by_). I shan't _go_ on the box--I shall go inside.

_Mrs. T._ There mayn't be room. There are several people waiting to go already. You'll have to make haste to get a seat at all. I shall be _miserable_ till I see you safe back again!

_Mr. T._ (_who is not sure he doesn't share her feelings_). Oh well, if you feel like _that_ about it, I won't--

_Mrs. T._ Oh, yes, do, I _want_ you to go--it will be so exciting for you to see real Indians yelling and shooting all round.

_Mr. T._ (_thinking that it may be more exciting than pleasant_). Might bring on one of my headaches, and there'll be such a smell of gunpowder too. I hardly think, after all, it's worth while.

_Mrs. T._ If you feel in the least _nervous_ about it. (_Mr. T. denies this indignantly._) Then go at once--you may never have the chance again; only don't stay talking about it--go!

_Mr. T._ (_pulling himself together_). Very well, if you really wish it.... Confound it! _Most_ annoying, really! (_Sits down relieved._) They've started! It's all _your_ fault, if you hadn't kept me here talking!

_Mrs. T._ (_humbly_). I _am_ so sorry--but there's another performance in the evening; we might dine here, and then you could easily go on the Coach afterwards if you're so anxious to!

_Mr. T._ And sit through the show twice in one day? No, good as it is, I really--and I've some letters I must write after dinner, too.

[_Mrs. T. smiles to herself discreetly, satisfied with having gained her point._

* * * * *


On Saturday last, being the first day permissible under the statute, the nomination of a Knight to serve in Parliament for the Shire of Barks, was held in the county town. The proceedings were marked by a pleasing unanimity, and an outburst of popular enthusiasm which seriously tried the resources of the local police. There was only one candidate--TOBY once more M.P. The nomination paper was signed by _Mr. Punch_, Mr. GLADSTONE, Lord SALISBURY, and most of the Crowned Heads of Europe.

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