Miss T. Why, I reckoned Uncle Remus was pretty most everybody's relation by now. He's a book. But likely you've no use for our national humorous literature?
Culch. I—er—must confess I seldom waste time over the humorous literature of any nation.
Miss T. I guess that accounts for your gaiety! There, don't you mind me, Mr. Culchard. But suppose we hurry along and inspect this panorama they talk so much of; it isn't going to be any side-show. It's just a real representative mass-meeting of Swiss mountains, with every prominent peak in the country on the platform, and a deputation down below from the leading Italian lakes. It's ever so elegant,—and there's Poppa around on the top too.
On the top. Tourists discovered making more or less appropriate remarks.
STRUGGLING WITH A LONG PRINTED PANORAMA.
First Tourist (struggling with a long printed panorama, which flaps like a sail). Grand view, Sir, get 'em all from here, you see! Monte Rosa, Matterhorn, Breithorn——
[Works through them all conscientiously, until, much to everybody's relief, his panorama escapes into space.
Second T. (a lady, with the air of a person making a discovery). How wonderfully small everything looks down below!
Third T. (a British Matron, with a talent for incongruity). Yes, dear, very—quite worth coming all this way for; but as I was telling you, we've always been accustomed to such an evangelical service, so that our new Rector is really rather—but we're quite friendly of course; go there for tennis, and he dines with us, and all that. Still, I do think, when it comes to having lighted candles in broad daylight——(&c., &c.)