An Aphoristic Uncle (to an irreverent Nephew). No. 89. "A Long-spiked Wooden Roller, known as a 'Spiked Hare.'" You see, TOM, my boy, the victim was—(Describes the process.) "Some of the old writers describe this torture as being most fearful," so the Catalogue tells us.
Tom-my-boy (after inspecting the spikes). Well, do you know, Uncle, I shouldn't be at all surprised if the old Johnnies weren't so far out.
The Aph. Uncle. Another illustration, my boy, of "Man's inhumanity to Man"!
Tom-my-boy. Not bad for you, Uncle—only you cribbed it out of the Catalogue, you know! [The A.U. gives him up.
An Indulgent Parent enters, leading a small boy in a tall hat, and is presently recognised by the A.U.
The A.U. So you've brought your son to see this collection, hey? Well, it's of the greatest educational value to a thoughtful youth—rich in moral and historical instruction!
The I.P. Well, it was like this, you see. I had to take him to the dentist's, and, finding we should have half-an-hour or so to spare before he could attend to him, I thought we'd just drop in here and amuse ourselves—eh, BOBBY? Wonderfully ingenious, you know, in their way, some of these things! Now, here's a thing—"A Spanish mouth-pear, made of iron." You see, BOBBY, they forced it into the mouth and touched a screw, and it sprang open, preventing the victim from screaming.
Bobby. Y-yes, father. Should you think Mr. Fawcepps will have one of those?
The I.P. (annoyed). Now, what is the use of my taking you to a place of this sort to divert your thoughts, if your mind is running on something else all the time? I won't have it, do you hear. Enjoy yourself like a sensible boy!
Bobby. Y-yes, Father, I am. It—it's quite cured my toothache already—really it has!