TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE.
Some pages of this work have been moved from the original sequence to enable the contents to continue without interruption. The page numbering remains unaltered.
MR. PUNCH'S RAILWAY BOOK
PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR
Edited by J. A. Hammerton
Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day.
"READING BETWEEN THE LINES"
MR. PUNCH'S RAILWAY BOOK
WITH 160 ILLUSTRATIONS
BY
PHIL MAY,
GEORGE DU MAURIER,
CHARLES KEENE,
JOHN LEECH,
SIR JOHN TENNIEL,
E. T. REED,
L. RAVENHILL,
J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE,
REGINALD CLEAVER,
AND MANY OTHER HUMOROUS ARTISTS
PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH"
THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD.
Punch Library of Humour
Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated
LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY
LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS
SCOTTISH HUMOUR
IRISH HUMOUR
COCKNEY HUMOUR
IN SOCIETY
AFTER DINNER STORIES
IN BOHEMIA
AT THE PLAY
MR. PUNCH AT HOME
ON THE CONTINONG
RAILWAY BOOK
AT THE SEASIDE
MR. PUNCH AFLOAT
IN THE HUNTING FIELD
MR. PUNCH ON TOUR
WITH ROD AND GUN
MR. PUNCH AWHEEL
BOOK OF SPORTS
GOLF STORIES
IN WIG AND GOWN
ON THE WARPATH
BOOK OF LOVE
WITH THE CHILDREN
A WORD AT STARTING
Only a few years before Mr. Punch began his long and brilliant career had passenger trains and a regular system of railway travelling come into existence. In his early days it was still very much of a novelty to undertake a journey of any length by train; a delightful uncertainty prevailed not only as to the arrival at a given destination, but equally as to getting away from a starting-place. Naturally, the pens and pencils of his clever contributors were then frequently in use to illustrate the humours of railway travel, and even down to the present time Mr. Punch has not failed to find in the railway and its associations "a source of innocent merriment."
It must be admitted that some thirty years ago the pages of Punch literally teemed with biting satires on the management of our railways, and the fact that his whole-hearted denunciations of the inefficient service, the carelessness which resulted in frequent accidents, the excessive charges, the inadequate accommodation, could have been allowed to pass without numerous actions for libel, is proof of the enormous advantages which the present generation enjoys in this great matter of comfortable, rapid and inexpensive transit. Where Mr. Punch in his wrath, as voicing the opinion of the public, was wont to ridicule and condemn the railways and all associated therewith, we to-day are as ready, and with equal reason, to raise our voice in praise. But ridicule is ever a stronger impulse to wit than is appreciation, and in these later days when we are all alive to the abounding merits of our railway system Mr. Punch has had less to say about it. If we were to cull from his pages written in the days of his wrath we might be held guilty of presenting a gross travesty of the conditions now obtaining. Thus it is that in one or two cases only have we retained passages from his earlier chronicles, such as "Rules for the Rail" and "The Third-Class Traveller's Petition," which have some historical value as reminders that the railway comfort of the present day presents a remarkable contrast to the not very distant past.
To-day every member of the community may be regarded as a railway traveller, so large a part does the railway play in modern life; and it will be admitted that, with all our improvements, the element of humour has not been eliminated from our comings and goings by train. We trust it never may. Here, then, is a compilation of the "best things," literary and pictorial, that have appeared in Mr. Punch's pages on the subject, and with his cheery presence as our guard, let us set forth upon our excursion into the Realm of Fun!
MR. PUNCH'S RAILWAY BOOK
RAILWAY JOKES
As Played Daily on the Principal Lines
Turning Business into Pleasure.—Take a traveller pressed for time, and induce him to enter a train supposed to be in correspondence with another train belonging to another line, and by which other train the traveller proposes to proceed to his destination. As the first train arrives at the junction, start off the second train en route for Town. The dismay of the traveller when he finds his journey interrupted will be, to say the least, most mirth-moving.
The Panic-stricken Passengers.—Allow an express train to arrive at the station of a rival company two hours behind its time. The travellers will, of course, be anxious to learn the cause of the delay, and will (again of course) receive no sort of information on the subject from the servants of the rival company. Should there be any nervous ladies in the train, the fun will become fast and furious.
A Lark in the Dark.—Start a train ten minutes late, and gradually lose time until it arrives in the middle of a long tunnel, and then stop the engine. Stay where you are for half an hour, whistling and letting off steam every now and then, to increase the excitement. Should it be known in the train that an express is due on the line of rails already occupied by the carriages, the humour of the situation will be greatly improved. Before playing this joke, it will be as well to lock the carriage-doors, and to carefully sever the cord of communication existing (on some lines) between the passengers and the guard.
A Comical Meal.—On a long journey promise that the train shall stop at a stated station ten minutes for refreshments. Lose time in the customary manner, and allow the train to arrive at the stated station half an hour late. Permit the passengers to descend and to enter the refreshment-rooms. The moment they are served, drive them back hurriedly into the carriages with the threat that if they are not immediately seated in their places they will be left behind. When the passengers are once more in their compartments, the carriage-doors should be securely locked, and the train can then remain waiting beside the platform for three-quarters of an hour.
The Strange Companions.—Invite ladies and gentlemen to travel in a first-class carriage. When the compartment is a third full, over-fill it with "merry" excursionists holding third-class tickets. The contrast between the "merriment" of the excursionists and the disgust of the ladies and gentlemen will be found a source of never-ending amusement.
A Wholesome Joke (added by Mr. Punch and suggested to the Passengers).—Whenever you find yourselves subjected to the "fun" of the railway officials, write to the newspapers and obtain a summons against the directors of the company which you believe to be in fault. Verb. sap.
"Half third return to Brixton, please."
"Half! What's your age?"
"I'm thirteen at home; but I'm only nine and a half on railways."
Friend (to minor rail official at provincial station) "'Ullo Cocky, where 'ave you been all this time?"
Minor R.O. (with dignity). "Oh I had to go up on duty for the Naval Review at Spit'ead, I 'ad."
Friend (impressed). "Ah! Fine sight I expect it wur?"
Minor R.O. "Well, I can't say as I saw much of it. I war taking the tickets at Vaux'all!"
AN EXCITING TIME
Poor Jones is convinced that his worst fears are at last realised, and he is left alone with a dangerous lunatic!! (It was only little Wobbles running anxiously over the points of his coming speech to the electors of Plumpwell-on-Tyme!!)
A TRAGEDY ON THE GREAT NORTHERN
Scene—A third-class carriage. Time—Three hours before the next station. Dramatis Personæ—Jones and Robinson.
"It's the last!—and it's a Tändstickor. It'll only strike on the box!"
"Strike it on the box, then;—but for Heaven's sake, be careful!"
"Yes; but, like a fool, I've just pitched the box out of window!"
"WHAT'S SAUCE FOR THE GOOSE," &c.
Passenger (in second class). "I think I've got into the wrong carriage."
Ticket Inspector (sternly). "The difference must be paid!"
Passenger (triumphantly). "Oh, just so! Then I'll trouble you for three shillings—I've a first-class ticket!"
A REMINDER
Old Lady. "Now, porter, you're quite sure you've put all my luggage in?—the big portmantle and——"
Porter. "All right, mum."
Old Lady. "And you're certain I've not left anything behind——"
Porter. "No, mum, not even a copper!"
NOTES OF TRAVEL
The Cunard "Special" full speed for London
John Bull (of the World in general). "There is nothing to be alarmed at. Surely your American trains go much faster than this?"
Jonathan (from the West in particular). "Why, yaas. But 'tain't that. I'm afeard it'll run off your darned little island!"
Impatient Traveller. "Er—how long will the next train be, portah?"
Porter. "Heaw long? Weel, sir ah dunno heaw ah con saay to hauf an inch. Happen there'll be fower or five co-aches an' a engine or soa."
THE LEVEL CROSSING
"Are there no more trains this evening on the up line, porter?"
"No, mum."
"And no more trains on the down line?"
"No, mum."
"Is there no special train?"
"No, mum."
"Nor an excursion train?"
"No, mum. The gates are to for the rest of the evening."
"You're quite sure?"
"Yes, mum."
"Then come, Amelia. We can cross the line!"
Old Maid. "Is this a smoking compartment, young man?"
Obliging Passenger. "No, mum. 'Igher up!"
THE MISSING SPINSTER
You may boast your great improvements,
Your inventions and your "movements,"
For those who stay at home, and those who travel;
But arrangements for the latter
Are so complex, that the matter
Makes them dotty as a hatter
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.
The Way of the Whirled.—The rail-way.
"Very Hard Lines."—The railways.
RAILWAY AMALGAMATION—A PLEASANT STATE OF THINGS
Passenger. "What's the matter, guard?"
Guard (with presence of mind). "Oh, nothing particular, sir. We've only run into an excursion train!"
Passenger. "But, good gracious! there's a train just behind us, isn't there?"
Guard. "Yes, sir! But a boy has gone down the line with a signal; and it's very likely they'll see it!"
METROPOLITAN RAILWAY TYPES.
| The party that never says, "Thank you!" | The party that always says, "Thank you!" |
When you open the door, shut the window, or give up your seat for her.
THE THIRD-CLASS TRAVELLER'S PETITION
Pity the sorrows of a third-class man,
Whose trembling limbs with snow are whitened o'er,
Who for his fare has paid you all he can:
Cover him in, and let him freeze no more!
This dripping hat my roofless pen bespeaks,
So does the puddle reaching to my knees;
Behold my pinch'd red nose—my shrivell'd cheeks:
You should not have such carriages as these.
In vain I stamp to warm my aching feet,
I only paddle in a pool of slush;
My stiffen'd hands in vain I blow and beat;
Tears from my eyes congealing as they gush.
Keen blows the wind; the sleet comes pelting down,
And here I'm standing in the open air!
Long is my dreary journey up to Town,
That is, alive, if ever I get there.
Oh! from the weather, when it snows and rains,
You might as well, at least, defend the poor;
It would not cost you much, with all your gains:
Cover us in, and luck attend your store.
A CAUTION
No wonder Miss Lavinia Stitchwort thought the people very rude at the station when she went for her "water-proof" (which she had lost on the railway some time before). She found out when she got home she had not removed the "unclaimed property" label!
Nervous Party. "The train seems to be travelling at a fearful pace, ma'am."
Elderly Female. "Yus, ain't it? My Bill's a-drivin' of the ingin, an' 'e can make 'er go when 'e's got a drop o drink in 'im!"
The Origin of Railways.—The first idea of railways is of very ancient date, for we hear of the Great Norman line immediately after the Conquest.
Railway News.—There is an old lady who says, that she always likes to travel by a trunk line, because then she feels confidence about the safety of her luggage.
"Railway Coupling."—When the porter marries the young lady in the refreshment department.
THE FIRST "BRADSHAW"
A reminiscence of Whitsun Holidays in Ancient Egypt. From an old-time tabl(e)ature
Railway Reform.—Compartments to be reserved for ladies over and under a certain age.
As there will invariably be compartments for those who smoke, so also for those who snuff. The former will be labelled as usual "for Smokers," the latter "for Snuffers." The last-mentioned will be tried as far as Hampton Wick.
The "Sleeping Cars" will be divided into "Snorers" and "Non-Snorers." Tickets will be issued subject to these regulations.
It is important to the Shareholders to know that on and after the abolition of the Second Class, the motto of the Company will be "No Returns."
A Plutocrat.—Swell. "'Dyou oblige me—ah—by shutting your window?—ah——"
Second Passenger (politely). "Really, sir, if you will not press it, as yours is shut, the air is so warm I would rather keep this open. You seem to take great care of yourself, sir——"
Swell. "Care of myself! Should wather think so. So would you, my dear fel-lah, if you'd six thousand a ye-ar!!"
THE SLOW TRAIN
On Southern lines the trains which crawl
Deliberately to and fro
Make life a burden; of them all
This is the slowest of the slow.
Impatiently condemned to bear
What is indeed an awful bore,
I've seemed to be imprisoned there
The angry passengers complain;
Of new electric cabs they talk.
They sit and swear at such a train,
And ask, "Shall we get out and walk?"
It's true the time seems extra long
When spent in such a wretched way,
My calculation may be wrong—
Three hours, say.
The other day I had to come
By this slow train, but facing me
Was no old buffer, dull and dumb;
I chatted with my vis-Ã -vis.
A pretty smile, a pretty dress,
Gay spirits no fatigue could crush;
With her it was a quick express,
Three minutes' rush.
For once I sadly left the train,
For once the time too quickly passed.
I still could angrily complain,
Why travel so absurdly fast?
At lightning speed that special went
(I'd paid the ordinary fare),
Now looking back it seems we spent
Three seconds there.
A BANK HOLIDAY SKETCH
Facetious Individual (from carriage window). "Change 'ere, 'ave we? Then kindly oblige me with a sardine-opener!"
Wednesbury Station.—First Collier. "Trains leave for Birmingham, 10.23 a.m., 6.23 p.m."
Second Collier. "What's p.m.?"
First Do. "A penny a mile, to be sure."
Second Do. "Then, what's a.m.?"
First Do. "Why, that must be a a'penny a mile."
RAILWAY LUXURIES
Excursionist. "I say—'ere! This water's full o'crumbs!"
Aquarius. "That ain't crumbs! That's only the sawdust off the hice!"
RAILWAY AND SOCIAL SYNONYMS
'Traction Engines.—Too many Girls of the Period.
Truck-Trains.—Most marriage processions at St. George's, Hanover Square.
Continuous Brakes.—The results of lodging house attendance.
Changing Lines.—What we often see after the honeymoon.
Shunted on to a Siding.—Paterfamilias when Baby appears.
A party who is quite in favour of light railways for town and country.
OUR COUNTRY COUSINS
The Gushington girls have just arrived by rail, and are inhaling the odours of an average London terminus.
Miss Milly Gushington. "Wait a bit, uncle." (Sniff.) "Oh, isn't it lovely, Hilly? Doesn't it just smell of the season?"
Miss Hilly Gushington. "Don't speak about it—only sniff!"
THE TOURIST'S ALPHABET
(Railway Edition)
A is the affable guard whom you square:
B is the Bradshaw which leads you to swear:
C is the corner you fight to obtain:
D is the draught of which others complain:
E are the enemies made for the day:
F is the frown that you wear all the way:
G is the guilt that you feel going third:
H is the humbug by which you're deterred:
I is the insult you'll get down the line:
J is the junction where you'll try to dine:
K is the kettle of tea three weeks old:
L are the lemon drops better unsold:
M is the maiden who says there's no meat:
N is the nothing you thus get to eat:
O is the oath that you use—and do right:
P is the paper to which you don't write:
Q are the qualms to directors unknown:
R is the row which you'll find all your own:
S is the smash that is "nobody's fault:"
T is the truth, that will come to a halt:
U is the pointsman—who's up the whole night:
V is the verdict that says it's "all right."
W stands for wheels flying off curves:
X for express that half shatters your nerves:
Y for the yoke from your neck that you fling,
and Z for your zest as you cut the whole thing!
STARTLING!
Constable (to nervous passenger, arrived by the Ramsgate train). "I've got yer"—("Ger-acious Heavens!" thinks little Skeery with a thrill of horror. "Takes me for somebody that's 'wanted'!")—"a cab, sir.">[
"THE MORE HASTE THE WORSE SPEED"
Scene—The Charing Cross Station of the District Railway.
Country Cousin, bound for Bayswater, to ticket clerk, with scrupulous politeness. If you please, I want a first-class ticket to Bayswater.
Ticket Clerk (abruptly). No first-class here. Go to the next booking-place.
[Country Cousin retires rebuffed, and finds his way to next booking-place.
Country Cousin. If you please, I want a first-class ticket to Bayswater.
Ticket Clerk (explosively). Single or return? Look sharp! You're not the only person in London!
Country Cousin (humbly). Single, please.
[The ticket and change are slapped down unceremoniously, and Country Cousin is shoved on from behind by an impatient City man. Rushes precipitately down brass-bound steps, and presents his ticket to be snipped.
Snipper (inspecting ticket). Queen's Road, Bayswater? Wrong side! Go up the stairs, and turn to the right. Look sharp! There's a train just coming in!
[Country Cousin, with a deepened sense of humiliation and bewilderment, hurries upstairs, turns to the right, and reaches entrance to platform just in time to have gate slammed in his face. The train being gone, gate is re-opened, and the necessary snipping performed on his ticket.
Country Cousin (to Snipper, politely). If you please—will the next train take me to Queen's Road, Bayswater?
Saturnine Official. Can't tell you till the train comes.
[Country Cousin paces the platform in moody silence, and wishes he had taken a cab. Enter train, rushing madly along.
Stentorian voice (without stops). Earl's Court North End and Hammersmith train first and second-class forward third behind!
[Country Cousin makes his way towards a carriage, but finds it full. Tries another with the same result, and is frantically endeavouring to open the door of a third-class compartment in which there is one vacant seat next a fat woman with a baby, when train moves on.
Indignant Official. Stand away there! Stand away, will you! (Drags back Country Cousin.) That ain't your train! What do you want a-tryin to get in there for?
[Country Cousin, in deeper humiliation, re-arranges dress, disturbed by recent struggle and resumes his agitated march.
Enter another train more madly than the first.
Stentorian voice. High Street Kensington Notting Hill Gate and Bayswater train main line train!
Country Cousin (to Haughty Official, in an agony of entreaty). Is this train for Queen's Road, Bayswater?
Haughty Official. Yes, Queen's Road. Look sharp! She'll be off in a minute.
[Country Cousin scrambles through the crowd to a carriage; drops his umbrella; stoops to pick it up and on rising finds train three parts through the tunnel. Exit Country Cousin in a rage, to get a cab, having lost twenty minutes, the price of his unused ticket, his self-respect, and that of everybody he has come in contact with in the Metropolitan District Railway Station.
WHEN IN DOUBT—DON'T!
Scene—Country Station
Gent. "Are the sandwiches fresh, my boy?"
Country Youth. "Don't know, I'm sure, sir. I've only been here a fortnight!"
A DILEMMA
Station-Master. "Now then! Look alive with they dougs! Where are you——"
Overdriven Porter. "Hoots! they've a' eaten their tuck'ts, an' dinna ken fa the're gaen tae!"
RISKS
Shrewd Clerk (with an eye to his percentage). "Take an accident insurance ticket, sir?"
Passenger (nervously). "Wha' for?!"
Clerk. "Well, sir, nothing has gone wrong 'twixt this and London for the last fourteen months; and, by the haverages, the next smash on the hup line is hoverdue exactly six weeks and three days!!"
[Old Gent forks out with alacrity.
TO MY "PUFF PUFF"
Puff me away from the noise and the worry;
Puff me away from the desolate town;
Puff me—but don't be in too great a hurry;
Puff me, but don't in a tunnel break down.
Puff me away to my loved Isle of Thanet
Swiftly—or e'en at the pace called the snail's,
Puff me the sea-breeze, and pleasantly fan it
Into my nostrils—but don't leave the rails.
Puff me away, far from Parliament's houses;
For brown moors of Scotland my soul is athirst—
For a smell of the heather, a pop at the grouses;
Puff me, but mind that your boiler don't burst.
Puff me en route for care-killing Killarney,
Tenderly take me, as bridegroom his bride;
Bear me towards Erin, blest birthplace of Blarney,
Puff, puff, like blazes—but, please, don't "collide!"
DIGNITY AND IMPUDENCE
Customer (Time—Saturday afternoon). "I don't want all coppers in change for that shilling. Haven't you got any silver?"
Newsboy. "All right, sir. Want a little Sunday money, I s'pose, sir?"
TO A RAILWAY FOOT-WARMER
At first I loved thee—thou wast warm,—
The porter called thee "'ot," nay, "bilin'."
I tipped him as thy welcome form
He carried, with a grateful smile, in.
Alas! thou art a faithless friend,
Thy warmth was but dissimulation;
Thy tepid glow is at an end,
And I am nowhere near my station!
I shiver, cold in feet and hands,
It is a legal form of slaughter,
They don't warm (!) trains in other lands
With half a pint of tepid water.
I spurn thy coldness with a kick,
And pile on rugs as my protectors,
I'd send—to warm them—to Old Nick,
Thy parsimonious directors!
Different Ways of Travelling.—Man travels to expand his ideas; but woman—judging from the number of boxes she invariably takes with her—travels only with the object of expanding her dresses.
"The Best of Motives."—Locomotives.
"A LIBERAL MEASURE"
Rude Boy (to stout party on weighing-machine, which is out of order, and won't work). "Shove in another penny, guv'nor. It's double fare to chaps o' your size!"
Foxhunter's Definition of a Mail-Train.—A Post and Rails.
As a Rule.—"Signal Failures"—Railway accidents.
Three Railway Gauges.—Trains are made for the Broad Gauge, the Narrow Gauge, and the Lug-gage.
ZOOLOGY
Railway Porter (to old lady travelling with a menagerie of pets). "'Station-master say, mum, as cats is 'dogs,' and rabbits is 'dogs,' and so's parrots; but this ere 'tortis' is a insect, so there ain't no charge for it!"
LOGIC
Stout Party. "What! no room! Ain't that man just got out? If people can get out, people can get in!"
The Quickest of all Express Trains.—The train of thought.
Startling Railway Accident.—A punctual train.
Keep Your Temper.—Avoid entering into an argument with a deaf man in a railway carriage, as it is sure to lead to high words.
"Don't Touch me, or I'll Scream!" as the engine whistle said to the stoker.
"A MAN AND A PASSENGER!"
Sweep. "'Elp us up with my luggage, mate!"
VOCES POPULI
I
Scene—Interior of Third-Class Smoking Compartment. First Passenger, apparently a small Suburban Tradesman, of a full and comfortable habit, seated by window. To him enters a seedy but burly Stranger, in a state of muzzy affability, with an under-suggestion of quarrelsomeness.
The Stranger (leaning forward mysteriously). Yer saw that gentleman I was a torkin' to as I got in? Did yer know 'oo he was?
First Passenger (without hauteur, but with the air of a person who sets a certain value on his conversation). Well, he didn't look much like the Archbishop of Canterbury.
The S. He's a better man than 'im! That was Brasher, the middling weight! he giv me the orfice straight about Killivan and Smifton, he did!
First P. (interested, as a lover of the Noble Art of Self Defence). Ah! did he, though?
The S. He did; I went up to him, and I sez, "Excuse me," I sez, like that, I sez, "but are you an American, or a German?"
First P. (with superiority). He wouldn't like that—being taken for a German.
The S. (solemnly). Those were my very words! And he sez, "No, I'm a Yank," and then I knoo 'oo 'e was, d'ye see? and so (hazily) one word brought up another, and we got a torkin'. If I was to tell you I'd seen Killivan, I should be tellin' yer a lie!
First P. Well, I won't ask you to do that.
The S. (firmly). Nor I wouldn't. But you've on'y to look at Smifton to see 'e's never 'ad a smack on the 'ed. Now, there's Sulton—'e's a good man, 'e is—'e is a good man! Look 'ow that feller knocks 'isself about! But if I was to pass my opinion, it 'ud be this—Killivan's in it for science, he ain't in it to take anything; you may take that from me!
First P. (objecting to be treated as an ingénu). It's not the first time I've heard of it, by a long way.
The S. Ah! and it's the truth, the Bible truth (putting his hand on First P.'s knee). Now, you b'leeve what I'm a'goin' to tell yer?
First P. (his dignity a little ruffled). I will—if it's anything in reason.
The S. It's this: My opinion of Killivan and Sulton's this—Sulton brought Killivan out. I'm on'y tellin' yer from 'earsay, like; but I know this myself—one lived in 'Oxton, and the other down Bermondsey way. 'E's got a nice little butcher's business there at this present moment; and 'e's a mug if 'e turns it up!
First P. (axiomatically). Every man's a mug who turns a good business up.
The S. Yer right! And (moralising) it ain't all 'oney with that sort o' people, neither, I can tell yer! I dessay, now, when all's put to the test, you're not a moneyed man—no more than I am myself?
First P. (not altogether flattered). Well—that's as may be.
The S. But I b'leeve yer to be a man o' the world, although I don't know yer.
First P. (modestly). I used to be in it at one time.
The S. (confidentially). I'm in it now. I don't get my livin' by it, though, mind yer. I'm a mechanic, I am—to a certain extent. I've been in America. There's a country now—they don't over-tax like they do 'ere!
First P. (sympathetically). There you 'ave touched a point—we're taxed past all common sense. Why, this very tobacco I'm smoking now is charged——
The S. Talkin' of terbaccer, I don't mind 'aving a pipe along with yer myself.
First P. (handing his pouch with a happy mixture of cordiality and condescension). There you are, then.
The S. (afflicted by sudden compunction as he fills his pipe). I 'ope I'm not takin' a libbaty in askin yer?
First P. Liberty? rubbish! I'm not one to make distinctions where I go. I'd as soon talk to one man as I would another—you're setting your coat alight.
The S. I set fire to myself once, and I never live in 'opes of doing so agen! It's a funny thing with me, I can smoke a cigar just as well as I could a short pipe. I'm no lover of a cigar, if you understand me; but I can go into company where they are, d'ye see?
First P. (shortly). I see.
The S. (with fresh misgivings). You'll excuse me if I've taken a libbaty with yer!
First P. (with a stately air). We settled all that just now.
The S. (after a scrutiny). I tell yer what my idear of you is—that you're a Toff!
First P. (disclaiming this distinction a little uneasily). No, no—there's nothing of the toff about me!
The S. (defiantly). Well, you're a gentleman, anyway?
First P. (aphoristic, but uncomfortable). We can all of us be that, so long as we behave ourselves.
The S. (much pleased by this sentiment). Right agen! give us yer 'and—if it's not takin a libbaty. I'm one of them as can't bear to take a libbaty with no matter 'oo. Yer know it's a real pleasure to me to be settin' 'ere torkin' comfortably to you, without no thought of either of us fallin' out. There's some people as wouldn't feel 'appy, not without they was 'aving a row. Now you and me ain't like that!
First P. (shifting about). Quite so—quite so, of course!
The S. Not but what if it was to come to a row between us, I could take my part!
First P. (wishing there was somebody else in the compartment). I—I hope we'll keep off that.
The S. (devoutly). So do I! I 'ope we'll keep off o' that. But yer never know what may bring it on—and there it is, d'ye see! You and me might fall out without intending it. I've bin a bit of a boxer in my day. Do you doubt my word?—if so, say it to my face!
First P. I've no wish to offend you, I'm sure.
The S. I never take a lie straight from any man, and there you 'ave me in a word! If you're bent on a row, you'll find me a glutton, that's all I can tell you!
First P. (giving himself up for lost). But I'm not bent on a row—qu—quite otherwise!
The S. You should ha' said so afore, because, when my back's once put up, I'm—'ello! we're stopping, I get out 'ere, don't I?
First P. (eagerly). Yes—make haste, they don't stay long anywhere on this line!
The S. (completely mollified). Then I'll say good-bye to yer. (Tenderly.) P'raps we may meet agen, some day.
First P. We—we'll hope so—good day to you, wish you luck!
The S. (solemnly). Lord love yer! (Pausing at door.) I 'ope you don't think me the man to fall out with nobody. I never fall out——
[Falls out into the arms of a porter, whom he pummels as the train moves on, and First Passenger settles into a corner with a sigh of relief.
NOT QUITE UP TO DATE
Somerset Rustic (on seeing the signal drop). "Ar don't know if it'd make any difference, maister, but thic ther' bit o' board of yourn 'ave a fallen down!"
NOTES OF TRAVEL
Foreign Husband (whose wife is going to remain longer). "Gif me two dickets. Von for me to come back, and von for my vife not to come back!"
IN THE UNDERGROUND
Lady (who has just entered carriage, to friend). "Fancy finding you in the train! Why couldn't I have met you yesterday, now? I had such a wretched journey! But one never does meet people when one wants to!"
LA BELLE DAME SANS "MERCI"
"TOUT VIENT À QUI SAIT ATTENDRE"
Shouting heard—engine whistles frantically—breaks applied violently—train stops—accident, no doubt—alarm of first-class passengers—stout gent flies at communicator—child shrieks—terrified lady calls out, "Help! guard! What is it? Let us out!"
Guard. "Oh, no fear, miss. On'y driver he just see a lot o' fine mushyroons, miss, and we——he like 'em for breakfast. All right! Away y' go!!"
A STATION ON THE NORTH STAFFORDSHIRE LINE
Traveller. "Now then, boy, where's the clerk who gives the ticket?"
Boy (after finishing an air he was whistling). "I'm the clerk."
Traveller. "Well, sir! And what time does the train leave for London?"
Boy. "Oh, I don't know. No time in pertickler. Sometimes one time—and sometimes another."
TRYING POSITION OF AN ELDERLY GENTLEMAN
He determines to try the automatic photographing machine, the station being empty. To his dismay a crowd has gathered, and watches the operation.
Workman (politely, to old lady, who has accidentally got into a smoking compartment). "You don't object to my pipe, I 'ope, mum?"
Old Lady. "Yes, I do object, very strongly!"
Workman. "Oh! Then out you get!!"
A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY LONG AFTER STERNE'S
(A Romance for a "Ladies Only" Compartment)
Scene—Reserved Carriage on the London and Utopian Railway. Female Traveller in possession. Enter, suddenly, a Male Traveller.
Male Traveller. A thousand apologies! I really nearly missed my train, so was obliged to take refuge in this carriage. Trust I don't intrude.
Fem. T. (after a pause). As you have no one to present you, I must ask "if you are any lady's husband?"
Male T. (with a sigh). Alas, no! I am a wretched bachelor!
Fem. T. (drily). That is nothing out of the common. I have been given to understand that all bachelors are miserable.
Male T. No doubt your husband agrees with the opinion?
Fem. T. (calmly). I have no experience. I am a spinster.
Male T. (smiling). Indeed! And you selected a ladies' carriage?
Fem. T. (quickly). Because there was no room anywhere else.
Male T. Well, well! At the next station I can get into a smoking compartment.
Fem. T. Surely there is no need to take so much trouble.
Male T. Why! don't you object to a cigar?
Fem. T. Not in the least. The fact is, I smoke myself!
[Red fire and tobacco.
Male T. (after a pause). I have it on my conscience to make a correction. I said just now that I was not somebody's husband.
Fem. T. (annoyed). Then you are married!
Male T. (with intention). Well, not yet. But if you like you can receive me as somebody's betrothed.
Fem. T. (regardless of grammar). Who's somebody?
Male T. (smiling). Think of your own name.
Fem. T. What next?
Male T. Why, give it to me; and if you like you shall have mine in exchange. (Train arrives at a station.)
Guard (without). All change!
[And later on they do.
The Patron Saint of Railways.-St. Pan-crash.
A NON-SEQUITUR
Affable Old Gentleman (who has half a minute to spare). "I suppose now, my boy, you take a good sum of money during the day?"
Shoeblack. "Yessur, 'cause lots o' gintleman, when they wants to ketch a train, gives me sixpence!"
[Old gent finds the sixpence, but in thinking over it afterwards, couldn't see the connection.
THE TWOPENNY TUBE
"Hi, guv'nor, there ain't no station named on this ticket!"
"No; all our tickets are alike."
"Then, 'ow do I know where I'm going?"
HIGHLY ACCOMMODATING
Stout Party (rather hot). "Hope you don't find the breeze too much, sir?"
Fellow Passenger. "Oh! not at all, sir! I rather like it!"
SKYLIGHT VIEW—A RAILWAY STATION
Traveller (to Irish porter labelling luggage). "Don't you keep a brush for that work, porter?"
Porter. "No, yer honour. Our tongues is the only insthrumints we're allowed. But—they're aisy kep' wet, yer honour!"
[Hint taken.
IN A SLOW TRAIN
"Look out for squalls"—on land or sea—
Where duty or where pleasure calls,
A golden rule it seems to be,
Look out for squalls.
Yet in a train that slowly crawls
Somehow it most appeals to me.
For then sometimes, it so befalls,
An infant on its mother's knee
In my compartment Fate installs—
Which makes a nervous man, you see,
Look out for squalls!
RAILWAY MAXIMS
(Perfectly at the Service of any Railway Company)
Delays are dangerous.
A train in time saves nine.
Live and let live.
After a railway excursion, the doctor.
Do not halloo till you are out of the train.
Between two trains we fall to the ground.
Fire and water make good servants but bad masters.
A director is known by the company he keeps.
A railway train is the thief of time.
There is no place like home—but the difficulty is to get there.
The farther you go, the worse is your fare.
It's the railway pace that kills.
The great charm about a railway accident is that, no matter how many lives are lost, "no blame is ever attached to any one."
A railway is long, but life is short—and generally the longer a railway, the shorter your life.
A Distinction with a Difference.—Disappointed Porter (to Mate). I thought you said he was a gentleman.
Mate. No, that's where you mistook me. I said he was a gent.
Sylvanus. "Foxes are scarce in my country; but we manage it with a drag now and then!"
Urbanus. "Oh—er—yes. But how do you get it over the fences?"
Porter. "Now, marm, will you please to move, or was you corded to your box?"
"THERE BE LAND RATS"
Jack Ashore. "Bill, just keep a heye on my jewel-case 'ere while I go and get the tickets. There's a lot o' sharks always cruisin' about these railway stations, I've heard!"
AFTER AN EASTERTIDE FESTIVITY—ON THE INNER CIRCLE
Guard. "Where are you for?"
Old Gent. "I'm oright—Edgware Road."
Guard. "Well, mind you get out this time. You've been round three times!"
RAILWAY SCALE OF MANNERS
We have often been struck with the difference of manner assumed by railway officials towards different people. Shut your eyes, and you can tell from the tone of their voices whom they are addressing. The following examples will best illustrate our meaning. The railway potentate is calling upon the passengers to get their tickets ready. He calls:
To the Third Class.—Fortissimè.—"Tickets, tickets; come get your tickets ready."
To the Second Class.—Fortè.—"Tickets, gents; get your tickets ready, gents."
To the First Class.—Piano.—"Get your tickets ready, gentlemen, if you please; tickets ready, if you please, gentlemen."
Lady. "Can I book through from here to Oban?"
Well-educated Clerk (correcting her). "Holborn, you mean. No; but you can book to Broad Street, and then take a 'bus!"
EPITAPH ON A LOCOMOTIVE.
By the sole survivor of a deplorable accident (no blame to be attached to any servants of the company)
Collisions four
Or five she bore,
The signals wor in vain;
Grown old and rusted,
Her biler busted,
And smash'd the Excursion Train.
Epitaph for a Railway Director.—"His life was spent on pleasant lines."
MUDDLEBY JUNCTION
Overworked Pointsman (puzzled). "Let's see!—there's the 'scursion' were due at 4.45, and it ain't in; then, afore that, were the 'mineral,'—no! that must ha' been the 'goods,'—or the 'cattle.' No! that were after,—cattle's shunting now. Let's see!—fast train came through at——Con-found!—and here comes 'the express' afore its time, and blest if I know which line she's on!!"
TEA IN TEN MINUTES
(A SONG AT A RAILWAY STATION)
Air—"Thee, Thee, only Thee"
Ten minutes here! The sun is sinking,
And longingly we've long been thinking
Of Tea, Tea, fragrant Tea!
The marble slabs we gather round.
They're long in bringing what is wanted,
The china cup with draught em-brown'd,
Our thirsty souls are wholly haunted
By Tea, Tea, fragrant Tea!
Now then, you waiter, stir, awaken!
Time's up. I'll hardly save my bacon.
Tea, Tea, bring that Tea!
At last! The infusion's rayther dark.
But hurry up! Can't stay for ever!
One swig! Br-r-r-r! Hang the cunning shark!
Will't never cool? Nay, never, never!
Tea, Tea, scalding Tea!
More milk; don't be an hour in bringing!
Heavens! That horrid bell is ringing!
"Take your seats, please!" Can't touch the Tea!
Cup to the carriage must not take;
Crockery may be lost, or broken;
Refreshment sharks are wide awake.
But—many a naughty word is spoken
O'er Tea, Tea, scalding Tea!
BEHIND THE SCENES
Head Barmaid. "These tarts are quite stale, Miss Hunt—been on the counter for a fortnight! Would you mind taking them into the second-class refreshment-room?"
A LUSUS MACHINER—Æ
Chatty Passenger. "Porter! That's one of those curious tailless Manx cats, is it not?"
Crusty Porter (shortly). "No, 'taint. Morn'g 'xpress!"
Passenger (puzzled). "E—h—I don't understand——"
Porter. "Don't yer? Well, you come and put your toe on these 'ere down metals about 9.14 a.m. to-morrow, and——"
Passenger (enlightened). "Ah!—I see—jus' so——"
[Retires under cover of newspaper.
RAILWAY COMPANIONS
(By a Disagreeable Traveller)
I.
I have come to the conclusion that the railway train exercises a sinister influence upon the human race. Persons who are tolerable—or even welcome—in ordinary daily life, become peculiarly obnoxious so soon as they enter the compartment of a train. No fairy prince ever stepped into a railway train—assuming he favoured that means of locomotion—without being transformed straightway into a Beast, and even Beauty herself could not be distinguished from her disagreeable sisters—in a train.
Speaking for myself, railway travelling invariably brings to the surface all my worst qualities.
My neighbour opposite hazards some remark. I feel immediately a fit of taciturnity coming over me, and an overpowering inclination to retreat behind a fortification of journals and magazines. On the other hand, say that I have exhausted my stock of railway literature—or, no remote possibility, that the literature has exhausted me—then I make a casual remark about the weather. The weather is not usually considered a controversial topic: in railway trains, however, it becomes so.
"Rain! not a bit," says a passenger in the far corner, evidently meditating a walking tour, and he views me suspiciously as if I were a rain-producer.
"And a good thing too," remarks the man opposite. "It's wanted badly, I tell you, sir—very badly. It's all very well for you holiday folk," &c., &c.
And all this bad feeling because of my harmless well-intentioned remark.
The window is up. "Phew!... stuffy," says the man opposite. "You don't mind, I hope, the window—eh?" "Not in the least," I say, and conceive a deadly hatred for him. I know from experience that directly that window is down all the winds of heaven will conspire to rush through, bearing upon them a smoky pall. I resign myself, therefore, to possible bronchitis and inflammation of the eye. Schoolboys, I may remark by the way, are the worst window offenders, owing to their diabolical practice of looking out of window in a tunnel—and, of course, nothing ever happens to them. What's the use of expostulating after the compartment is full of yellow, choking vapour. These boys should be leashed together like dogs and conveyed in the luggage-van.
The window is down. "W-h-oop," coughs an elderly man. "Do you mind, sir, that window being closed?" Polite mendacity and inward bitterness on my part towards the individual who has converted the compartment into an oven.
But there are worse companions even than these, of whom I must speak another time.
II.
I have known people thoughtlessly speak well of the luncheon-basket. In my opinion, the luncheon-basket arouses the worst passions of human nature, and is a direct incentive to deeds of violence. To say this is to cast an aspersion upon the refreshment contractor, who is evidently a man of touchingly simple faith and high imagination. Simple faith assuredly, for does he not provide on the principle that our insides are hardy and vigorous and unspoilt by the art of cooking? High imagination most certainly, otherwise he would never call that red fluid by the name of claret.
No, it is to the social rather than to the gastronomic influence of the luncheon-basket that I wish to advert.
Once I procured a luncheon-basket and with it came the demon of discontent and suspicion, converting three neutral people into deadly enemies.
One was a pale young man who had been scowling over Browning and making frantic notes on the margin of the book. Personally, I don't think it quite decent for pale young men to improve their minds in a public conveyance—but at any rate he had seemed harmless. Now he raised his eyes and viewed me with undisguised contempt. "Wretched glutton," he said in effect, and when accidentally I burned my mouth with mustard (which a sudden swerve had sent meandering in a yellow stream across the chicken and ham), he gave a sneering, callous smile, which reminded me that a man may smile and smile and be a—railway companion.
I verily believe that youth to be capable of any crime, even Extension lecturing.
Then there was a young lady reading a sixpenny Braddon, who viewed me as if I were some monster; when I shut my eyes and gulped off some—er—claret, she brought biscuits and lemonade from a small bag and refreshed herself with ostentatious simplicity, as if to say, "Look upon this picture and on the wine-bibbing epicurean in the corner." An old lady with her was more amply provided for (old ladies usually take more care of their insides than anyone else in creation), but although she munched sandwiches and washed them down with sherry (probably sweet, ugh!) luxuriously, she looked with pious horror at my plates and dishes spread out. I might have said, "Madam, I eat frankly and openly; my resources may be viewed by all. Your secret and delusive bags have limitless resources that you are ashamed to show."
I didn't say so; but the restraint placed on myself quite spoilt the lunch. No more baskets.
À FORTIORI
Ticket Collector. "Now, then, make haste! Where's your ticket?"
Bandsman (refreshed). "Au've lost it!"
Ticket Collector. "Nonsense! Feel in your pockets. Ye cannot hev lost it!"
Bandsman. "Aw cannot? Why, man, au've lost the big drum!"
"JUST OUT!"—(AT ALL THE LIBRARIES)
First Young Lady. "How did you like Convict Life, dear?"
Second Young Lady. "Pretty well. We've just begun Ten Years' Penal Servitude. Some of us like it, but——"
Old Lady (mentally). "Good gracious! What dreadful creatures! So young, too!"
[Looks for the communicating cord!
RATHER SUSPICIOUS
First Passenger. "Had pretty good sport?"
Second Passenger. "No—very poor. Birds wild—rain in torrents—dogs no use. 'Only got fifty brace!"
First Passenger. "'Make birds dear, won't it?"
Second Passenger ("off his guard"). "You're right. I assure you I paid three-and-sixpence a brace all round at Norwich this morning!"
FROM THE GENERAL TO THE PARTICULAR
Young Lady (who has never travelled by this line before). "Do you go to Kew Gardens?"
Booking-Clerk. "Sometimes on a Sunday, miss, on a summer's afternoon!"
A NEW RACE IN AFRICA
Arrival of the Uganda express.
(Twenty minutes ahead of time.)
A LITTLE FARCE AT A RAILWAY STATION
Lady. "I want one ticket—first!" Clerk. "Single?" Lady. "Single! What does it matter to you, sir, whether I'm single or not? Impertinence!"
[Clerk explains that he meant single or return, not t'other thing.
TWO VIEWS OF IT
Brown. "Shockin' thing! You heard of poor Mullins getting his neck broken in that collision!"
Jones. "Ah!—it's as-tonishing how lucky some fellows are! He told me 'last time I saw him he'd just insured his life for three thous'd poun's!!"
INJURED INNOCENCE
"Hulloa! You've no call to be in here! You haven't got a fust-class ticket, I know."
"No! I hain't!"
"Well, come out! This ain't a third-class carriage!"
"Hain't it? Lor! Well I thought it wos, by the look of the passingers!"
Guard. "Some one been smoking, I think?"
Passenger. "What! Smoking! That's very reprehensible. Perhaps it was the clerical gentleman who has just got out of the next compartment."
"NEM. CON.!"
Chatty Passenger (on G. W. Railway). "How plainly you can see the lights of Hanwell from the railway!"
Silent Man (in the corner). "Not half so plain as the lights of the train look from Hanwell!"
[All change at the next station.
RECIPROCAL
Sporting Gentleman. "Well, sir, I'm very pleased to have made your acquaintance, and had the opportunity of hearing a Churchman's views on the question of tithes. Of course, as a country landowner, I'm interested in Church matters, and——"
The Parson. "Quite so—delighted, I'm sure. Er—by the bye, could you tell me what's won to-day?"
RAILWAY LITERATURE
Bookstall Keeper. "Book, ma'am? Yes, ma'am. Here's a popular work by an eminent surgeon, just published, 'Broken Legs: and How to Mend Them': or, would you like the last number of The Railway Operator?"
SATISFACTORY
Bumptious Old Gent (in a directorial tone). "Ah, guard—what are we—ah—waiting for?"
Guard (with unconcern). "Waiting for the train to go on, sir!"
[Old Gent retires.
AN UNDERGROUND SELL
First Passenger. "They say they've put on detectives 'ere, to catch coves as travels without tickets."
Second Passenger. "'Ave they? Well, all I can say is, I can travel as often as I like from Cannon Street to Victoria, and not pay a 'apenny!"
Detective. "See here, mate; I'll give you half-a-crown if you tell me how you do it."
Second Passenger (after pocketing the half-crown). "Well,—when I wants to git from Cannon Street to Victoria without payin'—I walks!"
QUITE UP TO DATE
Cousin Madge. "Well, good-bye, Charlie. So many thanks for taking care of us!"
Charlie. "Not at all!"
VOCES POPULI
II.
On the Platform
A Lady of Family. Oh, yes, I do travel third-class sometimes, my dear. I consider it a duty to try to know something of the lower orders.
[Looks out for an empty third-class compartment.
En Route
The seats are now all occupied: the Lady of Family is in one corner, next to a Chatty Woman with a basket, and opposite to an Eccentric-looking Man with a flighty manner.
The Eccentric Man (to the Lady of Family). Sorry to disturb you, mum, but you're a-setting on one o' my 'am sandwiches.
The L. of F.???!!!
The E. M. (considerately). Don't trouble yourself, mum, it's of no intrinsic value. I on'y put it there to keep my seat.
The Chatty W. (to the L. of F.). I think I've seen you about Shinglebeach, 'ave I not?
The L. of F. It is very possible. I have been staying with some friends in the neighbourhood.
The C. W. It's a nice cheerful place is Shinglebeach; but (confidentially) don't you think it's a very sing'ler thing that in a place like that—a fash'nable place, too—there shouldn't be a single 'am an' beef shop?
The L. of F. (making a desperate effort to throw herself into the question). What a very extraordinary thing, to be sure! Dear, dear me! No ham and beef shop!
The C. W. It's so indeed, mum; and what's more, as I dare say you've noticed for yourself, if you 'appen to want a snack o' fried fish ever so, there isn't a place you could go to—leastways, at a moment's notice. Now, 'ow do you explain such a thing as that?
The L. of F. (faintly). I'm afraid I can't suggest any explanation.
A Sententious Man. Fried fish is very sustaining.
[Relapses into silence for the remainder of journey.
The Eccentric Man. Talking of sustaining, I remember, when we was kids, my father ud bring us home two pennorth o' ches'nuts, and we 'ad 'em boiled, and they'd last us days. (Sentimentally.) He was a kind man, my father (to the L. of F., who bows constrainedly), though you wouldn't ha' thought it, to look at him. I don't say, mind yer, that he wasn't fond of his bit o' booze—(the L. of F. looks out of window)—like the best of us. I'm goin' up to prove his will now, I am—if you don't believe me, 'ere's the probate. (Hands that document round for inspection.) That's all reg'lar enough, I 'ope. (To the L. of F.) Don't give it back before you've done with it—I'm in no 'urry, and there's good reading in it. (Points out certain favourite passages with a very dirty forefinger.) Begin there—that's my name.
[The L. of F. peruses the will with as great a show of interest as she can bring herself to assume.
The Eccentric Man. D'ye see that big 'andsome building over there? That's the County Lunatic Asylum—where my poor wife is shut up. I went to see her last week, I did. (Relates his visit in detail to the L. of F., who listens unwillingly.) It's wonderful how many of our family have been in that asylum from first to last. I 'ad a aunt who died cracky; and my old mother, she's very peculiar at times. There's days when I feel as if I was a little orf my own 'ed, so if I say anything at all out of the way, you'll know what it is.
[L. of F. changes carriages at the next station. In the second carriage are two Men of seafaring appearance, and a young Man who is parting from his Fiancée as the L. of F. takes her seat.
The Fiancé. Excuse me one moment, ma'am.
(Leans across the L. of F. and out of the window.) Well, goodbye, my girl; take care of yourself.
The Fiancée (with a hysterical giggle). Oh, I'll take care o' my self.
[Looks at the roof of the carriage.
He (with meaning). No more pickled onions, eh?
She. What a one you are to remember things! (After a pause.) Give my love to Joe.
He. All right. Well, Jenny, just one, for the last (they embrace loudly, after which the F. resumes his seat with an expression of mingled sentiment and complacency). Oh, (to L. of F.) if you don't mind my stepping across you again, mum. Jenny, if you see Dick between this and Friday, just tell him as——
[Prolonged whispers; sounds of renewed kisses; final parting as train starts with a jerk which throws the Fiancé upon the L. of F.'s lap. After the train is started a gleam of peculiar significance is observable in the eyes of one of the Seafaring Men, who is reclining in an easy attitude on the seat. His companion responds with a grin of intelligence, and produces a large black bottle from the rack. They drink, and hand the bottle to the Fiancé.
The F. Thankee I don't mind if I do. Here's wishing you——
[Remainder of sentiment drowned in sound of glug-glug-glug; is about to hand back bottle when the first Seafarer intimates that he is to pass it on. The L. of F. recoils in horror.
Both Seafarers (reassuringly). It's wine, mum!
[Tableau. The Lady of Family realises that the study of third-class humanity has its drawbacks.
Our Artist (who has strolled into a London terminus). "What's the matter with all these people? Is there a panic?"
Porter. "Panic! No, this ain't no panic. These is excursionists. Their train leaves in two hours, so they want to get a seat!"
THE BRANCH STATION
Miss Tremmles (who is nervous about railways generally, and especially since the late outrages). "Oh, porter, put me into a carriage where there are ladies, or respectable people, or——"
Porter. "Oh, you're all safe this mornin', miss; you're th' only passenger in the whol' tr'ine, except another old woman."
A COOL CARD
Swell (handing "Sporting Life" to Clerical Party). "Aw—would you—aw—do me the favour to wead the list of the waces to me while we're wunning down?—I've—aw—forgotten my eyeglass. Don't mind waising your voice—I'm pwecious deaf!"
THAT IT SHOULD COME TO THIS!
Boy. "Second-class, sir?"
Captain. "I nevah travel second-class!"
Boy. "This way third, sir!"
