_Mrs. Frivell_ (_a serious lady_). I don't think fun is at _all_ the right word, FREDERIC. I do _wish_ you wouldn't take these things so lightly. I'm sure it's melancholy enough to look at all these horrid machines, and think-- _Mr. F._ That Torture is a lost art? Isn't that what you were going to say? But it's _not_, you know; we've refined it--that's all. Look at the Photographer, and the Interviewer, and the Pathetic Reciter, and the-- [_Mrs. F. endeavours to convince him that she didn't mean that at all, and that he is comparing totally different things._ _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! _Mrs. Frivell_ (_reading from Catalogue_). "A Penitent's Girdle, made of barbed wire, which, when worn next to the flesh, caused the most unpleasant and uncomfortable irritation." Oh, FREDERIC, just fancy that! _Mr. F._ My dear CECILIA, I can _quite_ fancy it! _Mrs. F._ But I thought these tortures were only for _Malefactors_. Why do they call it a _Penitent's_ Girdle? _Mr. F._ Can't say,--unless because he generally repented having put it on. _Mrs. F._ I don't think that _can_ be the real reason.