Punch, or the London Charivari. Volume 93. August 27, 1887Various
General
Punch, or the London Charivari. Volume 93. August 27, 1887
Various
English wit and humor -- Periodicals
We started. The first victim was a sentinel. UMBUGSOAPYGAS clutched him
by the throat and pulling his head back, tore it off with a crack, like
the popping of a soda-water cork. Then we were upon them. There were
yells, crashes, and blood all over the place. The "Brain-pricker" was
here there and everywhere, scooping out brains just like a cheese-scoop
scoops out cheese to be tasted by the customers of a London butterman.
It really was all very amusing, and in spite of our servants being
absolutely cut to pieces, we were in the gayest spirits imaginable. That
all should end happily, who should turn up at the last moment but
TOTTIE, with a little pail into which the dear child had poured the
heart's blood of some of her persecutors.
"I shot six of them with my own little revolver," said the interesting
infant, as I stroked her golden-hair with my crimson-coloured fingers;
"wasn't it clever of me?"
We had a very good lunch, the _poulet a la Portugaise_ of ADOLPHE being
particularly worthy of a second helping. After this meal was over, I
went to the Rev. BANG MCSAXPENCE, and taking him by the arm, observed,
"I really think you ought to give up this sort of life. You see you owe
a duty to your wife and daughter--especially the latter, who, if she
does not receive any education, and only mixes with bloodthirsty
cannibals, may grow up wild, shunning her kind."
"You are right, SLAUGHTERMAN," replied the Minister, straightening his
carving-knife, which since the night before had severed many a human
rib. "I made up my mind to it this very morning, just before I began my
hacking and slaying. I won't risk another fight, but leave it to a
younger Clergyman. And besides, between you and me, I am well off. It is
thirty thousand pounds I am worth to-day, and every farthing of it made
by honest trade, and savings in the bank at Zanzibar--for living costs
me here next to nothing."
"You are right."
"I am sure of it," answered the Clergyman. "I will turn my back upon
this place in a month. But it will be a wrench--it will be a wrench."[B]
CHAPTER III.--WATER ON THE BRAIN.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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