sufferin'" like--wasn't it _Uncle Remus's_ Brer Terrapin? (_Catching_
C.'s _look of bewilderment._) What, don't you know _Uncle Remus_?

_Culch._ (_politely_). Mr. TROTTER is the only relation of yours I
have had the pleasure of meeting, as yet.

_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 sideshow. 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._

_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._