THE WALKING ENGLISHWOMAN ON THE ALPS
Reading edition
You who look at home so charming— Angel, goddess, nothing less— Do you know you're quite alarming In that dress? Such a garb should be forbidden; Where's the grace an artist loves? Think of dainty fingers hidden In those gloves! Gloves! A housemaid would not wear them, Shapeless, brown and rough as sacks, Thick! And yet you often tear them With that axe! Worst of all, unblacked, unshiny— Greet them with derisive hoots— Clumsy, huge! For feet so tiny! Oh, those boots!
Scene—Verandah of Swiss Hotel
Brown (finishing very lengthy account of Alpine adventure).
"And then, Miss Jones, then, just as dawn was breaking, I heard the voices of the guides above me, and I knew that I was saved—actually saved! My feelings, as I realised this, may be more easily imagined than described!"
Miss Jones (fervently). "Thank Heaven!"
[And Brown fondly imagined she was alluding to his escape.
CAUTIOUS
Visitor (at out-of-the-way Inn in the North). "Do you know anything about salmon-poaching in the neighbourhood?"
Landlady (whose son is not above suspicion). "Eh—no, sir. Maybe it's a new style of cooking as we haven't heard of in these parts, as you see, sir, we only do our eggs that way; and "—(brightening up)—"if you like 'em, I can get you a dish at once!"