. Busyman's Magazine, July-December 1907. , obviouslymade in Germany, and to BobToodlecombe, my hosts brother, anhonest trier on the trombone. Thento the Old jNIan—evidently as an af- 88 THE BUSY MANS MAGAZINE terthought. I will at once say thatold man Toodlecombe was not kept up a running fire of gruntsand groans, wheezings and sighings,calculated to make those condemned tobe of his immediate entourage con-template with becoming resignationthe idea of assisting in his early trans-fer to the cold graveyard. I person-ally, could have taken the news ofpapa Toodlecombes passing with aholy
. Busyman's Magazine, July-December 1907. , obviouslymade in Germany, and to BobToodlecombe, my hosts brother, anhonest trier on the trombone. Thento the Old jNIan—evidently as an af- 88 THE BUSY MANS MAGAZINE terthought. I will at once say thatold man Toodlecombe was not kept up a running fire of gruntsand groans, wheezings and sighings,calculated to make those condemned tobe of his immediate entourage con-template with becoming resignationthe idea of assisting in his early trans-fer to the cold graveyard. I person-ally, could have taken the news ofpapa Toodlecombes passing with aholy calm. Then we went in to dinner, which I bowed, and then in silent wonderwatched the huge Teuton deftly bal-ance a poached egg on his knife andthereafter consume it with enjoyment. What will you drink? askedGeorgina, the eldest daughter, smilingsweetly at me. What he can get, grunted theOld Man audibly. Henrietta frownedscathingly in his direction, and theO. M. dried up. In reply to Georgina, I was aboutto say claret, when it suddenly. Mr. Townley, do you know von Trauserstretchaus Scherzo ? proved to be not dinner at all, but asort of glorified tea. The Professor tucked his napkinunder his chin, and wreathed itgracefully around him, as he preparedto attack the dish of poached eggsand bacon. Ach, he said, addressing me,dis fock, it ees zo thick ass I swal-low im down yes, donnerwetter—Iave gom by ze zame drain ass youvrom town. Yes—no—is it not? dawned upon me that tea and coffeewere alone available. I chose thelatter, I dont know on what grounds,but these (the grounds, I mean) wereperfectly apparent as soon as Itackled the mixture of food and the eggs and bacon, mostof which the Professor managed toget outside, buns seemed to be thestaple food of all Brickburians—bunsof the Bath, buns of the rice, bunsof the plum, and buns of the plain MY MUSICAL EVENlNa. 89 order,. I have never been to a BunShow, but doubt if you would see thisindigenous product in any
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