My
cousin stopped. Then Mrs. Furber came in.
R. E. W. "I am very sorry, Mrs. Furber, to hear about Rose."
Mrs. F. "Well, yes sir. But I suppose it is all for the best."
R. E. W. "I am afraid you will miss her a great deal."
Mrs. F. "No doubt we shall, sir; but you see she is only gone a
little while before us."
R. E. W. "Oh, Mrs. Furber, I hope a good long while."
Mrs. F. (brightening). "Well, yes sir, I don't want to go just yet,
though Mr. Furber does say it is a happy thing to die."
My cousin says that Furber hardly knows any one by their real name.
He identifies them by some nickname in connection with the fiddles
they buy from him or get him to repair, or by some personal
peculiarity.
"There is one man," said my cousin, "whom he calls 'diaphragm'
because he wanted a fiddle made with what he called a diaphragm in
it. He knows Dando and Carrodus and Jenny Lind, but hardly any one
else."
"Who is Dando?" said I.
"Why, Dando? Not know Dando? He was George the Fourth's music
master, and is now one of the oldest members of the profession."
Window Cleaning in the British Museum Reading-Room
Once a year or so the figures on the Assyrian bas-reliefs break
adrift and may be seen, with their scaling ladders and all, cleaning
the outside of the windows in the dome of the reading-room. It is
very pretty to watch them and they would photograph beautifully.
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