what I finds there; and a whole train of ideas
gets coupled on to him, afore I knows where I am, or where they
comes from. What a Junction a man's thoughts is,' said Mr Toodle,
'to-be-sure!'

This profound reflection Mr Toodle washed down with a pint mug of tea,
and proceeded to solidify with a great weight of bread and butter;
charging his young daughters meanwhile, to keep plenty of hot water in
the pot, as he was uncommon dry, and should take the indefinite quantity
of 'a sight of mugs,' before his thirst was appeased.

In satisfying himself, however, Mr Toodle was not regardless of the
younger branches about him, who, although they had made their own
evening repast, were on the look-out for irregular morsels, as
possessing a relish. These he distributed now and then to the expectant
circle, by holding out great wedges of bread and butter, to be bitten
at by the family in lawful succession, and by serving out small doses of
tea in like manner with a spoon; which snacks had such a relish in the
mouths of these young Toodles, that, after partaking of the same, they
performed private dances of ecstasy among themselves, and stood on
one leg apiece, and hopped, and indulged in other saltatory tokens of
gladness. These vents for their excitement found, they gradually closed
about Mr Toodle again, and eyed him hard as he got through more bread
and butter and tea; affecting, however, to have no further expectations
of their own in reference to those viands, but to be conversing on
foreign subjects, and whispering confidentially.

Mr Toodle, in the midst of this family group, and setting an awful
example to his children in the way of appetite, was conveying the two
young Toodles on his knees to Birmingham by special engine, and was
contemplating the rest over a barrier of bread and butter, when Rob the
Grinder, in his sou'wester hat and mourning slops, presented himself,
and was received with a general rush of brothers and sisters.

'Well, mother!' said Rob, dutifully kissing her; 'how are you, mother?'

'There's my boy!' cried Polly, giving him a hug and a pat on the back.
'Secret! Bless you, father, not he!'

This was intended for Mr Toodle's private edification, but Rob the
Grinder, whose withers were not unwrung, caught the words as they were
spoken.

'What! father's been a saying something more again me, has he?' cried
the injured innocent. 'Oh, what a hard thing it is that when a cove
has once gone a little wro