HOMEBURG MEMORIES ***
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HOMEBURG MEMORIES
[Illustration: Finally the bass catches up with the cornets.
FRONTISPIECE. _See Page 176_]
Homeburg Memories
BY
GEORGE FITCH AUTHOR OF "AT GOOD OLD SIWASH," "SIZING UP UNCLE SAM," ETC.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY IRMA DÉRÈMEAUX
[Illustration: Publisher's logo]
BOSTON LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 1915
_Copyright, 1915_, BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
_All rights reserved_
Published, February, 1915
THE COLONIAL PRESS C. H. SIMONDS CO., BOSTON, U. S. A.
TO
_MY FATHER_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE 4:11 TRAIN 1
II. THE FRIENDLY FIRE-FIEND 26
III. HOMEBURG'S TWO FOUR-HUNDREDTHS 47
IV. THE SERVANT QUESTION IN HOMEBURG 71
V. HOMEBURG'S LEISURE CLASS 91
VI. HOMEBURG'S WORST ENEMY 116
VII. THE HOMEBURG WEEKLY DEMOCRAT 142
VIII. THE HOMEBURG MARINE BAND 171
IX. THE AUTO GAME IN HOMEBURG 200
X. THE HOMEBURG TELEPHONE EXCHANGE 230
XI. A HOMEBURG SCHOOL ELECTION 254
XII. CHRISTMAS AT HOMEBURG 278
ILLUSTRATIONS
FINALLY THE BASS CATCHES UP WITH THE CORNETS _Frontispiece_
IT SEEMED TO ME THEN AS IF SHE MUST HAVE COME FROM HEAVEN BY AIR-LINE PAGE 18
"SHE'S OUT, BOYS," HE SAYS " 148
IN HOMEBURG YOU COME HOME TO THE WHOLE TOWN " 284
Homeburg Memories
I
THE 4:11 TRAIN
_In Which the World Comes Once a Day to Visit Homeburg_
Hel-lo, Jim! Darn your case-hardened old hide, but I'm glad to see you! Wait till I unclamp my fingers from this suit case handle and I'll shake hands. Whoa--look out!! That's the fourth time that chap's tried to tag me with his automobile baggage truck. He'll get me yet. I wish I were a trunk, Jim. Why aren't they as kind to the poor traveler as they are to his trunk? I don't see any electric truck here to haul me the rest of the way into New York. It's a long, long walk to the front door of this station, and my feet hurt.
That's the idea. Let the porter lug that suit case. I'd have hired one myself, but I was afraid I couldn't support him in the style you fellows have made him accustomed to. It was mighty nice of you to come down and meet me, Jim. I've been standing here for five minutes in this infernal mass meeting of locomotives, trying to keep out from underfoot, and getting myself all calm and collected before I surged out of this howling forty-acre depot and looked New York in the eye. It's nothing but a plain case of rattles. I have 'em whenever I land here, Jim. Dump me out on Broadway and I wouldn't care, but whenever I land back in the bowels of a Union Station I'm a meek little country cousin, and I always want some one to come along and take me by the hand.
