Manchurian Books

You turn water--into Tono-Bungay."
"Tono-Bungay's all right," said my uncle, suddenly grave. "We aren't
talking of Tono-Bungay."
"Your nephew, sir, is hard; he wants everything to go to a sort of
predestinated end; he's a Calvinist of Commerce. Offer him a dustbin
full of stuff; he calls it refuse--passes by on the other side. Now YOU,
sir you'd make cinders respect themselves."
My uncle regarded him dubiously for a moment. But there was a touch of
appreciation in his eye.
"Might make 'em into a sort of sanitary brick," he reflected over his
cigar end.
"Or a friable biscuit. Why NOT? You might advertise: 'Why are Birds so
Bright? Because they digest their food perfectly! Why do they digest
their food so perfectly? Because they have a gizzard! Why hasn't man
a gizzard? Because he can buy Ponderevo's Asphalt Triturating, Friable
Biscuit--Which is Better.'"
He delivered the last words in a shout, with his hairy hand flourished
in the air....
"Damn clever fellow," said my uncle, after he had one. "I know a man
when I see one.


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