Now it was the "musical marvels," two men extravagantly made up as negro minstrels, with immense shoes and plaid vests.

They seemed to be able to wrestle a tune out of almost anything--glass bottles, cigar-box fiddles, strings of sleigh-bells, even graduated brass tubes, which they rubbed with resined fingers.
McTeague was stupefied with admiration.
"That's what you call musicians," he announced gravely.

"'Home, Sweet Home,' played upon a trombone.

Think of that! Art could go no farther." The acrobats left him breathless.

They were dazzling young men with beautifully parted hair, continually making graceful gestures to the audience.