The Art of Amusing / Being a Collection of Graceful Arts, Merry Games, Odd Tricks, Curious Puzzles, and New Charades. Together with Suggestions for Private Theatricals, Tableaux, and All Sorts of Parlor and Family Amusements.

CHAPTER XVI.

It may be remembered that in a recent chapter we mentioned being in a tranquil mood, and, while in that condition, calling on our friend Nix, and further, that Nix introduced us that same evening to some ladies with brown eyes.

Since that event the tranquil moods have come over us periodically, with rapidly increasing virulence. So much so that latterly we have found it desirable to dispense with the cumbrous ceremony of going round to call for Nix. The fact is we have taken a great fancy to that boy Little Pickle; he is certainly a very fine boy.

It occurs to us at this moment that we have not yet given a name to this family. Their real name is one of those which recall old revolutionary times directly it is uttered. One of those names which, to ourself at least, at once summons up a picture of marching ranks of men in three-cornered hats and yellow breeches, toiling forward with glistening muskets over their shoulders, past rows of quaint gabled houses. We cannot give the real name, of course—that is out of the question—so we will call them Adams, because that is not their name. Then we will subdivide them as follows: Mrs. Adams, Bud, Blossom, and Berry. We christen them thus because these were the titles they received in a little floral and pomological game we once played.

The Adams family were going to give a party. We were called in as consulting engineer, to suggest attractions. We readily accepted the office. The reader knows our system and will easily guess our first order. Objects to provoke conversation!

Pig made out of lemon. Good! The pig was made and applauded.

"But," suggested Bud, "why confine ourselves to a pig; surely we can make something else."

"Surely," we assented. So all of us set our wits to work at zoology.

Bud made the first discovery. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "I have found out something beautiful—a whole litter of little pigs to go with the lemon!"

And, indeed, 'twas true. In a few seconds she had some almonds soaking in a cup of boiling water. In a few seconds more she was peeling off their brown jackets, revealing the smooth white nut, as white as the tips of her own taper fingers. The almonds were soon converted into sucking-pigs, and were admitted on all hands to look quite cunning, and as natural as nature, with their little white bodies grouped round the maternal lemon—some running, some standing, and some seated on their haunches.

We need not explain to the gifted reader the modus operandi. It is much the same as with the lemon, only the eyes are dotted with a black lead pencil and the ears are made from small slips of wood.

Stimulated by the success of Bud, Blossom dived down into the depths of her imagination, and fished out a goat. The goat was unquestionably a triumph. The body consisted of a pear, the head of an unbleached almond, the legs, horns, and beard of raisin stalks.

On the same principle, and with wonderful celerity, Berry took up the idea, gracefully acknowledged her indebtedness to the original inventor, and produced a deer—a deer with wide-spreading antlers made of raisin stalks, and legs of the same material, which counterfeited nature even to the knee-joints. The neck cost some little mental exertion, but was finally triumphed over in the following shape, neatly cut out of wood.

The deer now appeared truly a monarch of the forest; a little weak in the shoulders perhaps, and rather full-chested behind, but still a noble animal.

Not to be outdone with her own idea, Blossom wrestled vigorously with her subject, and ere we had ceased admiring the deer, had very nearly completed a sheep—a sheep so fleecy and short in the legs that it was at once voted the greatest triumph of all, though WE personally and privately thought, and still think, that, for true genius, Bud's idea of the pigs far exceeded any of them. The white almond certainly made a most admirable sheep's head, but then apple, of which the body was made, grew rapidly rusty when once peeled—so much so that we had to scrape our sheep once or twice in the course of the evening to restore its fleeciness.

Having made large herds of deer, flocks of goats and sheep, not to mention litters of pigs, we disposed some of them on the mantel-piece and what-nots, while others were reserved to make a grand pastoral scene on the supper table. Having finished these, we devoted our energies to constructing scent-bags and mice, the latter made out of apple-seeds, as described in a previous chapter. Here the transcendent genius of Bud again asserted itself—she invented a rat; a rat made out of an unbleached almond. When grouped with the mice and flour-sacks the effect was truly grand.

What now?

"What shall we make next?" was the general inquiry.

"Oh, can't you make something that will jump up?" eagerly suggested Little Pickle, who had kept pretty quiet during our zoological researches.

"Can't you make something that will jump up?" This was so vague that we were fain to demand further light.

"Oh, you know at our school one of the boys made a kind of thing with a bit of wax that jumped up and frightened you."

This was still far from clear, but whatever it might be, it was evidently calculated to frighten somebody, and so was immediately voted down by the ladies.

"Oh, make that gorilla portrait, you know," again entreated Little Pickle; "that makes such fun."

This proposition, though received coolly, was, nevertheless, discussed at some length, till Blossom called her sister's attention to the fact that one of their invited guests would be a certain Dr. O'Tang, who really did resemble a gorilla, and should the glass fall into his hands, he would feel hurt at the joke; so Little Pickle's second proposition was voted down.

We now felt a heavy weight of responsibility hanging on our shoulders. Six brown eyes were resting upon us, each as deep and brown as a mountain pool.

"Can we not do something with paper?" suggested Bud, her exquisite genius again coming to our aid. This suggestion gave us the cue.

"I have it," we exclaimed; "I will teach you to make stained glass. To be sure, it is only a variation of your own beautiful art of making transparencies; still, if you have never heard of the process, it may afford some amusement, and help you to decorate your rooms."

One apartment in the house of Adams was of the kind known as extension room. The two windows which separated this apartment from the back parlor served admirably to exhibit the new art. The object of the process is to produce an effect somewhat similar to the heraldic painting on the casements of old European houses, and is done thus:

You procure several sheets of tissue paper of various colors, a pair of scissors, and some fine boiled paste. You fold a sheet of the paper twice, then cut out of the folded paper a form—say, for example, like the one on the left: so that when the sheet is open there will be two pieces like the one on the right.

Paste one of these in the centre of the window-pane you wish to decorate, then paste the other over it, only lapping over a little on one side and below, as represented in this diagram.

When this is dry it will have a very pretty effect. Of course you can cut the papers in any form you choose and have them in different colors—red over green, or yellow over blue. You may also stitch one pattern of a smaller size right in the centre of another, or paste three or four different patterns one above the other, as illustrated by our subjoined cuts.

Having delivered our short lecture (illustrated with examples) to the six brown eyes, and also to the six white ears—like quaint sea-shells from the shores of Elysium—we all proceeded to operate on the windows before mentioned, and we are glad to say with the most pleasing results.

Our scissorings with the colored paper brought to light an accomplishment of Little Pickle, which set us all to work anew with scissors and pen and ink for some time.

Master Adams's system was this: he took a small piece of writing paper, and dropping a minute quantity of ink in the centre, then folded it right across the blot and rubbed it over with his finger. When the paper was opened it displayed some curious form or another. This, with a few touches of the pen, we generally made to resemble some object in nature. Bud made an excellent stag's head on one occasion, which we subjoin.

But Little Pickle's course of instruction did not stop with blots. He folded bits of paper and cut them into grotesque patterns, and set us all to filling them up with pictures. The great art consisted in making your design conform to the outline of the paper. One of these, which we happened to have brought away by accident, we have here engraved. It was drawn by Bud, and is really very clever.

That was a very delightful evening we passed with the Adams's. Little Pickle is a very fine boy; guess we will call for him on our road up in the afternoon—to go skating.

That night, when we reached home, we found Nix had called and left us a very curious work—The Veda, or the Sacred Writings of the Hindoos. We slept sweetly, and dreamed we were reclining on the banks of the Ganges conversing pleasantly with Brahma. Singular dream, was it not?

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