The second was: "Why meat should always be cooked rare?"

Answer. "Because what is _done_ cannot be _helped_."

After this came cakes and nuts and cider. Aunty Delluvian thought nuts and cider could never come amiss, and we agree with her when the cider is such as she produced, clear, fruity, sparkling, which, as it courses down your gullet, seems like health incarnate, and as far superior to that bedevilled liquid which city b.o.o.bies call champagne, and pay three dollars a bottle for, as faith is to smartness. So ended our evening at Aunty Delluvian's.

CHAPTER VIII.

The Highlanders are a hardy race, inhabiting the north of Scotland. They are brave, hospitable, and exceedingly fond of dancing.

When you reflect that a very moderate n.i.g.g.e.r _used_ to fetch one thousand dollars, it will be exhilarating to know that you can have a Highlander, with all his natural characteristics, for nothing. Yet such is our proposition to you on the present occasion.

Will you have him for nothing?

We a.s.sume, of course, that you have at least one hand. A foot will not answer.

You have a hand?

Well!

Get an old glove and cut off the thumb and fingers to about the extent represented in the annexed diagram.

Place the glove on your hand, and then hold your hand in the position represented below. You will now have a general idea of what is to const.i.tute the substratum of the Highlander.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Now make a pair of little socks to fit your first and second fingers.

Here is a picture of the style in which they should be gotten up. These socks can be made of white linen or calico, and painted with water-colors of the desired pattern--the shoes black and the socks plaid. If the colors are mixed with very little water they will not run on the cloth. We suggest water-colors because the plaid can be very neatly represented by cross lines of red and green. If, however, you have no water-colors, you can st.i.tch the stockings across with red and green thread. It will be well to bear in mind that as your second finger is longer than the first, the stocking for the first must be stuffed out with cotton or wool to make it equal in length to the second.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE HIGHLANDER TRICK.--_See page 101._]

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Now make a careful copy of our full-page picture opposite; st.i.tch it on to the back of the glove; put the socks on your fingers, and your Highlander is ready to dance, as represented in the above cut.

You move about the fingers, simulating a man dancing the Highland-fling or double-shuffle, and the result will be very curious and eminently satisfactory.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Another variation of the same performance can be made, which will save the trouble of drawing a Highlander. It is done thus: You procure a kid glove, and cut it down as before. You will see by the subjoined cut how the hand looks with the glove on before it has been fixed up. A white kid glove is best, because on the white kid you can paint almost the entire dress with water-colors--blue vest, red sash, and black pantaloons. A little piece of some gay rag must, however, be st.i.tched on each side to represent the jacket; the chief object of the jacket being to hide the knuckles of the third and fourth fingers.

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Now, having fixed your glove and put it on, paint on your hand a face in the style of the following sketch, and your dancing Spaniard, or Terpsich.o.r.ean Matadore, is ready for action. The glove forms a complete suit (barring the boots), which you can slip off and on with the greatest ease at pleasure.

If you have not a white kid glove wherewith to make the dress of the above-mentioned gentleman, you will have to sew a small piece of calico or paper in the proper place, for the shirt. You will also be obliged to make him a vest out of some little sc.r.a.p of red or blue silk; in short, you must use your needle instead of your paint-brush. But this is plain enough and needs no further explanation.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

There is one more item, however, which we must mention. It will be found rather difficult to paint moustaches on the hand so as to give them the right merry expression. The teeth, which lend so much life to the face, are troublesomely small to represent. We therefore think it best to draw a pair of moustaches exactly similar to the ones we subjoin, which can be made to stick in their place by the aid of a little diaclon or shoemaker's wax.

CHAPTER IX.

The scientific gentleman at our last meeting bewildered us all with four grains of rice. It will be remembered that he challenged us to arrange those four seeds in such a manner that each should be an equal distance from each, and yet not touch each other. Did we belong to the betting cla.s.s, we would be willing to wager a moderately-sized cobble-stone that not one of our readers has yet solved the problem. It is explained thus: You lay three of the seeds on the table in the form of an equilateral triangle; then taking the fourth seed between the finger and thumb, you hold it above the other three, in the position represented in diagram on page 106. In this way, and this alone, can the objects be so arranged as to be each equidistant from each. It is a very simple matter when once explained, but we never yet knew any one to find it out.

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Our friend Nix is in very fervid condition concerning a new picturesque trick he has learned. It is an old affair, but very funny, and consists in making an old woman's face with your fist, and is done as follows: You double your fist, as represented in the above diagram, and draw on it a face as also represented.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Then you make a species of hood something like a mitten, with a hole in the side, around which hole you sew a frill, to make it look like a cap, which we also ill.u.s.trate with a diagram. The mitten is placed on the hand, and a shawl pinned carefully round it, as shown in our diagram on page 108, and you have the old woman complete.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Now, in order to make the old woman appear to speak, you must move the knuckle of the thumb up and down, at the same time simulate a cracked, squeaky old voice. By moving your thumb in time to your voice, the illusion becomes perfect. You can, of course, make the old woman say whatever you please; but the more emphatic the style of her conversation the better, as you can make the jaw more energetic, and the pauses more marked. The conversation might commence something in this style (you in your natural tone of voice): "Well, aunty, how are _you_ to-day?"

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Aunty Grummidge: "How am I? Ah! Hum! I'm well enough if it warn't for them plaguey boys! Drat the boys! Heavin' stones at my geese! I'll geese them, if I ketch 'em! Drat 'em! and tramplin' all over my string-beans!

Drat 'em! I'll string-bean 'em, if I ketch hold of 'em! And then the pesky young warmints callin' me old Dot-and-go-one! I'll old Dot-and-go-one them, if I ketch hold of 'em."

It will require a little practice to keep time between the thumb and the voice; but by making the phrases short and emphatic, it will be soon learned. When the old woman has done talking, you can stick a pipe in her mouth, and make her look quite comfortable.

CHAPTER X.

"_In those days there were giants._" Those days were the days when our mother was a young lady, and, as we devoutly believe, the most beautiful woman of her period; when our father's side-whiskers were glossy black; when he wore his hat just a _leetle_ bit on one side, and when they twain used now and then to go forth magnificently arrayed after the lamps were lit, to b.a.l.l.s and parties, whilst we little ones sat up in our white beds to receive the parting kiss and injunction flavored with blessings and _eau de cologne_. In those days, we repeat, there were giants. Giants in our story-books, giants in our young imaginations, mere suckers from the parent stem of the story-books, but terrible in their proportions. There were giants, too, in our narrow path, springing out of our waywardness and evil pa.s.sions, and the evil pa.s.sions of others; there were giants, too, on the road to knowledge; oh, such monstrous giants all of them, far bigger and fiercer than any we ever met in after life. But there was another giant of a far different sort, who used to make his appearance at our little parties about Christmas-time, and in sustaining whose character we have over and over again sweltered and staggered and suffered martyrdom the most terrible.

Still he was a pleasant giant (particularly to the upper-story boy), and welcome to the whole company. He had a very youthful look, in spite of his ferocious moustache; his hat had a tendency to drop over his eyes and his gait was erratic; though his proportions inspired awe in the hearts of the tiny portion of the audience. We have but rarely met this gentleman in later days, partially, we fancy, from a difficulty in procuring legs; we have observed a growing disinclination in persons to perform these members; indeed, we have ourself shrunk several times from the task. It is, indeed, an ordeal rather severe, after partaking heartily of Christmas dinner, and, perhaps, generously of wine, to walk about a hot room with a warm boy on your shoulders, and your entire person--head, face, and all--enveloped in a heavy cloak or overcoat, and not a breath of fresh air to be taken under penalty of _spoiling the giant_.

A small and cool boy is placed on the shoulders of a man or boy who is stout in the legs; a long military cloak or overcoat is thrown over the two, and the monster is made. You can embelish him with moustaches, a hat, and a long walking-cane, and then you will have the creature complete, as represented in the picture opposite.

[Ill.u.s.tration: HOW TO MAKE A GIANT.--_See page 112._]