. Recollections of Auton house : a book for children . re in the profits withoutdoing any of the work. It was awonderful sight to creep under thegay drapery which concealed the ma-chinery of our exhibition, and viewthe spot where H. Anton pulled thatwilderness of strings which set inmotion the little world above small smoky lamp from thekitchen stood in the corner and shed a flickering light around. A tangledweb of threads with labels attachedto the ends hung from little holesover his head. One string went to the old cobblers arm, anotherlifted the strangers leg. This one made the Beng
. Recollections of Auton house : a book for children . re in the profits withoutdoing any of the work. It was awonderful sight to creep under thegay drapery which concealed the ma-chinery of our exhibition, and viewthe spot where H. Anton pulled thatwilderness of strings which set inmotion the little world above small smoky lamp from thekitchen stood in the corner and shed a flickering light around. A tangledweb of threads with labels attachedto the ends hung from little holesover his head. One string went to the old cobblers arm, anotherlifted the strangers leg. This one made the Bengal tiger springat the native, and that pulled down the main-mast of the Guer-riere, shot away by the brave boys in the Constitution ; and soon, through all the scenes. H. Auton sat on a little cricket withhis legs crossed and his head bent back, studying the forest ofthreads above him. Great drops of perspiration stood on his upperlip and dropped off his chin. He breathed an atmosphere whichwould have suffocated anybody but a boy or an Esquimaux, and. WORK AND PLAY. 65 he emerged from his lair after each performance parboiled, buthappy. Some of these dioramas ended in our foreign proprietorsgetting suddenly mad and leaving the yard en masse. Once in awhile also Al Young and Nic Peters (those naughty Meeker Streetboys !) would blow out the only light at the confectionery table, anddecamp with all the candy and the pasteboard money. These littlecontretemps, however, were neither anticipated nor feared by usyounger ones, as we sat, with eyes like saucers, in exquisite expect-ancy, watching for the green curtain to raise its mysterious front. CHAPTER EIGHTH. OUR MOTHER AUTON. F a boy expects to enter this world at all, hehas got to have some kind of a mother, butthen there were only seven boys who hadmy mother for their mother. One of thefew things left to me, nowadays, whichgives me unalloyed satisfaction, is the factthat I had my mother for a mother. If Ihad some other boys mothe
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