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.
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 illustrate 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.
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?"
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.
"_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 balls 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 passions, and the evil passions 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_.