Pigs
“Why don’t you make animals as well as people out of fruits and vegetables, children?” said papa one day.
Why hadn’t they to be sure? They had never thought of such a thing, but when they did it was not long before the place was stocked with all sorts of strange animals.
The first piece of vegetable live stock the little Wests owned was a lemon pig which Uncle John made for them from a lemon, two white headed pins, and four matches.
With a knife a small gash was cut for a mouth; then ears were cut from the skin. These were left fastened to the lemon at the front edge.
Then pigs must have pens! So pens naturally followed—pens of corn cobs put together in rail fence fashion.
Later in the season there were acorn pigs in pens made of sticks and straws.
Burdock Leaves and Clothes-Pins
Burdock leaves as well as the burs were used by the children in their plays. Hats and shawls were made of them—but best of all were the burdock leaf wigwams.
To make these twigs or tent poles were stuck in the ground and burdock leaves folded round them in tent fashion. The points of the leaves were torn off to make them the right shape.
Then there had to be Indians to live in the wigwams and these were made of clothes-pins. Nothing could be easier to make than a clothes-pin Indian.
First the features are marked out on the head of the pin, then a band of paper pasted round the top and a feather stuck in at the back for a war-bonnet; and a square of stiff paper folded around the clothes-pin, for a blanket, and the Indian is finished.
The little Wests made whole villages of burdock wigwams with clothes-pin braves standing guard at the doors.
Tom always liked stories of enchantment, so he made up one about these wooden Indians.
The Clothes-Pin Tribe
JOURNEYING across the country a lone traveler chanced upon an Indian village. Such Indians as he saw there were unknown to him, and neither did he know that Indians of any kind dwelt in that part of the land.
Strange to him, too, were the wigwams, or teepees, of the unknown tribe. All of the wigwams with which he was familiar were covered with either blankets or skins. These were of the leaves of the burdock and much smaller than any he had ever seen—fit only for the homes of a pigmy tribe—and such it proved to be.
Guarding every wigwam stood an Indian, while others were scattered about the encampment.
As the traveler gazed on the scene before him, his astonishment grew when he saw that not a figure moved. Every man stood up straight and silent.
Inquiring of a passer-by, one who seemed acquainted with the regions round about, the traveler asked the meaning of what he saw, and learned that the pigmy tribe was ruled by a giant, who years ago had departed for a great city where he hoped to bargain with the people for the sale of the tobacco which his tribe produced. The sample he carried was in the form of a package of cigars, bound about by a strip of twisted tobacco leaves.
For the crime of tempting people to make use of that which would harm them the giant Indian and his pigmy tribe had had a spell cast over them, which turned them to wood, took away their speech, and rendered them motionless.
From the time when the spell came over them no Indian in all the tribe had so much as winked an eye. And all would remain as they were till the spell was broken.
All stood just as they did at the moment when the enchantment fell upon them—the sentinels stock still at the doors of their tents, and the others stiff and straight in the places where that awful moment had found them; the giant chief stood just as he did on that day, ever holding out the package of cigars bound about by the twisted band of tobacco leaves.
When some paleface should take from the hand of the giant Indian the cigars which he offered, the spell would be broken, but to this day no such paleface had come.
This was the story Tom told Grandpa, the lone traveler, when asked about his clothes-pin Indian village with its burdock wigwams. And Grandpa said that it was no doubt true, for he, himself, had seen the giant Indian chief standing, wooden and silent, on a city street, offering cigars to every passer-by.
The Thanksgiving season brought to mind the other early settlers of America, and these, too, were represented by clothes-pin men and women, while the rude cabins of our forefathers were represented by corn cob cabins chinked with mud.
John Alden in his tall Pilgrim hat and Priscilla in her gown of gray and kerchief of white were favorite figures in these early history plays of the West children.
An Irish (Potato) Woman and Her Family
SOME of the jolliest visitors were from the potato patch. They were Irish, of course, and every one knows how much fun there is in all Irish people. There was not a serious looking one in the whole family.
The mother had a most peculiar face, round and plump and happy, but deformed. Though she had more than the usual number of eyes, they were not located so she could use them as eyes.
One was on her cheek just where others sometimes have dimples, so she used that for a dimple. Another was on her forehead, and another just where an eye should have been for seeing purposes. But, sad to tell, this one had a sprout in it, and a sprout in the eye would ruin any one’s sight.
Had it not been for the little Wests, the Irish woman might have been blind all her life. With an ordinary lead pencil an operation was performed on her face which gave her a beautiful round eye just opposite the afflicted one.
This so pleased her that a broad smile spread over her face—a smile that she wore as long as she lived—and that was reflected in the faces of all of her family.
If you had asked her how it happened that they were always smiling, she would have said, “Sure, smiles are catching, just like measles.” When one in a family has them, they all do. Yes, they’re just as catching as measles, and much pleasanter to have.
Other potatoes were made up into gay Irish maidens, with early rose complexions, and into Irish men, with sun-browned faces, and into sturdy Irish children.
These were able to stand up very nicely too, having good substantial Irish (potato) feet.
And who ever heard of an Irish family without a pig? And were not potatoes the most natural things in the world to make pigs of?
Nothing could have been easier to make. A long potato was the body, four matches the legs, two pins the eyes, while a curled dandelion stem made the most natural pig tail imaginable.
Creatures of Clay
HAVE you ever made men and animals of mud? You can do almost anything with it when it is just soft enough. If it is too dry it is sure to crack. Clay is best, but any kind of mud will do.
The little Wests spent hours and hours making people and villages of clay—for there was a most delightfully damp bank by the brookside, where the clay seemed made for young artists.
After modeling a few men, the children began to notice just how large a head ought to be, for a certain sized body, and how far down the arms ought to reach, and whether the legs were longer or shorter than the arms.
At first, though, they made some funny looking creatures. Lady Hollyhock must have smiled more than ever when she saw two of them coming. Or maybe she was frightened.
One of them was a savage with excelsior hair standing out all over his head. The only clothing he wore was a skirt of leaves fastened about his clumsy waist.
His companion was a dwarf negro made by Ted, a larger playmate of the West children. Ted never would be serious. He told the children that the ugly dwarf had spoiled his looks by looking and listening too much. His looks certainly had been spoiled in some way.
Cousin Charlotte made a rhyme about him, which seemed to explain his appearance pretty well.