MISCELLANEOUS PIECES
Pap-Boat. On shelf 3, [Plate XXI] (facing p. 47), I show a specimen of rarity. Pap-boats would be as common as babies at one time. This one was bought at Lytham, and was introduced to me as a pig feeder. It is 4½ inches long.
Castor-oil spoons. What a fuss they made about taking a dose of castor oil, or had they not conceived the idea of disguising it between other liquids? The manipulation of such a spoon was a tricky job, for after getting it into the mouth a twist would be needed to bring the lid on to the tongue, the lid would partly drop open and the castor-oil would then flow gently down the patient’s throat, provided of course there was no resistance. This forcible feeding was of everyday occurrence. The larger of the spoons is about seventy years old, and the smaller about ninety years.
There are eighty-five specimens on [Plate XXI], and I believe that the reader, with the aid of a magnifying glass, will be able to form a very good idea of each piece. The photographing of the groups generally entailed quite a lot of work, and some anxiety, for as I do not develop myself, or, rather, as I do not do my own developing, I had put all the things back in their places before I knew if the negatives were right. Fortunately it turned out all the exposures had been correctly timed, which was more than I anticipated with the varying and often poor December light.
The “Odamifino” ([Plate XXVI], facing p. 74.).
This was picked up quite recently by a keen collector of rags and bones and other relics whose glory has departed. It was snapped out of his day’s doings by a flourishing dealer in anything that blew into his yard, and it was only by my going over the top of about 10,000 rabbit skins, the age of which could be more accurately guessed by their odour than by their sealskin-like appearance, that I caught sight of it. Then ensued a discussion as to the part this pewter had played in the past. The R and B collector called it a “Funniosity,” the skin specialist diagnosed it as a “Cream jug,” while a third gentleman (who dare not take on any other job than spirit testing while he is drawing out-of-work pay) said without hesitation, but not very distinctly, “Odamifino,” with a pronounced emphasis on the second syllable. When I suggested it might be a barber’s shaving-pot I was immediately ruled out of that court, as “Barbers never used anything made of pewter.”
Now if any collector can inform me when “Odamifinos” were in vogue, and why they came into existence, I shall be obliged, and in the meantime I will consider the cleaning, for is not cleanliness akin to collectingness? At present it has hardly an appearance suitable to my cabinet of rarities, while its high-sounding designation suggests that as its proper environment, and yet I have in mind the quip of that inveterate humorist Froude, “A thing of beauty is a joy for ever,” muttered at the Annual Meeting of the Peace Congress, when Carlyle chipped in with a chuckle, “Rough hew them as we will,” to be capped by that infernal joker Dante with the remark, “You cannot paint the lily whiter.” At this point Mr. Chairman Darwin brought back the members to their customary somnolence with the admonition: “Come, gentlemen, please, don’t ape the silly goat. The next subject for consideration is ‘Shaving—should each customer have fresh water?’”