CHAPTER XIII.
THE NEW GAME.
The “Home Wreath” continued to make its appearance promptly every Saturday afternoon, and had of late acquired new popularity, by an attractive feature it had adopted. It was now illustrated, almost every week, by original drawings, usually executed by Miss Lee or Jessie. These sketchings were small, and not very elaborate, but they served to give a new interest to the sheet. They were entitled “Family Portraits,” and at first were confined to likenesses of creatures kept on the farm or in the house. Rover, the faithful spaniel, was sketched to the life, and so was Goldy, the cat. The two horses, Charley and Kittie, Cora, the calf, and a hen with a brood of chickens, were also honored with places in the gallery. No one thought of extending this collection of portraits beyond the domain of the brute portion of the family, until, one Saturday afternoon, the whole house was startled by an editorial announcement in the “Wreath,” to the effect that “the portrait of one of its contributors would be given next week.” The editor positively refused to let any one into the secret, and no one else appeared to know anything about the matter. Curiosity was excited almost to a painful degree, among the young folks, and all put on and wore for a week their most amiable looks, each one anxious to appear as pretty as possible on paper, if he or she were the favored individual. After a week of suspense, Saturday came, and with it came the “Wreath.” Kate got first possession of the sheet, and as she opened it, and the annexed “portrait” disclosed itself, labelled “Our Sociable Contributor,” there was a peal of laughter from the other members of the family who were peeping over her shoulders, that woke the echoes under the old roof. Marcus was of course the hero of the picture. He was an attentive reader of the news of the day, and had a habit of getting so absorbed in the paper as sometimes to become oblivious to remarks addressed to him, so that the boys used to say the newspaper made him deaf. The likeness was unanimously voted a capital one, inasmuch as there was no mistaking who it was intended for.
A week or two after this, the portrait of another contributor was promised, and a lively sensation was again awakened. Expectation was on tip-toe until the next number of the “Wreath” appeared, when a pair of boy’s legs on stilts, labelled “Our High-minded Contributor,” sent another merry shout through the house. A mania for stilts just then prevailed among the boys, and Ronald, for several days, had scarcely deigned to walk upon the earth, but “intent on high designs,” went awkwardly hobbling round on two long poles, to the amazement of the cows and chickens, and somewhat to the risk of his limbs and trousers. Of course, nobody could mistake this portrait; but Ronald seemed much disappointed because the artist (whether Aunt Fanny or Jessie, he could not find out,) did not finish it up, to his full length. And, really, it was provoking to come so near being immortalized, and yet miss it.
But Ronald’s mind was not altogether taken up with stilts, April-fool hoaxes, or maple sugar speculations. He had been for several weeks, and was at this very time, at odd moments, engaged on a literary enterprise of considerable magnitude, for a boy but half way into his thirteenth year. He let Jessie, alone, into the secret, and received from her some useful suggestions and assistance; and a paragraph from her pen in the “Wreath,” was the first announcement of the matter to the rest of the family. The paragraph was as follows:
“A New Pleasure.—We learn that a young member of our family will in a few days issue, in manuscript, a new and very amusing game of transformations, upon which he has been engaged for some time. We predict that it will prove quite popular with the young folks. Besides the amusement it will afford, it has a peculiar feature which will transform it at pleasure into a puzzling and useful exercise for the intellect. Our readers will probably know more about it, before the next number of the ‘Wreath’ appears.
J.”
Immediately on this announcement, there was great inquiry about the “new pleasure,” and Ronald was compelled to produce his game, the moment it had received the finishing touches. As this game will perhaps amuse my young readers, I shall copy it here, though it is rather long. At the end of Peter’s “story,” will be found a list of phrases, which, before playing the game, should be copied off, each upon a separate slip of card or paper.[[10]] One person should be selected to read the story aloud, and the cards should be distributed among the rest of the company. Whenever the reader comes to a blank in the narrative, he should look to some one of the company, who must immediately read aloud the uppermost card in his pile; and so the game proceeds to the end. Of course the story will read differently every time the game is tried, for the transformations it is capable of are infinite. No, not exactly infinite, which means without limits; but it would take many lines of figures to express the precise number, as any reader who has studied arithmetic as far as permutation can easily satisfy himself. This game is called the “Game of Transformations.”
[10]. This game may be procured of the publishers in separate form, and put up in a neat paper box.