Last week I was left for a whole afternoon to entertain a convalescent child. “No excitement, no tears, no _ennui_.” Such were the difficult directions left me. When the little girl’s mother returned after two hours’ absence she found her rules had been successfully obeyed. Vera was blissfully happy and quietly content. On the table, across her sofa, reposed a whole Sambo family, in the creation of which the afternoon had passed quickly and quietly away.
As the task of amusing children is one ever present with a true woman, I just tell our readers how the Sambos were made.
I had in my work-basket a twopenny cut of Berlin wool, a skein of scarlet ditto costing one half-penny and a large darning needle.
The black skein I divided into three parts (Fig. 1). The double ends were to make the larger figures. The centre piece divided into two small ones.
Taking one looped end, I tied a twist of wool tightly round it, one inch lower down I tied another ligature. From either side, two arms were detached and wrists defined. Then, a two-inch body was developed by a belt. The remaining wool was left loose for Mrs. Sambo’s skirt. But, to represent the father of the family, the strands were once more divided and ankles outlined.
Hair was made by simply cutting the top twist and trimming it. Hands and feet were equally carefully snipped. The finishing touch must be given with our scarlet wool. Eyes, nose, mouth, wristlets, waist, neck-ribbon and buttons, are all of this vivid hue.
Perhaps the baby Sambos are quaintest of all. Just half the size of their parents with little knots of woolly curls, and tiny frizzy hands.
Not the least part of Vera’s delight in her family was the fact that they are all really _penwipers_. Months after the little girl was running about well and jolly. The Sambos did duty on every writing-table in the house, and the four of them only cost twopence half-penny.
These fascinating little mannikins have the advantage of being novel, cheap to make, and very attractive at bazaars, where they sell easily for one shilling each, the cost of making being on an average threepence a-piece.
The materials required are single Berlin wool, black, scarlet and white, some yellow “topaz jewels,” and a little glittering tinsel or strings of bright beads. A quarter of a pound (one packet) of black Berlin wool makes four men, while the same quantity of scarlet and white equips a whole army, as less of these is used. I utilised the “jewels” and trimmings from two old evening dresses of mine, and in these days of sequin and jewelled passementerie most girls would have some by them without needing to buy.