THE WORKSHOP 



111 



asked at the age of ten, " What is electricity ? " I think 

 I should have answered, " It is glass things and tinfoil, 

 and red paint and little sparks." 



Electricity was a winter game, and others were 

 magic lantern and fireworks, all from the home work- 

 shop. I suppose the element of uncertainty always 

 enters into the results of amateur pyrotechny ; but 

 then the audience is not critical, and if in a shower 

 of rockets some are eagerly restive, and others show 

 a dilatory sulkiness that hinders the intended simul- 

 taneity of the display, why nobody much minds, and 

 there were positive shrieks of applause when a patriotic 

 set-piece, reserved for the end, unfortunately placed 

 wrong side before, but lighted at what should have 

 been the right end, read " neeuQ eht evas doG " ! 



Then there was the little model theatre, an exact 

 copy of Drury Lane in its old days. The opening of 

 the proscenium was about two feet long by eighteen 

 inches high. The proscenium and boxes adjoining it 

 were exactly to scale, and decorated as in the theatre. 

 It was originally used by Clarkson Stanfield to test 

 the effect of scenery ; I have some of his little scenes 

 now. The stage must have been nearly six feet deep, 

 and the mechanical arrangements both above and 

 below were all complete. It was worked from the two 

 sides, which were open, and when we had a perform- 

 ance a screen on each side hid the operators. My 

 father got up little processions ; the Duke of Wel- 

 lington's funeral was one of them, and later there 



