The Dolls From Turkey

       I think that, among the various dollies that have appeared in this book, I must look one of the most remarkable, and I certainly have had a very adventurous life. I began life in a factory in France, where thousands and thousands of other dolls,  just like myself, were made every year. From there I was sent to a shop and displayed in the window, just in the same way as every other dolly begins life, I saw the usual sights: people‚ men and women, boys and girls,  passing by, the carts and motor-cars in the streets, and all the things with which Europeans are so familiar.

       And then, one day, a lady came into the shop and bought me, with three or four of my sisters. I do not know where she came from, because I could not understand a word that she said; but we were all packed away in a box, and I saw nothing more until I awoke in a strange place among strange people, where everything was quite different to anything I had ever seen or imagined. I had to learn to understand a new language, wear new clothes, and live an entirely new kind of life. It was almost like a miracle to me, because, you see, I am a sleeping doll, and all the while I was lying down in the box my eyes were tightly shut, and so I knew nothing. And then I woke, will you believe me,  in the harem of a Turkish home. The lady, who had bought me in the French shop was there, a number of other women, and quite a lot of children. I just opened my eyes in one big stare when I was held upright. The lady was holding me out towards a bright-eyed and attractive little girl with masses of dark hair, and never before have I seen so much wonder in a pair of human eyes as shone from those of Fatme (as, I found, she was called). Could it be possible that this great and wonderful doll was for her, all her very own self? Little girls are of but small account in Turkey, and no one ever thinks of giving them presents in the form of toys. Young as she was, Fatme had quite a considerable amount of jewellery which her father had bought for her; for from the time she was four years old her father had been buying her various gold and other ornaments so that, when she grew up, she would have a rich supply wherewith to tempt a possible husband J but dolls or toys, oh, no!

       And then I came - brought by this wonderful lady from a wonderful foreign land, and allowed to enter the harem as a special favor. No wonder that Fatme could not believe the evidence of those bright, shining eyes of hers. And that is how I became a Turkish lady, living out my whole life in seclusion and wearing the strange dress of a country quite different to my own.

       After my first surprise, when I had time to look round, I saw that all the women and girls wore short skirts that barely reached to their knees, under which was a very large number of other skirts or petticoats, showing that I was in a very fashionable household indeed; for the more skirts, the higher the rank of the woman. All their legs were bare, though slippers with high heels were generally worn, and the top of the body was covered by a short, loose jacket with long, tight sleeves. This bodice was open down the front and highly decorated.

       Almost everyone wore a handkerchief on the head, and two of the girls had an aigrette as well. But the most curious thing of all was that everybody, except the very smallest girls, wore a thin veil over the face. It took me a long time to get used to such a queer life, where no one ever seemed to do anything, because there were so many girls to wait upon you, and one rarely, if ever, went out.

       Fatme, after spending several days in doing nothing but gazing at me in wonder, began to make me a set of clothes exactly as those I have described above, and when I got used to them I began to feel much more at home. One of the most curious things of all to me was that there seemed to be no men in the country, or I never saw any; but day after day we lived the same life in the harem, never going out of doors, and surrounded only by the children and girls who waited upon us.

       But a day came when I was to get a glimpse more of my new land, though, as you will agree, it was but a glimpse. For we went out - a rare and unusual event. Everything that I had just begun to grow accustomed to was changed by this, for we all had to put on an entirely new set of garments. These consisted of three pieces: a pair of trousers, a "chuddar," and a long veil. The trousers were very wide, and over these the large black "chuddar," then the veil, which consisted of a strip of white calico with openwork for the eyes, and which was fastened at the back of the head with a gold brooch. I did not like this at all, but all the girls seemed to think it just a matter of course, as soon as they are over ten years old, and all that we met were dressed in exactly the same way. The men walk the streets uncovered, and many of them wear great dark beards, and take no notice at all of any of the women and children that they pass.

        It is a beautiful and wonderful country, with its unusual buildings and mosques, and I love to be here with my dear Fatme; but never, never, never will it seem other than strange, when I think of France, and the days before I became a Turkish dolly.

Wilhelmina Enjoys The Dutch Flowers

       Some people have a very strange idea, when you speak to them about a Dutch doll, and think that we are all made of wood, with thin arms and legs that work upon wooden pegs, and that our heads are nearly round, with black painted hair and eyebrows, with a dab of vivid carmine upon each cheek. Nothing could be further from the truth. Dutch dollies - real Dutch dollies, that is - are quite as varied and beautiful as those of any other country, and our little mistresses certainly take quite as much care of us, and spend even more time in dressing and playing with us than English girls do.

       Of course, my name is Wilhelmina, one of the best names for a loyal Dutch girl, and I live a very happy life in my lowland home where everything is kept so neat and clean, and where, especially in the spring months of the year, there is so much vivid color and beauty to be seen. But before I tell you anything at all about my country or its beauties, let me tell you how I am dressed, and what I look like. My face is more "square" and flat than your English dolly, but really there is not much difference in us, for my eyes are blue and my hair very fair, and I am made of " biscuit " china, so that my whole expression is very live and vivacious.

       My clothes are far more bulky than yours; it is not at all Dutch to look slim, so that I wear quantities and quantities of petticoats, which give me my plump appearance. On my head I wear the Dutch bonnet or cap, made of white muslin, fitting tightly to my head, but which has also two side wings that stand out on either side of my face and are stiffly starched. My bodice is tight, but the sleeves only reach to the elbow, and under this is a chemisette of white, embroidered in color, and round my neck a string of coral beads. As I told you, my skirt is very full, and over it I have an apron without a bib.

       Of course, my feet are shod with clogs; everywhere you go in Holland you will hear the clitter-clatter of clogs over the cobbled streets, and my own feet are no exception to the rule. Can you picture at all the kind of home in which we live, I wonder, and the life we live? Betje - that is the name of my little mistress - is the daughter of a bulb farmer, and our house is long and low with a bright red roof, and adjoining it is a large storehouse where dozens of men and girls are always at work, sorting and cleaning and packing the bulbs that are sent all over the world to beautify the spring garden. Everywhere you can see the windmills, which are always at work, pumping and pumping to keep the land dry.

       I have not been played with much lately, for Betje has been ill, but now she is better and sitting up in her bed again, and the first thing she asked for was me. She cannot sit up for long together yet, and so she has propped me up at her feet so that I can see out of the window and tell her all that is happening outside. And what do I see? A wide stretch of perfectly flat country, spreading for miles and miles as far as ever I can imagine; but this, of course, is no interest to Betje, she wants to hear about the things near to home.

      First, there is the canal that comes almost up to the house door at the side. This is a very curious canal, for so much of our land is below the level of the sea that our canals are higher than the land through which they run, and therefore the banks are mounded up higher than the fields through which they flow.

       "Yes, Betje ! There is quite a large ship just outside, and Johann is leaning over the side, talking to the sailor-men who are idling about on the deck. The mate is leaning against the mast, and has a broad smile upon his face at some remark Johann has made." And now I look out across the fields and the stables, where Pieter is sanding the floor for the horses and cattle. What a sea of color! The last of the daffodils are still filling their squares with primrose yellow and gold, for all the ground is set out in squares, each filled with one kind of bulb, so that the whole looks like a giant draughtboard painted in many different colors. Those squares of vivid blue, pink, red, white, and purple, are fields of hyacinths, and as the curtain fiaps with the soft wind one can smell nothing but the powerful fragrance of hundreds of thousands of the stiff spikes of flower, set in rows just like a regiment of soldiers.

       Everywhere Dutch girls and women and men are at work among the flowers, and, as I tell Betje about it all, she longs to be up and out with the rest of the world, revelling in the sun and fragrant blossom. Presently her mother comes in with a glass of milk that she must drink, and in her other hand a gorgeous bunch of the first tulips and some blue muscari. The milk is drunk, Betje lies down" comfy " again, I am put into her arms, and we both go off to sleep; so that it may not be many days ere we are both out in the air again, amongst all the other girls and boys, laughing and playing among the fields of fragrant blossom in the happy spring flower-time - a Dutch doll and a Dutch girl in a typical piece of Nederland.

"Only a half-hour away from Amsterdam, the Keukenhof Tulip Gardens is one of the most beautiful parks in the world, highlighting the famous Dutch tulips and so many pretty flowers and plants. Every area is more striking than the next and besides the outdoor gardens, there are indoor pavilions, kid's playgrounds, a windmill and boat rides through the neighboring tulip fields. This is one of our best videos yet, thanks to its amazing subject- The Keukenhof!"

Kopiolani Imagines Her Samoan Dolly

       Swish! A great wave is just curling over its crest ere it breaks and falls. A shriek‚ then several more. Crash! The wave has broken, and comes swirling up the beach as it bubbles and boils in masses of white froth. Yell after yell of laughter, as a number of little laughing children scramble to their feet and grab at their small boards ere the receding wave sucks them back into the sea again. That is the scene I am watching as I sit with my back against a rock, high and dry above the reach of the incoming tide.

       For I am a little Samoan dolly, and a lot of boys and girls from our village are playing at their favorite game of surf-riding. Every one of them is a wonderful swimmer, and this is one of the favorite games. My owner is that lovely bright-eyed girl who has just plunged into the sea again with her board, and her name is Kopiolani. Let us watch. There she goes, making her way through the water as easily as if she were walking on dry land, with her little board held in front of her in one hand. Now‚ see how she is waiting there, in the rough sea, for a big wave to come along. Ah, here it is! Yes, it has caught her up and is racing her towards the shore at a great rate. Crash! how it thundered down! And there is Kopiolani, high and dry upon the sand, laughing as she wipes the water from her face and brushes back her drenching hair. Yes, she has had enough of it now, and is coming towards the rock where she left me before entering the sea.

       Though I am far from beautiful, as you would consider beauty‚ being only cut from a block of wood and quite roughly painted to represent a human face‚ yet I appear to Kopiolani as a very lovable doll indeed, and she makes her way straight back to my resting-place. Up she gathers me in her arms, and, with a whole crowd of other girls who have been surf-riding, we set out to search the rock pools, etc., that are still uncovered by the incoming tide. And what a wonderland this all is, for the whole shore is covered with shells and treasures, as well as small crabs and pieces of coral and seaweed. Kopiolani is very keen on the shells, for she is very busily collecting enough of one particular kind to make a necklace for me. She herself always wears one, and has been trying for a long time to gather enough tiny wee ones of the same kind of shell to make one for me. I have never had a real necklace of my own before, although Kopiolani has often made me one from the different gorgeous flowers that grow so abundantly on all hands in Samoa. To-day she is very lucky, for the strongly running seas have brought immense quantities of shells with them, and debris of all kinds, and she is continually stooping down and picking up another and another, as her sharp eyes spot them lying on the sand. At last the tide comes in so far that all the girls have to return to the spot from which they were surf-riding, and by this time the sun has completely dried their hair and bodies, so that they can proceed to dress. Samoa is a land of continual summer, so that much clothing would be unnecessary, and the girls all wear a skirt that extends from the shoulders to the knees, just the same way that my own dress does. Although I have told you so much of the playtime doings, you must not suppose that Kopiolani does nothing but play, for she has to go to school and perform many other duties.

       For instance, there is water to be fetched, and this is carried in very remarkable bottles made from coconut shells. First of all, a small hole is cut in the top of the nut, and then a number of sharp stones are put inside, and the nut shaken and shaken until all the soft kernel is removed. A cork to stop the hole is then made, from banana leaves rolled tightly together. Often and often I have been with Kopiolani to the stream with a string of these quaint bottles to fill, and as we return she generally picks a flower to stick in her hair, and then one for me. As we come home, she sings, all the way, a lovely " Sleep, Dolly," song, so that at last, when the darkness falls and we are ready to go to bed, we are both as sleepy, as sleepy can be.

Dolores, of Sunny Spain

       Sunny Spain! What a delightful impression of the wonderful land where oranges grow out of doors and the sun seems to be shining through the greater part of the year. My own name is Dolores, and I live with my little owner, Isabel, in Cadiz, one of the chief cities in all that sunny land. We have one of the most splendid harbors in the world, and our city is extremely old, for it was founded at least three thousand years ago. I wish you could see Isabel, for she is a typical Spanish girl, with pleasing and gracious ways and delightful manners; although, like the rest of us, she is very passionate and easily roused. But as we can hate well, so we can love deeply, and I am devoted to Isabel, and never happy when she is far away from me. She has an olive complexion, dark eyes, and masses of curly black hair that looks simply wonderful in the sunlight. And it is a curious thing that, wherever you go in Spain, and however many little girls you see with their dolls, you will hardly ever see one with fair hair or blue yes, but always the Spanish dark ones. I do not go out in a perambulator like the English dolly does; Isabel always carries me in her' arms, and I always feel very proud of the easy, graceful way in which she walks as we go along the street. As a nation we are very fond of bright colors, and so you may be sure that I have no lack of brilliant clothes to wear. My usual dress is that worn on fete days by a young lady. My skirt has a frilled hem and is just above my ankles in length. My stockings are white and my shoes black, and over my skirt I wear an apron with blue and white stripes. Quite the most brilliant thing about my clothes is my shawl, which is of silk, very often orange in color, with red and green flowers, and always with a broad black fringe running all round the edge.

       This is worn cornerways so as to show the bare throat, round which there are two or three rows of beads. When I am not wearing my shawl and apron, I have a black lace scarf with which to drape my hair, and this is called a mantilla. My hair is a great point with me, and is dressed right on the top of my head, with a very tall comb stuck in behind, but so that it shows from the front. Most of the folks that you would meet in the streets are not, of course, dressed like this, but just in the ordinary way. Traveling in my land is a very slow business indeed, and in many places it is only possible by carts drawn by oxen. A great deal of shouting seems to be necessary to get these carts along, and the first time Isabel took me into the country with her, I was greatly puzzled by all the noise and excitement. Another point, too, that struck me as very curious was the wheels with which the bullock carts are fitted. They are of the most primitive form and only cut from a single round of wood. I did not like my ride at all, I can assure you, and I was very glad when we got to my mistress's uncle's house and the jolting ceased. For we had bumped for hours over the worst possible road, and I heartily wished that I was back in Cadiz again, although it is nice to see your own land and some of the quaint customs that still remain.

The frilled dancing skirts of sunny Spain!

The Best Doll House in Switzerland!

       Hurrah! Hurrah! At last the great day has come and everyone is delighted‚ everyone except Gretel, who feels extremely sad, because Christian, her beloved brother, is going away to the pastures with the men and the cattle, and she will not see him again for weeks to come. She just sits still on her stool beside the door, with her dolly on her lap, watching all the preparations with one big ache in her heart, because few people were ever closer or loved each other more than Christian and Gretel.

       It is one of the great events of the year in the Alpine villages, when the flocks and herds are taken to summer pastures. The animals that lead the herds are gaily decked with flowers and bells, and the boys, who accompany them with the men, all sing for joy. Christian, of course, is just as excited as anyone else; indeed, I think more so, for, you see, this was the first time that he had been old enough to go. But you may be sure he had not forgotten Gretel, and it was the one dark spot in the bright day that she looked so sorrowful at parting from him. Just before they went, he rushed over to her, and flung his arms round her neck and gave her two kisses on each cheek, and then shyly produced the wonderful present which he had procured so secretly for her. I do not suppose you will have much difficulty in guessing what it was‚ a superb doll.

       Not at all the ordinary kind of doll, but a splendid town shop doll, with the most glorious blue eyes, fair hair, and pink cheeks. Even if she had not been half as beautiful, the love that prompted such a generous thought would have filled Gretel's eyes with happy tears, and it certainly did much to ease the pain of parting. Kindly thoughts do so much in this world, and Christian was overjoyed at Gretel's happiness and pleasure, while he knew that she would enjoy the busy times of dressing the wonderful doll and surprising him with its handsome clothes when he came back again. For, do not make any mistake upon that point, the girls have to work in Switzerland quite as hard and early as the boys do. They can all assist when the haytime comes, and Gretel was even then learning to make butter. Christian was going this year with the cows because it was his first time, but as he grew older he would set off with the sheep and goats to the higher lands, where the grazing is merely in patches amid the snow. These grazing grounds are reached by steep, narrow paths, and such work is very good training for becoming an Alpine guide, which was Christian's great ambition. In the winter all the family is at home together, and much of the life has to be lived indoors, because of the snow, although the sun shines brightly, sometimes for weeks together. Life is very good then, and in the weeks that followed, when Gretel was often thinking about Christian, away with the herds in the pastures, she often looked forward to the time when the short summer would be over, and her beloved brother would be with her again. The Swiss are extremely handy and clever workmen, and no doubt you have seen some of the lovely carving that they do so exquisitely. This is not only done in wood, but in ivory too, and some very wonderful flowers are carved in the latter. Christian had a great idea in his head all the summer, and when he came home again, and saw the care that Gretel had taken in dressing the doll that he left with her, he was so pleased that he at once set about the work which he had in his mind. One day, when he came in from feeding the cattle, he brought with him several pieces of wood sawn up into planks. Gretel was filled with curiosity as to what he could be going to do, but he only laughed, and told her that one day she would know a lot more about it than she did now. But he was only teasing, and at last he told her what was in his mind. This was nothing less than building a wonderful home for the dolls‚ a dolls' house which should be worthy of the great lady that was to occupy it.

       Day by day the building grew, until the roof was on, the stairs were in, the doors were cut between the rooms, and a perfect model of a Swiss home was waiting to be occupied. And how happy both were in the doing: Gretel in her brother's love, and Christian in her pleasure! Even when the dolls' house was completed, this was by no means the end, for then the furniture had to be made. Chairs and tables and wonderful wooden beds all followed in succession, until Gretel was the owner of the best dolls and the best dollies' house in all that part of Switzerland.

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Chandi and Kali

       Look well at these two strange figures, Chandi, the mother, accompanied by Kali, her own little baby. Did you ever see two more remarkable dolls? They have a very strange history that I think you would like to hear, and are exactly typical of the dolls with which the girl children in the great country of India play. It was scorchingly hot although it was only seven o'clock in the morning, but nothing like so hot as it would be later in the day, when all the Europeans have to remain indoors because of the sun. The mother of the little girl to whom the dolly belonged was little more than a child herself, and, of course, lived in the zenana, or women's part of the house, where there are swarms of children as well as other women. She herself did not do much for her little girl, because she had an ayah who nursed and tended her.

An Indian Native Doll Representing Mother and Child.

       This ayah moved very quietly, because she wore no shoes when in the house. That would be considered the most disrespectful thing she could do; although, when in the street, she wore loose goat hide slippers without heels. Her dress was of woven cotton, very soft in texture, and over the skirt she wore a tunic that hung to a depth of three to four inches below the waist-line. This tunic buttons in the front with three sets of buttons. Round her feet she had metal anklets which clanked together as she walked. Her hair was parted down the middle, drawn back tightly behind the ears, and fastened at the back into a tight knob without any hairpins.

       This ayah had but one thing to do, and that was to look after the little baby. As the baby lay in the ayah's arms, she laughed and crooned just as all the other little baby girls do when they are quite small, and then she slept and slept for long hours together. And it was while she slept that the ayah made the funny looking doll for her to play with, that you see in the photograph. The arms, body, and legs are made of the finest white cotton material, while the head is of some kind of skin, and all are stuffed quite firm and solid with odd rags. The faces are drawn on the skin, and a tiny nose stuck upon the face, so that quite a wonderful expression is given to this mother dolly. Then the baby was made in the same way, only, of course, on a much smaller scale. Tiny bead bangles were placed round the arms of both mother and baby, and then they were both ready to be dressed. All Hindoos love bright colors, and especially the babies; therefore very brilliant coloring was chosen for the dress. The long skirt was vivid mauve purple, with bands of tinsel silver between the color, and a broad band of similar silver tinsel round the bottom. The curious cloak shawl was made of the same material, as was the headdress, and in both cases the same band of silver ran round the edge.

       Well, one day, when the sweet baby grew older, she was playing in the zenana with Chandi, when a most wonderful thing happened that threw everyone into a flutter, for they were visited by a Christian missionary lady who could speak Hindustani. For days after she had gone the women and children talked of her, and wondered how soon she would come again. Did she come again? Oh, yes, and before very long too. It was a very great privilege for her, and before a month had passed she was back again, chatting as brightly as ever. And what do you think she brought with her? Ah, indeed you would never guess. A real English dolly, that she herself had dressed with English clothes, and that she put into the hands of the little Hindoo girl. Everyone was almost wild with excitement, and the girl-women, who lived in the zenana, were nearly as crazy about it as the child herself. Indeed, I think more so; for, you see, they were but little more than children too. How they did stare, and how they examined every article of this wonder-doll's dress! They crowded round and laughed and laughed, while each one examined her in turn. At last the missionary lady took her and replaced her in the little girl's arms, and, in return, asked if she might have Chandi and Kali to send to a little girl in her own far-off England. At first everybody said "No," and the ayah offered to make another new and very clean one in their place. But no! nothing would do but Chandi and Kali. She wanted a real Hindoo doll, that a Hindoo girl had played with. And so, at last, she got her way, and she took Chandi and Kali from the sweet little hand and placed the lovely English doll in its place, and the pair, Chandi and Kali, set out upon the great journey to England, where they arrived safely, and are looked upon as two of the most wonderful dolls in all the neighborhood where they live. A pair of real Hindoo dolls, taken from the small hand of a real Hindoo girl.

 Dolls in their national costumes: Collection by Poppentopper.

Harald, The Norwegian

       Harald? Yes! That is my name, and I am one of the most curiously dressed of all Norwegian dollies, for, although I am very like an English doll with very fair hair and very blue eyes, my clothes are quite special. My little mistress has two of us. I am from Saetersdal, dressed in the old-time costume, and Greta comes from Hardanger; and while my clothes are the most curious, yet hers are certainly the most picturesque, so that my mistress loves us both, and everyone who sees us looks with equal interest.

       Let me tell you about myself first. I am a boy doll and so, you see, I wear an enormous pair of "buxer," or trousers, that come right up to my neck both back and front, and which are kept in place by shoulder-straps. In front I wear a breast-plate, ornamented with embroidery in green cloth, and rows of silver buttons. At my ankles are more pieces of embroidery on green cloth, though these are not so grand as the ones at the breast. On the back of the trousers is an immense leather patch, while the legs are dark brown vadmel. These are my working clothes, but for Sundays and festive occasions I have a jacket and pair of white sleeves with which I wear a white shirt, fastened at the neck with very handsome silver studs. The girl dolls of my country wear very short skirts, scarcely reaching to the knees, and at the waist a leather belt with ornamental silver buttons. The bodice is white and very full, fastened at the neck and wrists with handsome silver studs. These studs are quite one of the features of the women's and girls' dress, and far more elaborate than those of the men. Below the skirt are long woolen stockings, almost invariably dark in color, and held in place below the knees by silver garters. The shoes are very curiously turned up at the toes, while the head is covered by a scarf so that hardly any of the hair shows at all. And now let me tell you about Greta, who comes from Hardanger. She is dressed in a white skirt and very full sleeves, over which she wears a red embroidered bodice and a short, full, black skirt with red braid round the hem. I must tell you about a strange hat that the older women wear in Hardanger, and which Greta declares she has often seen when she was living there. This is called the " regnhat," and if you divide the word into two syllables and say it slowly, you will not be long in understanding what it means - "rain hat," and a very suitable name too, for it is quite as good as any umbrella. The brim of this unusual hat is made of tarred felt and completely covers the shoulders, so that when heavy rain comes the wearer is quite safely protected. Well, that is how we look in our special dresses, though my little mistress herself is not so very different from the English girls and wears very much the same clothes.

       We, in common with many other of the Continental nations, are very fond of dancing, and quite among the curiosities in this way is the dance called the " halling." Last year, when we were in the country (for we all of us leave the cities and go into the country when the summer comes), I saw them dance this one evening, at an old wooden farmhouse where we were staying for a week. First of all, the dancer squatted on the floor, and then hopped sideways, in time with the music of a violin. This was followed by swaying to and fro as though he were going to leap, then the side hopping was resumed as before, faster and faster, faster and faster, until quite suddenly he threw his head backwards and with a great leap kicked the beam of the ceiling. How we all did laugh and shout, and my young mistress held me up by two arms, and made me clap my hands together in applause. I did enjoy the wonderful life at this farm, and saw many things that looked very strange in the customs and many beautiful sights of the countryside. Most of the dwelling-houses are built of timber and are placed quite close together because of the cold weather in the winter, when it would be impossible for the people to go out far distances.

       Then we have quantities of fruits; the blaaboer, which you know as bilberry, grows everywhere, and wild raspberries are nearly as abundant, and my little mistress had a great time gathering and eating both of these.

       In the cottages the peasant girls always have wooden dolls; not a bit like I am, with my lovely fair hair and blue eyes, but dolls that their fathers cut out for them from blocks of wood, which they bring in from the forest. Quite wonderful dolls complete with beautifully modeled limbs and faces, for which their mothers make the most lovely clothes, just like their own, and upon which they spend hours and hours‚ stitch, stitch, stitch, to complete the lovely embroidery with which the plainest piece of material is trimmed.

The Norwegian Halling Dance

South African Dolls; Then and Now

       A little lump of clay, beaten and pounded until it became quite plastic: that is how Mam-baumi started life as a doll. For among the Kaffirs of South Africa, about whom I am now going to tell you, the parents never give their children toys to play with, but each child makes his own.

       As I was saying, Mam-baumi started life just as a lump of clay, beaten and pounded until it was quite soft, and so could be twisted and molded into any shape that was desired. Until this point there was quite a doubt as to whether she would be a doll or an animal, such as a sheep, ox, or dog, but the little Kaffir girl‚ decided that it was to be a doll, and that her name was to be Mam-baumi. All her brothers and sisters sat round, watching to see what form the clay was to take. Presently, as the busy fingers worked, the clay began to take a shape, and they saw that it was to be the funniest little clay doll, very short and stumpy, but with arms, legs, and head all complete. When these strange dolls are finished, they are left in the hot sunlight for several days to bake and harden, and are then ready to be played with. And what games they do have, too, faithfully copying, in every detail, different phases of their own and the grown-ups' daily life.

      A very popular game with the children is weddings, and for this quite a number of dolls, oxen, etc., are needed. One boy doll is made, and a number of girls and a suitable number of oxen, so that each girl may bring her dowry to her husband. But before the wedding can take place a house or kraal must be built for the married folks to live in. This is the work of the boys, and a wonderfully skillful job they make of it. Sticks and mud are used in its building, and it is an exact copy of their own dwellings.

      This house is round in shape, and several huts are generally set down together, circled round by a hedge of bushes. The sticks are set up and held together with daub and mud that very quickly dries in the hot sunshine. As a means of entrance, there is a low doorway which can be closed at night by means of a hurdle, but this is the only opening of any kind that there is, as no windows or chimneys are thought to be necessary.

      At the middle of the hut a small depression is formed in the beaten floor, with a ring of earth round it, which serves as a fireplace, and where, in the live people's huts, a fire is always burning, night and day, The air inside is simply suffocating, for, remember, that there are neither windows nor chimney, so that all the smoke from the fire is always floating about inside, and slowly making its way out through the chinks and crevices, the best way it can. The boys build this doll's house extremely neatly, and when the walls, etc., are complete, thatching the roof is left to the girls.

       Even yet they are not ready to play weddings, for there is the furniture, etc., to be provided, and a number of clay pots, jars, etc., are formed and baked in the sun; then there are the oxen, wives, etc. Most of the remaining furniture consists of a few baskets, some sleeping mats, and wooden pillows. Then the clothes must be provided.

       The Kaffirs have a great love for European clothing, and will wear the most extraordinary combination of garments that ever you saw. The native girls and women almost all wear leather petticoats, that are made very soft by fraying, and, sometimes, tiny ones of these are made for the dolls, in imitation of their little owners. And then the great game of wedding begins, and what shouts of joy and laughter accompany it‚ for the Kaffirs are the merriest little children in all the world‚ until, finally, the brides are brought home in triumph to the dolls' house, that has been built with such pains and care.

       Sometimes the game is varied and takes the form of beer-drinking; for the children will imitate, in their play, everything that they see the grown-ups do, and everything can be turned into a doll game by the exercise of a little imagination.

       Sometimes the girls make a very curious doll from the Indian corn stalks. This dolly is made of the corn-cob, then all the grains are stripped off and the cob dressed in a piece of blanket. Two beads are used to form the eyes, and pieces of wool are ravelled out from the blanket, so as to make the hair which is stuck on the top. No Kaffir girl is allowed to take her doll to bed with her, so that all the "cuddly" times take place during the day, but she loves her funny little clay or corn-cob dolly just as much as you would love the most splendid wax or porcelain doll from London or Paris!

See the modern Mommpy MPoppy doll!

The Precious Child Of Korea

A Korean Doll.

       "Precious child!" you exclaim. Yes, I should think that I am one of the most precious children in the world, for more than a hundred of my mother's neighbors took an oath, at the time when I came to live in her home, to do everything that they could to protect and care for me.

       Of course, I am only a dolly of that little-known land Korea, but you can see that I am a very beautifully made one, and on the day that I first came to my dear little mistress, Kwang-chu, she insisted on the usual national custom being carried out in my honor.

       All the children in our village were asked to come to my birthday, and it is here that the strange story begins, a story that is true of every little boy and girl that lives in that far-off country. When a new little baby is born, it is a time of the greatest rejoicing, and all the neighbors come swarming in, each one carrying a piece of stuff (usually silk) in one of the brightest colors they can find, as a present for the new child. The gift of this piece of silk is a symbol, and means that everyone who makes such a gift pledges himself or herself to do everything he or she can to guard and look after the little stranger; so that, you see, the Korean children are always well looked after, if they happen to stray away and be beyond their parents' control.

       It was a very wonderful idea of Kwang-chuto invite all the other little girls and boys to my first birthday, so that each one should bring me a piece of silk for my " precious child jacket," so that if any of them ever found me in danger, or lost, I should at once be brought back to her, the best place on earth.

       After the party was over and all the boys and girls had gone home again, Kwang-chu gathered together all the little pieces of stuff and began to stitch and sew them together into a coat with loose sleeves, so that it slipped on and off easily without bending my arms back too far. It took her a long time, you may be sure, because, you see the pieces were many different shapes and sizes, and they had to be fitted together so as to make the best use of the material. I was proud the first time she put my jacket on me and I saw all the wonderful bright colors looking so cheerful. I expect that I shall wear my "precious" jacket for as long as ever I am a dolly, but the live children in Korea, both boys and girls, only wear them until they are three and a half years old, when the boys are put into boys' clothing and the girls into girls'. Until that time they both wear very long skirts, so long that they completely hide the long trousers that come right down to the ankles. And then, my shoes! I must tell you about those. The soles are made of plaited fiber and the uppers of openwork twisted string. They are very "comfy " to wear, because they bend every time my foot does, and I should not like the hard boots and shoes that English dolls have to wear.

       Yea, altogether my land, Korea, is a very happy one to live in. Kwang-chu treasures me as the light of her eyes, I have a gorgeous " precious child jacket" that would make many other real live Koreans very envious, and over a hundred friends are pledged to care for me, and that is more than most people could say.

       By the way, I want you to take one more look at my picture and see how well Kwang-chu has made my coat. Every single piece stitched together by her own chubby hands. It is not an uncommon matter at all nowadays for cloth, all woven in one piece and dyed in different colors, to be sold in the markets to make the "precious child jackets," but mine is one of the real old-fashioned kind, with all the pieces sewn together by my mistress, and I am very proud of it and of her too.

This video is by Maqaroon; she has many sweet craft projects you can make.

Be My Valentine Kewpie!

Description: black and white coloring page by Rose O'Neill, a Kewpie Valentine!

Don't forget to drag the png. or jpg into a Word Document and enlarge the image as much as possible before printing it folks. If you have a question about this coloring page, just type into the comment box located directly below this post and I'll try to get back to you as soon as I can.

Maria Theresa, of Hungary

       Maria Theresa, that is my little owner's name, and she is one of the happiest, healthiest, round- cheeked, bright-eyed girls in all the world. My own name is Panna, and we belong to the peasant class of people, and I think that I am one of the best-loved dolly girls in the whole of our great country. I wish you could see our cottage home, where we both live so joyfully together.

Hungarian Dolls.

       Quite a lot of us cannot read nor write, but Maria Theresa can just manage to scribble her name in a very shaky way, and she can slowly spell out words in big books; so that when she grows up she will be considered quite clever and advanced. But I was telling you about our cottage home. Every cottage in our country is built on the side of a small garden or court, that is separated from the roadway by a line of fencing, and most of the windows are placed so that they look on to the road, so that when it is a wet day, or we want to be amused, we can see everyone who happens to pass by on their journeys to the town. Under the windows runs a long bench which is called a " sychordo "which means "bearer of words,' and it is on this that people sit and gossip, some- times for hours together. Maria Theresa often sits here, with me cuddled close up against her warm little body, and sings to me so that her musical crooning voice and the warmth soon send me fast asleep, and then I wake up, perhaps long hours afterwards‚ and find that she has laid me down and gone indoors to have her dinner.

       The roof of our house is thatched with straw or reeds, and this roof projects into very broad eaves over a brick terrace that runs all round the house. This is done because of the wet time that comes in the winter season, so that we can walk in the dry without stepping into the mud that lies everywhere when the weather is bad. Some of the larger houses are built in two parts, on either side of the garden, instead of one; and, where this is so the two portions are connected by a lofty arch gateway. Always the house is whitewashed, and generally decorated here and there with bright colors, for we are very fond of a gay appearance in everything.

       And this brings me to myself and the wonderful clothes that Maria Theresa herself has made for me. I said that we were a peasant family, and so, of course, I am garbed in the national dress, for we are the only class that still continues in the old ways. Indeed, if you looked at me you would almost see Maria Theresa, for she has copied every detail of her own dress so exactly that, except that she is dark and I am fair, there is hardly any difference in us.

       First of all, I wear a cap, and it is one of the prettiest caps imaginable. It is woven by hand of cotton, and is white or cream in color. But the point about it is the wonderful embroidery that Maria Theresa has stitched into it in red and scarlet silk. This may sound funny to you, but when it is worked and all filled in between with violet and green, you would be charmed with the appearance, for none of the original white cotton, of which the cap is made, shows at all. My skirt and blouse are both of similar white cotton, worked all over with a black and red spot pattern, done in cross stitch. Over my blouse I wear a sleeveless plain coat of dark blue, lined with red silk and edged with a border of white pinked cloth. Down the front of this coat are two rows of tiny silver buttons, so that you can see I am very smart indeed. But this is not all, for I wear a little cotton apron and a sash of woven wool, in the brightest mixture of colors you can imagine. To complete me (and I should have felt sad indeed without this) I have a long necklace of black and red beads that Maria Theresa threaded for me one winter for a Christmas gift.

       Sometimes we have very gay times indeed, for we are a light-hearted people and one of our chief joys is dancing. When the shepherds come into the village is the best time, for they never seem to get tired of playing the "tilinka," and everyone dances the whole evening and far into the night. Maria Theresa is as fond of this as anyone, and, rather than miss a dance, takes me by my hands for her partner, until everyone exclaims: " Just look at Maria Theresa and Panna! What a girl she is!"

"Hungarian Girl Scout Anna Kiss explains how the various regions of

 Hungary have different embroidery, fabric, etc. so the dolls are

 different. At the Hungarian Scout Festival in Cleveland Ohio."

 http://www.clevelandpeople.com/groups...

Italian Babinos or Baby Dolls

       I am a little Italian babino, born in a land that is shaped exactly like a top-boot, and my earliest recollection of life is standing in a shop window for people to come and look at me. But I did not have to wait long. One day, a lady (whom I have never seen since) came in and bought me and had me wrapped up in paper. Then she went out into the street and found a ciocciari to carry me to the place to which she had had me addressed. These ciocciari are young girls who do somewhat the same work as English messenger boys, carrying parcels, etc., for hire. You can always tell them by their shoes, which, indeed, are their badge of office. These shoes are strange in shape and made from the hairy skin of some animal.

       I was not long before I reached my new home, and was quickly unwrapped by a little girl, with almost black hair, large eyes, and the deep olive skin that most of us have. And how she did exclaim when she saw me lying there, waiting for her to dress me, for up till then I had no clothes to wear. She quickly gave me a name, Filomena, and, by listening, I found that her own name was Maria. Her parents were very rich indeed, and she soon made me plenty of clothes so that I could appear in public, and I always went everywhere with her.

       Our land is a land of flowers and fruit and sunshine and cloudless skies, and we spend almost all

our lives in the open air. I have been with Maria all over our wonderful land, and seen almost all of its many great beauties. We have been to the mountain villages, where the goats are driven into the streets in the early morning, and the people bring out their jugs, and the animals are milked as the milk is wanted. I have been among the vineyards in autumn, when the rich purple grapes were ripe, and were being picked into large baskets and tipped into tall wooden tubs called " ligoncie."

       I have seen the olives picked and placed in the mills, where they are crushed to pulp by a big stone wheel. After these are crushed, they are put into a press, and the oil trickles into large vats beneath.

       I have been to Venice,  that wonderland, where all the roads are waterways, and, instead of riding in carriages, everyone goes about in gondolas. There are no less than 150 of these water streets, and the houses are built on piles and rise directly from the water. In front of the houses are gaily painted posts, to which the gondolas can anchor for the people to get in and out. These gondolas are long flat-bottomed boats, and are always painted black. Hundreds of these are always passing along the water streets, for all the tradesmen deliver their goods by gondolas, just the same as the people have to go to church or the theater in them. The first time I ever went in one of these gondolas, Maria whispered in my ear: " Now, Filomena, watch our gondolier." And so, you may be sure, I did. He stood up, and instead of using the oar in the usual way, he pushed out into the water instead of pulling.

       All the strokes are made on one side only, and the oar is hardly ever lifted out of the water. The Grand Canal is a marvelous sight, both by night and day, for it is two miles long and always crowded with gondolas; while the view from the Piazza, with the great dome of St. Mark's, is the finest in Europe. Beside myself, Maria has another doll whose name is Isabelle, and who was given her by an aunt. She is very charming indeed, and comes from one of the coast villages where she used to be a fisher-girl. She wears a pair of earrings, and a white blouse that is just gathered in at the neck to a narrow band. The sleeves come right down to the wrist and are very full, ending in a frill. Over this she wears a corselet of black velvet, drawn together with scarlet laces, while her skirt has a couple of scarlet bands at the bottom. The lovely embroidery on her apron is gold and blue and green and pink and orange. Her stockings are white, while her boots are of untanned leather. On her head she wears a gaily colored square scarf which is crimson and green and orange.

       We are three very happy people, and I love Isabelle almost as much as I do Maria, for we always go everywhere together, and share all the pleasures that we can.

A Doll hospital in Naples, Italy