"
By shoving aside the fire-guard in the absence of our nurses, we
obtained some cinders, with which we repaired to our post at the
window, thus illustrating that natural proclivity of children to
places of danger which is the bane of parents and guardians. Here we
fastened up little fragments of cinder in pieces of writing-paper, and
having secured them tidily with string, we dropped these parcels
through the iron bars as into a post-office. It was a breathless
moment when they fell through space like shooting stars. It was a
triumph if they cleared the area. But the aim and the end of our
labours was to see one of our missives attract the notice of a
passer-by, then excite his curiosity, and finally--if he opened
it--rouse his unspeakable disgust and disappointment.
Like other tricksters, our game lasted long because of the ever-green
credulity of our "public." In the ever-fresh stream of human life
which daily flowed beneath our windows, there were sure to be one or
more pedestrians who, with varying expressions of conscientious
responsibility, unprincipled appropriation, or mere curiosity, would
open our parcels, either to ascertain what trinket should be restored
to its owner, or to keep what was to be got, or to see what there was
to be seen.
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