By Saki
“Harvey，” said Eleanor Bope， handing her brother a cuttingfrom a London morning paper of the 19th of March， “just readthis about children’s toys， please； it exactly carries out some ofour ideas about influence and upbringing.”
“In the view of the National Peace Council，” ran the extract，“there are grave objections to presenting our boys withregiments of fighting men， batteries of guns， and squadronsof ‘Dreadnoughts.’ Boys， the Council admits， naturally lovefighting and all the panoply of war... but that is no reason forencouraging， and perhaps giving permanent form to， theirprimitive instincts. At the Children’s Welfare Exhibition，which opens at Olympia in three weeks’ time， the PeaceCouncil will make an alternative suggestion to parents in theshape of an exhibition of ‘peace toys.’ In front of a speciallypaintedrepresentation of the Peace Palace at The Hague willbe grouped， not miniature soldiers but miniature civilians， notguns but ploughs and the tools of industry... It is hoped thatmanufacturers may take a hint from the exhibit， which willbear fruit in the toy shops.”
“The idea is certainly an interesting and very well-meaningone，” said Harvey； “whether it would succeed well inpractice—”
“We must try，” interrupted his sister； “you are coming downto us at Easter， and you always bring the boys some toys， sothat will be an excellent opportunity for you to inauguratethe new experiment. Go about in the shops and buy any littletoys and models that have special bearing on civilian life in itsmore peaceful aspects. Of course you must explain the toys tothe children and interest them in the new idea. I regret to saythat the ‘Siege of Adrianople’ toy， that their Aunt Susan sentthem， didn’t need any explanation； they knew all the uniformsand flags， and even the names of the respective commanders，and when I heard them one day using what seemed to be themost objectionable language they said it was Bulgarian wordsof command； of course it may have been， but at any rate I tookthe toy away from them. Now I shall expect your Easter giftsto give quite a new impulse and direction to the children’sminds； Eric is not eleven yet， and Bertie is only nine-and-ahalf，so they are really at a most impressionable age.”
“There is primitive instinct to be taken into consideration，you know，” said Harvey doubtfully， “and hereditary tendenciesas well. One of their great-uncles fought in the mostintolerant fashion at Inkerman—he was specially mentioned indispatches， I believe—and their great-grandfather smashed allhis Whig neighbours’ hot houses when the great Reform Billwas passed. Still， as you say， they are at an impressionableage. I will do my best.”
On Easter Saturday Harvey Bope unpacked a large，promising-looking red cardboard box under the expectanteyes of his nephews. “Your uncle has brought you the newestthing in toys，” Eleanor had said impressively， and youthfulanticipation had been anxiously divided between Albaniansoldiery and a Somali camel-corps. Eric was hotly in favour ofthe latter contingency. “There would be Arabs on horseback，”
he whispered； “the Albanians have got jolly uniforms， and theyfight all day long， and all night， too， when there’s a moon， butthe country’s rocky， so they’ve got no cavalry.”
A quantity of crinkly paper shavings was the first thing thatmet the view when the lid was removed； the most exiting toysalways began like that. Harvey pushed back the top layer anddrew forth a square， rather featureless building.
“It’s a fort！” exclaimed Bertie.
“It isn’t， it’s the palace of the Mpret of Albania，” said Eric，immensely proud of his knowledge of the exotic title； “it’sgot no windows， you see， so that passers-by can’t fire in at theRoyal Family.”
“It’s a municipal dust-bin，” said Harvey hurriedly； “you seeall the refuse and litter of a town is collected there， instead oflying about and injuring the health of the citizens.”
In an awful silence he disinterred a little lead figure of a manin black clothes.
“That，” he said， “is a distinguished civilian， John Stuart Mill.
He was an authority on political economy.”
“Why？” asked Bertie.
“Well， he wanted to be； he thought it was a useful thing to be.”
Bertie gave an expressive grunt， which conveyed his opinionthat there was no accounting for tastes.
Another square building came out， this time with windowsand chimneys.
“A model of the Manchester branch of the Young Women’sChristian Association，” said Harvey.
“Are there any lions？” asked Eric hopefully. He had beenreading Roman history and thought that where you foundChristians you might reasonably expect to find a few lions.
“There are no lions，” said Harvey. “Here is another civilian，Robert Raikes， the founder of Sunday schools， and here is amodel of a municipal wash-house. These little round thingsare loaves baked in a sanitary bakehouse. That lead figure is asanitary inspector， this one is a district councillor， and this oneis an official of the Local Government Board.”
“What does he do？” asked Eric wearily.
“He sees to things connected with his Department，” saidHarvey. “This box with a slit in it is a ballot-box. Votes are putinto it at election times.”
“What is put into it at other times？” asked Bertie.
