There were some funny little dwarfs with pinched faces and a
knowing manner, and a giant come all the way from Russia--so 'twas
said.

The mechanical toys too were a great attraction. You dropped a
penny into a little slit in a box and a doll would begin to dance and
play the fiddle: and there was the Magic Mill, where for another
modest copper a row of tiny figures, wrinkled and old and dressed in
the shabbiest of rags, marched in weary procession up a flight of
steps into the Mill, only to emerge again the next moment at a further
door of this wonderful building looking young and gay, dressed in
gorgeous finery and tripping a dance measure as they descended
some steps and were finally lost to view.

But what was most wonderful of all and collected the goodliest
crowd of gazers and the largest amount of coins, was a miniature
representation of what was going on in France even at this very
moment.

And you could not help but be convinced of the truth of it all, so
cleverly was it done. There was a background of houses and a very
red-looking sky. "Too red!" some people said, but were immediately
quashed by the dictum of the wise, that the sky represented a sunset,
as anyone who looked could see. Then there were a number of little
figures, no taller than your hand, but with little wooden faces and
arms and legs, just beautifully made little dolls, and these were
dressed in kirtles and breeches --all rags mostly--and little coats and
wooden shoes. They were massed together in groups with their arms
all turned upwards.