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Aunty Delluvian was very much amused with the dwarf; it reminded her of a trick that was played on her mother's father – who was once Governor of Massachusetts – and described by her uncle George, who was such a droll fellow, he always had some of his puns to get off. She did not remember the story exactly, but it was something about a dwarf being served up in a pie at the Governor's table, in such a way that the dwarf popped out when the Governor was about to carve the pie. "Oh! it was such a funny story; if you could only have heard her uncle George tell it," and Aunty Delluvian went into silent convulsions of laughter at the bare memory of the exquisite humor of uncle George's narration. "But that was before your time, my dear; and between you and me, the young men are very dull nowadays, with their cigars, and their moustaches, and their fiddle-faddle – but mum, mum, my dear," and Aunty Delluvian laid her fingers on her lips, as though she had been communicating a most important secret. As to the dwarf of this evening, having no control over his hands, for the reason that they belonged to the person behind him, he was subject to the most grievous annoyance from those members; they would persist in pulling his own nose to a fearful extent, and performing that manual evolution known as taking a sight in the middle of his prettiest speech to the ladies; he, however, enjoyed a limited revenge on one of these occasions by catching the extended thumb between his teeth and doing something to it, the nature of which could only be inferred from the howl of agony proceeding from the person immediately behind him, and a general dislocation and disintegration of his various members, which occurred amidst the shouts of the spectators.

A slight pause ensuing on the completion of the dwarf performance, afforded an opportunity to the young man in gold spectacles to come upon the stage. He had something very ingenious to show us. It was a trick performed with four small seeds, and was invented by a certain poor tutor at one of the English universities. Although exceedingly simple, no one had been able to discover the secret, when finally some English nobleman, whose name he mentioned, gave the poor tutor five hundred pounds to reveal the mystery. Having concluded this little introduction, the gentleman in gold spectacles turned to Aunty Delluvian, and asked her if she would be kind enough to let him have four grains of rice. "Lor' bless the man! to be sure I will, as much as ever you like!" exclaimed Aunty, in the fulness of her generous heart, as she turned round and called to the servant at the other end of the room: "Here, Katy, fetch up what was left of that cold rice-pudding we had yesterday." The gentleman in gold spectacles hastily explained that he did not wish the rice to be boiled, and four grains would be ample. However, Aunty Delluvian insisted upon all the rice in the establishment being produced. The gentleman in gold spectacles selected four grains, and throwing them on the table, challenged us to arrange them in such a manner that each grain should be precisely the same distance from every other grain, and yet the grains not touch each other. We all took our turn till we were tired, and then gave it up, save a couple of determined fellows, who requested they might have till their next meeting to find it out, which respite was accordingly granted.

We were now tumultuously beset with demands for the solution of two riddles in our last chapter. First came the question: "Why were Moses and the Jews the best bred people in the world?"

Answer. "Because they got their manna (manner) from heaven."

The second was: "Why meat should always be cooked rare?"

Answer. "Because what is done cannot be helped."

After this came cakes and nuts and cider. Aunty Delluvian thought nuts and cider could never come amiss, and we agree with her when the cider is such as she produced, clear, fruity, sparkling, which, as it courses down your gullet, seems like health incarnate, and as far superior to that bedevilled liquid which city boobies call champagne, and pay three dollars a bottle for, as faith is to smartness. So ended our evening at Aunty Delluvian's.

CHAPTER VIII

The Highlanders are a hardy race, inhabiting the north of Scotland. They are brave, hospitable, and exceedingly fond of dancing.

When you reflect that a very moderate nigger used to fetch one thousand dollars, it will be exhilarating to know that you can have a Highlander, with all his natural characteristics, for nothing. Yet such is our proposition to you on the present occasion.

Will you have him for nothing?

We assume, of course, that you have at least one hand. A foot will not answer.

You have a hand?

Well!

Get an old glove and cut off the thumb and fingers to about the extent represented in the annexed diagram.

Place the glove on your hand, and then hold your hand in the position represented below. You will now have a general idea of what is to constitute the substratum of the Highlander.

Now make a pair of little socks to fit your first and second fingers. Here is a picture of the style in which they should be gotten up. These socks can be made of white linen or calico, and painted with water-colors of the desired pattern – the shoes black and the socks plaid. If the colors are mixed with very little water they will not run on the cloth. We suggest water-colors because the plaid can be very neatly represented by cross lines of red and green. If, however, you have no water-colors, you can stitch the stockings across with red and green thread. It will be well to bear in mind that as your second finger is longer than the first, the stocking for the first must be stuffed out with cotton or wool to make it equal in length to the second.

Now make a careful copy of our full-page picture opposite; stitch it on to the back of the glove; put the socks on your fingers, and your Highlander is ready to dance, as represented in the above cut.

You move about the fingers, simulating a man dancing the Highland-fling or double-shuffle, and the result will be very curious and eminently satisfactory.

Another variation of the same performance can be made, which will save the trouble of drawing a Highlander. It is done thus: You procure a kid glove, and cut it down as before. You will see by the subjoined cut how the hand looks with the glove on before it has been fixed up. A white kid glove is best, because on the white kid you can paint almost the entire dress with water-colors – blue vest, red sash, and black pantaloons. A little piece of some gay rag must, however, be stitched on each side to represent the jacket; the chief object of the jacket being to hide the knuckles of the third and fourth fingers.

Now, having fixed your glove and put it on, paint on your hand a face in the style of the following sketch, and your dancing Spaniard, or Terpsichorean Matadore, is ready for action. The glove forms a complete suit (barring the boots), which you can slip off and on with the greatest ease at pleasure.

If you have not a white kid glove wherewith to make the dress of the above-mentioned gentleman, you will have to sew a small piece of calico or paper in the proper place, for the shirt. You will also be obliged to make him a vest out of some little scrap of red or blue silk; in short, you must use your needle instead of your paint-brush. But this is plain enough and needs no further explanation.

There is one more item, however, which we must mention. It will be found rather difficult to paint moustaches on the hand so as to give them the right merry expression. The teeth, which lend so much life to the face, are troublesomely small to represent. We therefore think it best to draw a pair of moustaches exactly similar to the ones we subjoin, which can be made to stick in their place by the aid of a little diaclon or shoemaker's wax.

CHAPTER IX

The scientific gentleman at our last meeting bewildered us all with four grains of rice. It will be remembered that he challenged us to arrange those four seeds in such a manner that each should be an equal distance from each, and yet not touch each other. Did we belong to the betting class, we would be willing to wager a moderately-sized cobble-stone that not one of our readers has yet solved the problem. It is explained thus: You lay three of the seeds on the table in the form of an equilateral triangle; then taking the fourth seed between the finger and thumb, you hold it above the other three, in the position represented in diagram on page 106. In this way, and this alone, can the objects be so arranged as to be each equidistant from each. It is a very simple matter when once explained, but we never yet knew any one to find it out.

Our friend Nix is in very fervid condition concerning a new picturesque trick he has learned. It is an old affair, but very funny, and consists in making an old woman's face with your fist, and is done as follows: You double your fist, as represented in the above diagram, and draw on it a face as also represented.

Then you make a species of hood something like a mitten, with a hole in the side, around which hole you sew a frill, to make it look like a cap, which we also illustrate with a diagram. The mitten is placed on the hand, and a shawl pinned carefully round it, as shown in our diagram on page 108, and you have the old woman complete.

Now, in order to make the old woman appear to speak, you must move the knuckle of the thumb up and down, at the same time simulate a cracked, squeaky old voice. By moving your thumb in time to your voice, the illusion becomes perfect. You can, of course, make the old woman say whatever you please; but the more emphatic the style of her conversation the better, as you can make the jaw more energetic, and the pauses more marked. The conversation might commence something in this style (you in your natural tone of voice): "Well, aunty, how are you to-day?"

Aunty Grummidge: "How am I? Ah! Hum! I'm well enough if it warn't for them plaguey boys! Drat the boys! Heavin' stones at my geese! I'll geese them, if I ketch 'em! Drat 'em! and tramplin' all over my string-beans! Drat 'em! I'll string-bean 'em, if I ketch hold of 'em! And then the pesky young warmints callin' me old Dot-and-go-one! I'll old Dot-and-go-one them, if I ketch hold of 'em."

It will require a little practice to keep time between the thumb and the voice; but by making the phrases short and emphatic, it will be soon learned. When the old woman has done talking, you can stick a pipe in her mouth, and make her look quite comfortable.

CHAPTER X

"In those days there were giants." Those days were the days when our mother was a young lady, and, as we devoutly believe, the most beautiful woman of her period; when our father's side-whiskers were glossy black; when he wore his hat just a leetle bit on one side, and when they twain used now and then to go forth magnificently arrayed after the lamps were lit, to balls and parties, whilst we little ones sat up in our white beds to receive the parting kiss and injunction flavored with blessings and eau de cologne. In those days, we repeat, there were giants. Giants in our story-books, giants in our young imaginations, mere suckers from the parent stem of the story-books, but terrible in their proportions. There were giants, too, in our narrow path, springing out of our waywardness and evil passions, and the evil passions of others; there were giants, too, on the road to knowledge; oh, such monstrous giants all of them, far bigger and fiercer than any we ever met in after life. But there was another giant of a far different sort, who used to make his appearance at our little parties about Christmas-time, and in sustaining whose character we have over and over again sweltered and staggered and suffered martyrdom the most terrible. Still he was a pleasant giant (particularly to the upper-story boy), and welcome to the whole company. He had a very youthful look, in spite of his ferocious moustache; his hat had a tendency to drop over his eyes and his gait was erratic; though his proportions inspired awe in the hearts of the tiny portion of the audience. We have but rarely met this gentleman in later days, partially, we fancy, from a difficulty in procuring legs; we have observed a growing disinclination in persons to perform these members; indeed, we have ourself shrunk several times from the task. It is, indeed, an ordeal rather severe, after partaking heartily of Christmas dinner, and, perhaps, generously of wine, to walk about a hot room with a warm boy on your shoulders, and your entire person – head, face, and all – enveloped in a heavy cloak or overcoat, and not a breath of fresh air to be taken under penalty of spoiling the giant.

A small and cool boy is placed on the shoulders of a man or boy who is stout in the legs; a long military cloak or overcoat is thrown over the two, and the monster is made. You can embelish him with moustaches, a hat, and a long walking-cane, and then you will have the creature complete, as represented in the picture opposite.

CHAPTER XI

Folly is better than physic. If no one ever made this aphorism before, we at once lay claim to and include it in our copyright; entered according to act of Congress in the clerk's office, and all the rest of it. A good old-fashioned time we had of it last Christmas evening at the house of our friend Nix. What a happy, merry, jolly crowd of noodles, ninnies, judies, tomfools, and undignified people we were to be sure! Nix gave himself unheard-of moustaches and eyebrows with India-ink, and then washed himself into the likeness of a boss chimney-sweep, in which condition he remained the whole evening, and came to business the next day with a faint tinge of the dusty pigment under his left ear, although he averred that he had parboiled himself over night with scalding soap and water in honest efforts to remove the oriental stain.

At this distance of time it would be hard to recall who were the guests at this tomfool's festival, even had we ever known them all; but a fluttering of little faces and pink sashes, and very bunchy frocks suggestive of new crinoline – indeed, now we think of it, one wee thing told us emphatically she had on a "noo hoop-stirt," and raised her short red frock to show us the inestimable treasure; and that again reminds us of another toddler, of the masculine persuasion, who thrice called our attention to his new boots, and once requested us to feel the soles where his mother had scratched them with her scissors to prevent his slipping on the carpets. But, as we were saying, a certain confused picture of fluttering pink sashes, bunchy crinoline, blue eyes, and flushed cheeks, is one of the chefs-d'œuvre in the private gallery of our memory, and was nearly all we carried away from that foolish Christmas carnival. We remember, though, Aunty Delluvian, in all the pomp, pride, and circumstance of a dress which might have been described by some fashionable modiste of fifty years ago, but before which the steel nibs of a modern pen grow parched and gape inkless in their course over the cream laid. We can state that it was of silk, and very thick, and rustled, and had an odor, not of myrrh – for that we have purchased at the drug stores as being good for the gums – though perhaps of frankincense, but certainly of some Eastern perfume; and there our descriptive capacity ends. Concerning certain gems and trinkets, also worn by that worthy lady, we are equally humble and bewildered; but if our memory serves us rightly, they were chiefly of pale and yellow stones surrounded by pearls, and of oval and slender forms, save one sombre brooch (she wore in the neck of her dress under a bow of ribbon), which has hair in it, and was shown us as a rare piece of workmanship and a great relic; indeed, Aunty Delluvian informed us, very confidentially, that a person by the name of Sally Mason would have given her ears to possess it once – from which we judged it to be of great value.

The scientific gentleman was there; and others "too numerous to mention," as the advertisements say. One of the company, whom we had never met before, left a particular impression on our mind, partly because he came from a far-off land, with a large budget of strange knowledge and exotic ideas, and partly because he showed us a quite curious and simple little toy. Among other things he expatiated on the dexterity of the Australasian savages in the use of the boomerang, which they would throw in such a way as to make it skim entirely around a house and return to their feet. He told us that one of these savages would seize his boomerang and send it whirling into a flock of parrots, bringing down half a dozen of the birds, and then return to his feet. He added that parrot-pie was excellent eating; a statement which sent a thrill of indignation through the juvenile portion of the company. The idea of cooking birds that say "Pretty Poll!" While the young were indignant, many of the elders felt incredulous, touching the boomerang; one person, indeed, delicately hinting that "throwing the boomerang" must be the Australasian equivalent of our expression "pulling the long bow;" but Aunty Delluvian, who had just heard the latter part of the discourse, came gallantly to the rescue (she had taken rather a notion to the young Australian). She assured the company that there could be no doubt of the existence of the boomerang, for an uncle of hers had on a certain occasion brought one from China, and that it grew so tame that it would come and feed out of your hand. This statement, as may be supposed, produced a profound sensation, which good breeding alone prevented from being an explosion. Several persons present tried to hush the matter up by suggesting that the good lady probably confounded the instrument in question with a baboon or orang-outang. But Aunty Delluvian would listen to nothing of the kind; no compromises for her. "Bless the child, she had seen it with her own eyes, and it went all round the house and came back to her feet, and caught the pigeon, and killed the parrot, just as the gentleman described." However, the young antipodean asserted his own veracity very effectively by offering to manufacture a model of the weapon then and there.

"If you will only provide me," he said, "with a good stiff card – an old playing-card will do as well as anything – I will soon satisfy you that what I described can be done."

The card was produced, and in a couple of minutes he had with a pair of scissors clipped out a piece of the size and shape of the subjoined diagram. He then borrowed a book and a lead pencil, and placed the miniature boomerang on the former, with one end projecting over the edge of the book about an inch. He then took the book in his left hand, and holding it at a slight angle as represented in the diagram, page 119, struck the projecting end a smart blow with the pencil. This sent it whirling through the air towards the opposite corner of the ceiling, which it nearly though not quite reached – then it came fluttering back to the very feet of the performer. This operation was repeated several times with almost universal applause, the only dissentient voice being that of a little shaver of five, who wanted to see the parrots come down.

About this time it became evident that some mysterious preparations were being made outside. A good deal of whispering occurred, and Nix, with one or two others, disappeared from the apartment. We, in the meantime, amused ourselves with sundry time-honored experiments. First came an optical illusion-trick, the fun of which consisted in the futile efforts of several persons to knock a cork off a fork with the fore-finger; and is performed thus: A steel fork, or some other sharp instrument, is stuck in the door, and a cork placed on the end of it.

The person wishing to test his skill places himself in front of it; fixing his eyes on the cork, he then walks slowly backwards ten or twelve feet, his eyes still fixed on the cork; having done which, he extends his right hand, closes an eye, and advances towards the cork, till he thinks he has reached near enough to knock the cork from its position with one blow of the finger. Nine times out of ten the performers fail, as they did on the occasion in question. This experiment seemed to afford a good excuse to a certain little witch, with black eyes, to propose the performance of pinning a thimbleful of water to the wall. The thimble was filled with water, a pin borrowed, and mademoiselle, escorted by her cavalier – a young gentleman in patent-leather boots, and breathing incense from every curl of his hair, and from every part of his dress, to a degree calculated to drive Phalon mad and ruin the reputation of Arabia. Escorted by this exquisite being, the young lady repaired to the spot selected for the experiment; but, alas! just as she was about to fix the thimble to the wall the pin dropped to the floor. In an instant the perfumed gallant was on his knees searching for the lost article, and with equal promptitude the treacherous belle had emptied the water on his fragrant pate, amid the roars of laughter of those around – for in this consisted the trick.

While we were still laughing the door opened, and Nix entered, somewhat flushed, and with a comical frown on his brow.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "I have a serious complaint to make – really it is too bad. Upon my life it is. I think Miss Mary Fenn and Miss Julia Farley, and several of the other young ladies, ought to be spoken to" (the ladies mentioned and several others here colored up and looked rather scared). "I think they ought to be very seriously spoken to, going round in this reckless way. Why, upon my life, there's no knowing what may happen – and they don't care one bit. They care no more for a fellow-creature than I do for a fly. Ah! (with a sigh) there is one feller-creature which I wish they would think a little more of. In common honesty they ought to do something to their eyes – wear spectacles, or something of that sort; and for their lips, since nature has seen fit not to provide them with moustaches, they might use respirators or – or – or – well, something has to be done, or there won't be a sane man in the neighborhood. I myself have a severe pain in my left side; and here, when I go outside – I don't mean the left side, but outside the room – for a little temporary relief, I find a poor fellow maimed, probably for life – his head completely turned."

At this point a figure resembling the opposite sketch walks in, and declares that he would not have his head turned back for the world; on the contrary, he finds his present position far more comfortable than any other, etc., etc., etc.

The construction of this figure is so simple that it seems almost superfluous to explain it. The person performing it puts on a loose coat and vest, wrong side foremost, fastens a false face to the back of his head, and a wig over his face, and the whole is complete. The wig may be made of curled hair from an old mattress, sewed on to a black silk cap. By the way, while we are on the subject, we may as well say a word or two more concerning this curled hair, which will be found very useful for amateur theatricals. With a handful of this cheap material (the imitation or grass substitute will answer just as well), you can make beards, whiskers, and moustaches of any desired shape. All that is required is to twist, stretch, or mould the tangled mass into the desired shape, and then, in the proper place, stick on a small piece of diachylon, and the appendage is ready for use. The diachylon can be purchased in lump form of any druggist. In order to adhere it to the face, it should be slightly warmed before the fire.

"Why, bless my soul alive, if the poor fellow's head isn't turned!" exclaimed Aunty Delluvian, in unfeigned surprise. "Well, some foolish fellows do get their heads turned by the girls," and the good old lady laughed heartily, honestly believing she had made a joke. Indeed, she patted us on the knee to draw our attention, as she added, in an explanatory way:

"You know, when I was a girl, and any young fellow fell in love with one of the girls, we used to say his head was turned; so I say that young man's head is turned – don't you see!" and again the old lady went off in a transport of merriment at her own wit. But in a moment it was over, and when we turned there was something glistening in her eye, as she looked dreamily before her out of that Christmas-day away off, doubtless, to some other Christmas-day when young men had their heads turned by designing young women. But there was no time for reverie; for Nix, who had assumed the position of showman, now made himself heard, bellowing through his nose:

"Now, ladies and gentleman, I will proceed to show you a highly moral exhibition, some of the four-footed works of nature, or, as they are commonly called, quadrupedals. This exhibition, by calling the mind to contemplate the works of nature, elevates the soul to things above, and makes us all better fathers, husbands, wives, sweethearts, sons, and girls to do general housework. Now, ladies and gentlemen, I would ask you who, after contemplating the rhinoceros, would fail to return home a more dutiful parent or respectful sweetheart? But, to step from the realms of fancy to the practical regions of fact, I will proceed to interdooce to you that splendid anumile Saladin, the royal Bengal tiger, from Botteny Bay, in the West Injees. This wonderful creature measures sixteen feet from the tip of the tail to the tip of the snout, and sixteen feet from the tip of the snout to the tip of the tail, making in all thirty-two feet."

At this point of his oration the showman paused, opened the door, and gave a loud whistle, when in scampered a creature more easily sketched than described. At first we did not recognise the stub-tailed bull-terrier Snap, so completely was he disguised and bestriped with black paint, more to resemble a zebra, however, than a tiger. Snap, all unconscious of his new character, began frisking and capering round, wagging his tail vociferously, as Nix expressed it.

"This beautiful but terrible creature," continued Nix, "is exquisitely marked by nature. His, however, are not good-conduct marks, for, in his native wilds, his behavior is anything but proper. He will devour anything that comes in his way, having been known, when pressed by hunger, to eat even an alderman. Such being the nature of the beast, I will now proceed to show you a more amiable specimen of this moral exhibition. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the largest of all animals. It belongs to Asia and Africa. We have no elephants, naturally, in America, any more than we have Irishmen. They are all imported at great expense, two ships being required to bring over each creature, one for himself, and one for his trunk, I believe."

Enter elephant (adjoining page).

"The elephant lives chiefly on ginger-snaps, sugar, rice, and cayenne pepper, which, at the present price of groceries, makes his board come rather heavy. You have all heard of the sagacity of the elephant – how he squirted the dirty water over that injudicious tailor who ran his needle into the elephant's trunk. But, ladies and gentlemen, I was witness to a more singular instance of intelligence on the part of this elephant here, which is, perhaps, the largest of its kind ever imported to this country. While passing through the streets of one of our inland towns during the late election, this very anumile seized a slip of paper from one of the crowd, rushed up to the polls, and actually voted the Union ticket before we knew what he was about."

In this strain Nix continued for some time, while the elephant walked round the room. Little boys were mounted on his back for a ride, and enjoyed the fun hugely.

The scientific gentleman with gold spectacles threw a temporary damper on the merriment by asking, in a sombre voice, whether we knew how many times round the elephant's foot was equal to his height, and then equally solemnly informing us that it was "Twice." Having said "twice!" very emphatically, he became silent, and the fun went on.

Now comes the question – How was the elephant made? A glance at the annexed picture will throw considerable light on the subject at once.

Here we have the usual human substratum. Two gentlemen, wearing rubbers, place themselves in the position represented, while the foremost one holds something in his hands. This is a grey shawl or table-cover, rolled up to represent the elephant's trunk, which the performer swings about to produce a life-like effect. All that now remains to be done is to procure another grey shawl and spread it over the united operators, fastening two pieces of round paper, with black dots on them, in the proper places, for eyes, and a couple of rags or old gloves for ears. The elephant is now complete, save the tusks. These can be made out of long pieces of twisted white paper, pinned to the inside of the shawl, and there you have a first-rate elephant for a small tea-party. Dish, and serve up with lots of sass, as the cookery books say. But let us listen to Nix; he is spouting some more nonsense:

"Ladies and gentlemen: This elephant was captured and imported into this country by a Bengal officer, Colonel Gurramuchy, whom I shall have much pleasure in introducing to you. You have all heard of Cumming – well, he is coming."

Here entered the most extraordinary being we had ever beheld; a very military-looking person, with a very small head and an exceedingly long neck. However, refer to the illustration, where you see him faithfully portrayed. Following him was an equally singular person, who was presented to us as Captain Dawk, a particular friend of the Colonel's, whose portrait we likewise subjoin. These gentlemen chatted with Nix, and told us one or two of their hunting adventures – the most extravagant yarns. We have only space for one, which we shall condense as much as possible. Captain Dawk once, while hunting the wild boar in India, had the misfortune to have his horse ripped open by the tusks of the infuriated beast. His horse of course fell heavily, and died almost immediately. While he was standing at the side of the poor creature, deploring his loss, and wondering how he should ever reach home, he beheld at some distance from him, on the open plain, a huge tiger approaching. There was no tree within miles; to run away would have been useless; he at once bethought himself of an idea. Seizing his hunting-knife, he rapidly removed the internals of the horse, and crept into the cavity himself. The tiger, on coming up, seized the horse by the neck, and dragged it several miles to its den in the jungle, where it commenced at once to feast upon the carcass. Watching a favorable opportunity, when the tiger had eaten a hole in the horse's side, Captain Dawk drew a small revolver from his pocket, and shot the animal dead. He was just in the act of crawling from his place of concealment when he beheld five more tigers approaching. Four of these he shot one after the other from inside the horse, and then all his ammunition was exhausted, and one tiger was left alive; but, drawing his knife, he resolved to sell his life dearly. Here the Captain gave us a most harrowing account of his encounter with the last tiger, which was larger than any of the others. First it broke both his legs, then his arms, then his back, and finally the ferocious beast got the officer's head into its mouth – but to conclude in his own words: "I felt the hot breath in my face, the sharp teeth pressing both sides of my skull. In another instant I felt all would be over, and my worst fears were realized. With one gripe the wretched brute bit off my head, and then tearing me limb from limb, devoured me on the spot." This story was pronounced a stunner.