IN a certain old-fashioned house that I visit, a large attic is set
apart as a playroom for the boys, in which to keep their tools, their
jig-saw, and their treasures of all sorts, dear to the hearts of young
people.
All around the edge of this room runs a small railway with curves and
switches complete, with bridges and tunnels, and an elegant station,
made of a deserted dog house, and painted in the newest style.
Over this track, propelled by boy-power, runs many times a day, a train
of cigar-box cars, engine and tender, baggage and passenger cars, all
in order. And everything about it, from the ties to the latest parlor
car, was made by two boys under fourteen years of age, at a very small
cost.
[Illustration: FIG. 1.]
These boys are no wiser or more skilful than other boys, and there
is nothing about it hard to make. I thought many of you young readers
of mine would like to copy it, and so I have studied the thing, taken
my instructions from the builder himself, and here it is, so plainly
told that no ordinary boy of twelve need make a mistake if he follows
directions exactly, although to make it perfectly clear, I have to use
a good many words which make it _look_ hard. To begin with the track:
first, come