a fellow really hooked in, and joined the crowd that had ignobly paid,
one of the fellows could not stand it. He asked him just how and where
he got in, and then he went to the door, and got back his money from the
doorkeeper upon the plea that he did not feel well; and in five or ten
minutes he was back among the boys, a hero of such moral grandeur as
would be hard to describe. Not one of the fellows saw him as he really
was--a little lying, thievish scoundrel. Not even my boy saw him so,
though he had on some other point of personal honesty the most fantastic
scruples.
The boys liked to be at the circus early so as to make sure of the
grand entry of the performers into the ring, where they caracoled round
on horseback, and gave a delicious foretaste of the wonders to come. The
fellows were united in this, but upon other matters feeling varied--some
liked tumbling best; some the slack-rope; some bare-back riding; some
the feats of tossing knives and balls and catching them. There never was
more than one ring in those days; and you were not tempted to break your
neck and set your eyes forever askew, by trying to watch all the things
that went on at once in two or three rings. The boys did not miss the
smallest feats of any performance, and they enjoyed them every one, not
equally, but fully. They had their preferences, of course, as I have
hinted; and one of the most popular acts was that where a horse has been
trained to misbehave, so that nobody can mount him; and after the actors
have tried him, the ring-master turns to the audience, and asks if some
gentleman among them wants to try it. Nobody stirs, till at last a tipsy
country-jake is seen making his way down from one of the top-seats
towards the ring. He can hardly walk, he is so drunk, and the clown has
to help him across the ring-board, and even then he trips and rolls over
on the sawdust, and has to be pulled to his feet. When they bring him up
to the horse, he falls against it; and the little fellows think he will
certainly get killed. But the big boys tell the little fellows to shut
up and watch out. The ring-master and the clown manage to get the
country-jake on to the broad platform on the horse's back, and then the
ring-master cracks his whip, and the two supes who have been holding the
horse's head let go, and the horse begins cantering round the ring. The
little fellows are just sure the country-jake is going to fall off, he
reels and totters so; but the big boys tell them to keep watching out;
and pretty soon the country-jake begins to straighten up. He begins to
unbutton his long gray overcoat, and then he takes it off and throws it
into the ring, where one of the supes catches it. Then he sticks a short
pipe into his mouth, and pulls on an old wool hat, and flourishes a
stick that the supe throws to him, and you see that he is an Irishman
just come across the sea; and then off goes another coat, and he comes
out a British soldier in white duck trousers and red coat.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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