"No wonder it wouldn't say anything," he cried. "What do you suppose the book was?" "I don't know," said Jimmieboy. "What?" "An old copy-book with nothing in it. That's pretty good!" At this moment the telephone bell rang, and the Imp had to go see what was wanted. "Excuse me for a moment, Jimmieboy," he said, as he started to leave the room. "I've got to send a message for somebody. I'll turn on one of the picture-books, so that while I am gone you will have something to look at." The Imp then fastened a wire to the battery, turned on the current, and directing Jimmieboy's attention to the sheet of white canvas at the end of the library, left the room. V _THE CIRCUS_ The pictures that now followed one another across the canvas were better than any circus Jimmieboy ever went to, for the reason that they showed a water circus in which were the finest imaginable sea-monsters doing all sorts of marvellous things; and then, too, the book the Imp had turned on evidently had some reading matter in it, for as the pictures passed before the little fellow's eyes he could hear verses describing what was going on, repeating themselves from a shelf directly back of him. First of all in the circus was the grand parade. A great big gilded band-wagon drawn by gayly caparisoned Sea-Horses went first, and then Jimmieboy could judge how much better electric circus books were than those he had in his nursery, for this book was able to do what his had never done--it furnished music to go with the band--and such music as it was! It had all the pleasant features of the hand-organ; was as soft and sweet in parts as the music-box in the white-and-gold parlor, and once in a while would play deliciously out of tune like a real circus band. After the band-wagon there followed the most amusing things that Jimmieboy ever saw, the Trick Oysters, twelve in number, and all on foot. Next came the mounted Scallops, riding ten abreast on superbly groomed Turtles, holding the bridle of each of which walked Lobsters dressed as Clowns. Then came the menagerie, with great Sea-Lions swimming in tanks on wheels; marine Giraffes standing up to their necks in water forty feet deep; four-legged Whales, like the Oysters, on foot, and hundreds of other queer fish, all doing things Jimmieboy had never supposed they could do. When the parade was over a great circus ring showed itself upon the canvas, and as strains of lovely music came from the left of the tent the book on the shelf began to recite: "The Codfish walks around, The Bass begins to sing; The Whitebait 'round the Terrapin's cage Would better get out of the ring. The Gudgeon is the fish That goes to all the shows, He swims up to the Teredos And tweaks him by the nose." "That Gudgeon must have been a sort of Van Amberg," thought Jimmieboy. "He did brave things like that." Then the book went on again: