In 1858, Astley’s had a rival in the Alhambra, which, having failed to realize the anticipations of its founders as a Leicester Square Polytechnic, under the name of the Panopticon, was converted by Mr E. T. Smith into an amphitheatre. Charles Keith, known all over Europe as ‘the roving English clown,’ and Harry Croueste were the clowns; and Wallett was also engaged in the same capacity during a portion of the season. One of the special attractions of the Alhambra circle was the vaulting and tumbling of an Arab troupe from Algeria. Vaulting is usually performed by European artistes with the aid of a spring-board, and over the backs of the horses, placed side by side. The head vaulter leads, and the rest of the company—clowns, riders, acrobats, and gymnasts—follow, repeating the bound until the difficulty of the feat, increasing as one horse after another is added to the group, causes the less skilful performers to drop, one by one, out of the line. The Arab vaulters at the Alhambra dispensed with the spring-board, and threw somersaults over bayonets fixed on the shouldered muskets of a line of soldiers. This feat has since been performed by an Arab named Hassan, who, with his wife, a French rope-dancer, has performed in several circuses in this country. Vauxhall Gardens, which had been closed for several years, opened on the 25th of July, in this year, for a farewell performance, in which a circus troupe played an important part, with Harry Croueste as clown. Then the once famous Gardens were given over to darkness and decay, until the fences were levelled, the trees grubbed up, and the site covered with streets, some of which, as Gye Street and Italian Street, still recall the former glories of Vauxhall by their names. Some reminiscences of the provincial circus entertainments of this period have been furnished by Mr C. W. Montague, formerly with Sanger’s, Bell’s, F. Ginnett’s, Myers’s, and William and George Ginnett’s circuses, and now manager of Newsome’s establishment. ‘Early in the spring of 1859,’ says this gentleman, ‘some business took me into the neighbourhood of Whitechapel, and while passing the London Apprentice public-house, I heard my name shouted, and looking round espied Harry Graham, whom I had known in the elder Ginnett’s circus. He was doing a conjuring trick outside a miserable booth, at the same time inviting the public to walk in, the charge being only one halfpenny. On the completion of the trick, he jumped off the platform, and insisted on our adjourning to the public-house, where he explained the difficulty he was in, having been laid up all the winter with rheumatic gout. On his partial recovery, he was compelled to accept the first thing that offered, which was an engagement with the owner of the booth, a man known in the profession as the Dudley Devil.