Dimple Perkins took the part of the Snake Charmer from Brooklyn, and at intervals wrestled fearlessly with a short piece of garden hose which was labeled on the bills as an "Anna Condy." This he wound around his neck in the most reckless manner possible; it was quite enough to make one's blood run cold to watch him. The King of the Cannibal Islands was draped in a buffalo robe, with a gilt paper crown adorning his head, and a very suggestive mutton-bone in his hand. Poor little Herman Amdursky was selected for the Living Skeleton, because of the spindle-like character of his nethermost limbs. He had to remove his trousers and his coat, and submit to having his ribs wound with yards of torn sheeting, in order that what little flesh he had might be compressed to the smallest possible compass. The result was astonishingly satisfactory. The Wild Man from Borneo wore his clothes wrong side out, as it is well known wild men from Borneo always do; and he ate grass with avidity. Wry-mouthed and squint-eyed, he was the incarnation of the cubist ideal. When all this splendid array of talent issued from the dressing-room and marched triumphantly around the ring, it was indeed a proud moment in the annals of Durford, and the applause from the lumber pile could be heard at least two blocks. After the procession, the entertainment proper consisted of some high and lofty tumbling, the various "turns" of the respective stars, and then, last of all, as a grand finale, Charley, the old raw-boned farm horse who had been retired on a pension for at least a year, was led triumphantly into the ring, with Nickey Burke standing on his back! Charley, whose melancholy aspect was a trifle more abject than usual, and steps more halting, meekly followed the procession of actors around the ring, led by Dimple, the Snake Charmer. Nickey's entree created a most profound sensation, and was greeted with tumultuous applause--a tribute both to his equestrian feat and to his costume. Nickey had once attended a circus at which he had been greatly impressed by the artistic decorations on the skin of a tattooed man, and by the skill of the bareback rider who had turned somersaults while the horse was in motion. It occurred to him that perhaps he might present somewhat of both these attractions, in one character. Maxwell had innocently stimulated this taste by lending him a book illustrated with lurid color-plates of Indians in full war paint, according to tribe. So Nickey removed his clothes, attired himself in abbreviated red swimming trunks, and submitted to the artistic efforts of Dimple, who painted most intricate, elaborate, and beautiful designs on Nickey's person, with a thick solution of indigo purloined from the laundry.