The clowns of the modern circus must needs possess, they confidently assert, more vivacity, wit and observation than their predecessors. The magnitude of the spread of canvas almost entirely precludes the possibility of effective oral utterance, and their drollery is confined to gesture, movement and posturing. This dumb acting places the funmaker at a decided disadvantage, and the problem of creations that will meet public favor is one requiring unusual natural aptitude. Frank Oakley (“Slivers”), fitted by nature for the part, sprang into wonderful public favor in a season. In the grateful shade of the “big top,” during the period between the two performances, I sat one afternoon with an old-time performer whose age keeps him from the ring, but the memory of whose famous feats retains him in the employ of the circus. The seductive fascination and charm of the life has never dulled within him, and until accumulated years finally forbid, he declares he will be a member of the organization. He was in a reminiscent mood and began: “In the old days I remember a feature of our circus was Nettie Collins’s lilt ‘Dance me on Your Knee.’ The band played the flowing melody, and she bowed and waved as she sang on a little platform in the ring. It made a great hit for several seasons. Here’s how its lines went, and many an old-time circus goer will call them to mind: When I was a little girl and full of childish joys I used to play with all the girls, but oftener with the boys; And with them climb the apple trees, and races, too, we’d run, I’ll tell you, oh, ’twas then, my boys, we had such jolly fun; But now those days are past and gone, no more them I will see, If I could only call them back, how happy I would be. You may dance me, darling, dance me, You may dance me on your knee. If there’s such a man among you As can recommend himself to me, Be sure he’s brave and strong enough To dance me on his knee. “Then ‘Dick’ Turner, comedian, in bucolic attire, would stand up in a conspicuous place in the reserved seats, gesticulate emphatically and shout: ‘I’ll dance you on my knee, girl.’ Most of the audience would be deceived as to his identity, supposing him to be a rural visitor to the show, and there was great hilarity. ‘Come down here, then,’ the ringmaster would respond, and amid shrieks of laughter ‘Dick’ would make his way to the ring, where the fun continued. Oh, it was easy to entertain in those simple old days!