Once the tents are pitched, no weather can be so unpropitious as to thwart the parade. Rain may fall in copious measurement; mud, perhaps, is deep to the knees. But on with the parade! A much weather-beaten and woe-begone lot of performers, to be sure, and a drenched and blinking lot of drivers, but all forgotten when the sunshine comes again. This display is what circus folk call a “wet day” parade. Women and children are excused, much of the finery is kept in the shelter of the tents, men wear mackintoshes and rubber boots, and protecting canvas hides the gilt and glory of the chariots. It has been advertised as “positive,” however, and the management must keep faith with the public or lose its confidence. Then, too, it serves to show some of the glory and fame of the organization, whets public curiosity and the possible return of clear skies will draw to the grounds the multitude which, without its promise, would have returned home for the day. Business instinct bids there be a parade without fail. Down in the town the press agent is paying the newspaper bills for advertising, distributing tickets, and seeing to it that editors and reporters are put in good humor, and arranging as far as it is in his power that notices before and after the performances are complimentary. Sometimes he accompanies a body of reporters to an advantageous position and they survey the parade together. He buys cigars and refreshment--at the circus’s expense--and impresses his companions as being affable, courteous and a good fellow generally. They part company on fine terms of friendship, and he assures them that he will consider it a personal affront if they don’t all come to the show and bring their friends. Sometimes his hospitality has been so affecting that they will be tempted to write pretty things about him; that the “genial press agent” is with the circus, or, “the circus is fortunate to have so efficient an employee” and, following a description of his virtues. But his prudence begs them to desist, for he knows “the boss” doesn’t approve. The owner takes the view that newspaper space devoted to the circus itself is more to pecuniary advantage than an enumeration of the qualities of the press agent. The keen eye of the general manager follows the parade on its tortuous journey. If there be accident or delay, or any other unforeseen trouble, he is at the scene promptly and takes command. A two-seated carriage follows the line. In it he, the press agent, and the circus detective are conveyed back to the lot. It is a convenience which dispenses with a hot, dusty walk or an uncomfortable journey in packed trolley cars.