At the further end we climbed out onto a platform, and found ourselves in a long, low-vaulted place, some like a immense tunnel. We could jest ketch a glimpse of a light way off at the end, and we sot off for it, I lookin' clost and sharp on every side for my pardner, hopin' and dreadin' to find him there. When all of a sudden, the most terrific yells and shrieks sounded on every side and we see cages of wild animals on both sides of us movin' up and down howlin' and snarlin'. Sez the woman, "They're men dressed up as wild beasts." Sez I, "Have they got to stay here always? Do you spoze it is wrong doin' that has changed 'em into wild animals?" Sez I, "Judgin' from the papers some on 'em wouldn't need much of a turn." But oh, I groaned to myself, "Is Josiah Allen turned into a bear or a cammy leapord! Is he here? I don't believe," sez I to myself, "he has ever been bad enough to be turned into anything worse than a sheep or a rooster." And as I didn't hear any blattin' or crowin', and knowed that if he had seen me he would have tried to communicate with his beloved pardner, I felt hopeful he wuzn't there. We went on and as soon as we got out she asked me if I didn't want to see the Incubator babies, and bein' agreeable to the idee, we went and see 'em. There they lay in glass cases, pretty little creeters lookin' like wee bits of dolls, I felt sad as I looked down on 'em, and thought on the hard journey them tiny feet must set out on from them glass boxes. What rough crosses the little fingers had got to grasp holt of, and onbeknown to me my mind fell onto the follerin' poetry-- "Our crosses are made from different trees, But we all of us have our Calvaries; We may climb the mount from a different side, But we all go up to be crucified." Of course, I knowed there would be some bright posies wreathed round the crosses; but there would be thorns in them. And though the road might be soft and agreeable in spots, yet I knowed well what hard rocks there wuz in the highway of life to stub toes on, even common-sized toes, and it did seem a pity such little mites of feet had got to git stun bruises on 'em. Poor little creeters! I thought, little do you know what sadness and ecstacy, what grief and joy, gloom and glory lays ahead on you. I wuz sorry for 'em, sorry as a dog. And then I didn't like the idee of the little helpless creeters bein' laid out on exhibition, like shirt buttons, or hooks and eyes, to be stared on by saint and sinner, by eyes tender or cruel--and voices lovin' and hateful to comment on. I felt that the place for little babies wuz to home in the bedroom. And I thought nothin' would tempt me, if Josiah wuz a infant babe, to place him on exhibition like Hamburg edgin', or bobbinet lace. The very idee wuz repugnant to me. And I wuz more than willin' when the female asked me if I didn't want to go and see the midgets, and we went.