Two gentlemen connected with the press here walked up and asked the showman, in a still small voice, if he extended the usual courtesies to editors.  He said he did, and requested them to go in.  While they were in some sly dog told him their names.  When they came out the showman pretended to talk with them, though he didn't say a word.  They were evidently in a hurry. "There, gentleMEN, what do you think them gentlemen say?  They air editors--editors, gentleMEN--Mr. ----, of the Cleveland ----, and Mr. ----, of the Detroit ----, and they say it is the gerratist show they ever seed in their born days!" [Nothing but the tip ends of the editors' coat-tails could be seen when the showman concluded this speech.] A smart-looking chap was doing a brisk business with a gambling contrivance.  Seeing two policemen approach, he rapidly and ingeniously covered the dice up, mounted his table, and shouted: "Ere's the only great show on the grounds!  The highly trained and performing Mud Turtle with nine heads and seventeen tails, captured in a well-fortified hencoop, after a desperate struggle, in the lowlands of the Wabash!" The facetious wretch escaped. A grave, ministerial-looking and elderly man in a white choker had a gift-enterprise concern.  "My friends," he solemnly said, "you will observe that this jewellery is elegant indeed, but I can afford to give it away, as I have a twin brother seven years older than I am, in New York City, who steals it a great deal faster than I can give it away.  No blanks, my friends--all prizes--and only fifty cents a chance.  I don't make anything myself, my friends--all I get goes to aid a sick woman--my aunt in the country, gentlemen--and besides I like to see folks enjoy themselves!" The old scamp said all this with a perfectly grave countenance. The man with the "wonderful calf with five legs and a huming head," and "the philosophical lung-tester," were there.  Then there was the Flying Circus and any number of other ingenious contrivances to relieve young ladies and gentlemen from the rural districts of their spare change. A young man was bitterly bewailing the loss of his watch, which had been cut from his pocket by some thief. "You ain't smart," said a middle-aged individual in a dingy Kossuth hat with a feather in it, and who had a very you-can't-fool-me look. "I've been to the State Fair before, I want yer to understan, and knows my bizniss aboard a propeller.  Here's MY money," he exultingly cried, slapping his pantaloons' pocket. About half an hour after this we saw this smart individual rushing frantically around after a policeman.  Somebody had adroitly relieved him of HIS money.  In his search for a policeman he encountered the young man who wasn't smart. "Haw, haw, haw," violently laughed the latter; "by G--, I thought you was smart--I thought you'd been to the State Fair before."