"It is a peculiar happiness to me as an Adventurer," he continues, "that I sally forth in an age which emulates those heroick times of old, when nothing was pleasing but what was unnatural. Thousands have gaped at a wire-dancer daring to do what no one else would attempt; and thousands still gape at greater extravagances in pantomime entertainments. Every street teems with incredibilities; and if the great mob have their little theatre in the Haymarket, the small vulgar can boast their cheaper diversion in two enormous bears, that jauntily trip it to the light tune of a Caledonian jig. "That the intellectual faculties of brutes may be exerted beyond the narrow limits which we have hitherto assigned to their capacities, I saw a sufficient proof in Mrs. Midnight's dogs and monkies. Man differs less from beasts in general, than these seem to approach man in rationality. But while I applaud their exalted genius, I am in pain for the rest of their kindred, both of the canine and cercopithecan species." The writer then proceeds to comment humorously upon the mania which the exhibition had created for teaching dogs and monkeys to perform the tricks for which the Animal Comedians were famous. "Every boarding-house romp and wanton school-boy," he says, "is employed in perverting the end of the canine creation." The contributor of this paper seems to have had a familiar acquaintance with the shows attending the London fairs, for it was he, whoever he was, who wrote the third number of the 'Adventurer,' in which, giving the details of a scheme for a pantomime, he says that he has "not only ransacked the fairs of Bartholomew and Southwark, but picked up every uncommon animal, every prodigy of nature, and every surprising performer, that has lately appeared within the bills of mortality." He proceeds to enumerate them, and to assign parts in his intended entertainment for "the Modern Colossus," "all the wonderful tall men and women that have been lately exhibited in this town," "the Female Sampson," "the famous negro who swings his arms about in every direction," "the noted ox, with six legs and two bellies," "the beautiful panther mare," "the noted fire-eater, smoking out of red-hot tobacco pipes, champing lighted brimstone, and swallowing his infernal mess of broth," "the most amazing new English _Chien Savant_," "the little woman that weighs no more than twenty-three pounds," "the wonderful little Norfolk man," "the fellow with Stentorian lungs, who can break glasses and shatter window-panes with the loudness of his vociferation," and "the wonderful man who talks in his belly, and can fling his voice into any part of a room." Incidentally he mentions also "the so much applauded stupendous ostrich," "the sorcerer's great gelding," "the wire dancer," and dancing bears.