Mile after mile was passed over in perfect silence, save now and then when the driver would whistle a few bars of some very dismal tune that would fairly make Toby shiver with its mournfulness. Eighteen miles was the distance from Guilford to the town where the next performance of the circus was to be given, and as Toby thought of the ride before them it seemed as if the time would be almost interminable. He curled himself up on one corner of the seat, and tried very hard to go to sleep; but just as his eyes began to grow heavy the wagon would jolt over some rock or sink deep in some rut, till Toby, the breath very nearly shaken out of his body, and his neck almost dislocated, would sit bolt upright, clinging to the seat with both hands, as if he expected each moment to be pitched out into the mud. The driver watched him closely, and each time that he saw him shaken up and awakened so thoroughly he would indulge in one of his silent laughing spells, until Toby would wonder whether he would ever recover from it. Several times had Toby been awakened, and each time he had seen the amusement his sufferings caused, until he finally resolved to put an end to the sport by keeping awake. “What is your name?” he asked of the driver, thinking a conversation would be the best way to rouse himself into wakefulness. “Waal,” said the driver, as he gathered the reins carefully in one hand, and seemed to be debating in his mind how he should answer the question, “I don't know as I know myself, it's been so long since I've heard it.” Toby was wide enough awake now, as this rather singular problem was forced upon his mind. He revolved the matter silently for some moments, and at last he asked, “What do folks call you when they want to speak to you?” “They always call me Old Ben, an' I've got so used to the name that I don't need any other.” Toby wanted very much to ask more questions, but he wisely concluded that it would not be agreeable to his companion. “I'll ask the old man about it,” said Toby to himself, referring to the aged monkey, whom he seemed to feel acquainted with; “he most likely knows, if he'll say anything.” After this the conversation ceased, until Toby again ventured to suggest, “It's a pretty long drive, hain't it?” “You want to wait till you've been in this business a year or two,” said Ben, sagely, “an' then you won't think much of it. Why, I've known the show towns to be thirty miles apart, an' them was the times when we had lively work of it. Riding all night and working all day kind of wears on a fellow.” “Yes, I s'pose so,” said Toby, with a sigh, as he wondered whether he had got to work as hard as that; “but I s'pose you get all you want to eat, don't you?”